(I've managed to hold this in for 4 weeks......that's pretty good for me!!!!)
In September, 3 years after beginning this trying journey to expand our family, and 1 year after unexpectedly losing our first and only pregnancy, we pulled out all the big guns short from consulting a fertility specialist (metformin, femara, preseed, prayer, crossing our fingers and toes), did lots of homework, and waited. Then waited some more.
On the first Friday morning of October, I woke up to a message from my OB's nurse calling to check on me and ask if I needed my prescription refilled or wanted the number to call for a specialist. I threw my clothes on as fast as possible and left the house without looking those adorably sweet dogs begging me for a walk in their precious little brown eyes, drove straight to Wal-Mart (there was no time for grooming or teeth brushing....anyway, it was just Wal-Mart, which is completely acceptable), bought an EPT test, ducked directly into a stall and shamelessly peed on a stick (hello, I'd been holding it since I woke up, there was no time to drive back home) with realistic expectations to wait 3 minutes and see a negative sign. Something else was in store for me though. Sooner than I could push the start button on my timer, the results were undeniable.
When you hope and wish and pray for something for so long, once it finally happens that effort in turn becomes substituted with finding a balance between being blissfully ecstatic and crippled with fear that your newly acquired gift may be taken away. But God says, "Fear not." So there I was, caught between celebration, doubt, and a public toilet seat, with a decision needing to be made. How will I make of this? Do I let joy take over and make it a big deal, or do I let fear rule and mute it? (After all, it was very early. Four weeks and six days to be exact.)
I decided to rejoice. If we put up a wall to protect ourselves from everything that can hurt us, how will anything good ever get in?
I called Patrick on my way home, to let him know the series of surprises he'd been receiving from me lately were going to be continued when he got home from work. Then I waited.
"This is so pretty. Do I deserve this?" He said as he picked up his neatly wrapped hair blow-dryer box decorated with confetti tissue paper and string, and shook the unusually light package.
"Totes." I smiled, and stood there watching for his initial reaction like a hawk.
He pulled out the cotton ball hung from pink and blue ribbon and inquisitively shook it a little, "What's this?" Then he reached for the envelope with a card that he'd seen before, waiting inside.
He started reading, saying a random word aloud every sentence or so, allowing me to follow his progress as I waited from him to reach the last line.
And then we hugged. A lot.
"I'm scared," he said.
"Me too."
"But oh so happy," we both decided.
So here we are, beyond happy, terrified, grateful, anxious, and overjoyed.
This means we got an "A" on our homework, right?
In September, 3 years after beginning this trying journey to expand our family, and 1 year after unexpectedly losing our first and only pregnancy, we pulled out all the big guns short from consulting a fertility specialist (metformin, femara, preseed, prayer, crossing our fingers and toes), did lots of homework, and waited. Then waited some more.
On the first Friday morning of October, I woke up to a message from my OB's nurse calling to check on me and ask if I needed my prescription refilled or wanted the number to call for a specialist. I threw my clothes on as fast as possible and left the house without looking those adorably sweet dogs begging me for a walk in their precious little brown eyes, drove straight to Wal-Mart (there was no time for grooming or teeth brushing....anyway, it was just Wal-Mart, which is completely acceptable), bought an EPT test, ducked directly into a stall and shamelessly peed on a stick (hello, I'd been holding it since I woke up, there was no time to drive back home) with realistic expectations to wait 3 minutes and see a negative sign. Something else was in store for me though. Sooner than I could push the start button on my timer, the results were undeniable.
When you hope and wish and pray for something for so long, once it finally happens that effort in turn becomes substituted with finding a balance between being blissfully ecstatic and crippled with fear that your newly acquired gift may be taken away. But God says, "Fear not." So there I was, caught between celebration, doubt, and a public toilet seat, with a decision needing to be made. How will I make of this? Do I let joy take over and make it a big deal, or do I let fear rule and mute it? (After all, it was very early. Four weeks and six days to be exact.)
I decided to rejoice. If we put up a wall to protect ourselves from everything that can hurt us, how will anything good ever get in?
"This is so pretty. Do I deserve this?" He said as he picked up his neatly wrapped hair blow-dryer box decorated with confetti tissue paper and string, and shook the unusually light package.
"Totes." I smiled, and stood there watching for his initial reaction like a hawk.
He pulled out the cotton ball hung from pink and blue ribbon and inquisitively shook it a little, "What's this?" Then he reached for the envelope with a card that he'd seen before, waiting inside.
"I'm scared," he said.
"Me too."
"But oh so happy," we both decided.
This means we got an "A" on our homework, right?
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