The morning I found out that I was pregnant, I woke up like I had for the past two days. Sleepy, in a dark basement, far earlier than my usual waking hour. We had just moved into my father-in-laws place as our cute, trendy loft’s lease had expired and our never-ending wait to hear back on our offer on our short sale dream home was still creeping by. In December, my husband and I had been “not-trying” for several months with no luck. I had told him as soon as we were in a house, we would really, really start trying. But December was full of promises and the house seemed like it could happen at any moment. What was one month of really trying going to really do?
Four days late for my period, which had been abnormally regular for almost a year now, I felt like I should probably just check. My standard half glass of wine with dinner had creeped into my self consciousness the night before. I probably should at least check.
I took a test and watched the liquid fill up the display. Instantly. Two lines. There was no ifs, ands, or buts. There were two lines. I took the test into the bedroom and demanded to my sleeping husband to put his glasses on and take my pee stick. He looked at me confusion and then looked back on the test.
“Are you sure?” he asked.
“Those things are typically only wrong when they say no. It can’t really say there’s a hormone that isn’t there,” I replied.
I laid back into bed. I’m going to get fat. And I still have a half of a bottle of wine upstairs. Do I just pour it out so my father-in-law thinks it is just gone? Ugh. We don’t have a house — or a chalkboard to document this on — what was that time lapse belly app? Does this mean I cannot go to Spain with work? Oh no! That Labor Day trip to the lake and the beach?! It’s going to be a hot, hot summer. But my skin does awesome in the summer… What if we don’t have a house? Or decide on a church yet? I will have a homeless, churchless baby… A baby — well, that’s cool.
I think it was about fifteen minutes later when I finally managed to get into the shower for work. My husband came into the bathroom and his hands on my belly and prayed. He confessed that he had actually done the same thing the morning before, praying for a baby. And he did the same thing as I was doing laundry later that night — as he confessed that it was probably the coolest thing ever and the most joy that he had ever felt, but he wasn’t getting his hopes up until the doctor confirmed. He didn’t really believe yet.
I spent most of two day at work studying up on doctors. Of course, I did not have a doctor. I was still driving two hours to my hometown, as I had for almost 10 years, for my yearly check up. For everything else, I was the Walgreens HealthCare Clinic girl. It was convenient, easy, and open way easier hours. From the flu to a sinus infection, Walgreens took care of me. Probably not for this.
The first gentlemen listed on my health insurance’s website was located about a football field away from our potential house. Good.
I checked him out on HealthGrades.com. 46 reviews. 5 stars. He will not be able to get me in, I’m sure. So I called, after work, which was probably after hours.
“We do our first appointments somewhere in between 8 – 10 weeks. We will see you at the most convenient time on the day in February. You can stop by at any time to pick up your What to Expect when You’re Expecting book and your vitamins.” Alright, this is it!
A baby — well, that’s really cool. I’m going to be a mom.
About the Author
In addition to being a momma, Heather Bahorich writes and manages the Bahorich Abode blog. Currently pregnant with their third child, she lives in Illinois with her husband and 20 month old son, Oliver. Her first double red line experience was with their angel baby, Ellie, and since then, she has learn a lot about being a mom. She works from a home office in the learning and development world and primarily blogs about community, goal setting, and all things mommy. She loves RC Cola, Disney World, and the David Crowder band.