Two Pink Lines

We spent 6 months of not trying not to get pregnant (David won't let me say that we were "trying"-- too much pressure associated with that word, I guess.)  On the seventh, I was feeling noticeably weird. Weirder than normal even though I'm certain I'm one of those women who overanalyzes every "symptom" as a possible pregnancy symptom. I'm a little crazy that way. I'll admit it.

After spending Saturday running around with Rebecca, I decided to stop at the dollar store for a few pregnancy tests. Yes, I was relying on $1 pregnancy tests but they're said to be some of the better tests on the market. They just don't have all the flare of a digital read out. I'm pretty sure I'm smart enough to figure out an old school pregnancy test. It was difficult not to test that night but I knew first thing in the morning would give me the best result. I had been charting my temperature so when I woke up on Sunday morning and my temperature was still up, I decided to go ahead with the test.

I wasn't expecting anything. I knew I was testing way early. Even if I was pregnant, I didn't expect it to show this early. I hadn't told David that I bought the tests so I left them in my car overnight. After letting Laika out and giving her some breakfast, I quietly snuck into the garage, grabbed a test and headed to the bathroom. Once the test was prepared (i.e. peed on) and was doing its thing, I realized that I didn't have a timer.

So, of course, I just started counting. Counting to 180.  I kept thinking,
"How long is a second?"
"Am I counting too fast?"
"Should I be saying Mississippi between each number?"

When I got to 90, I started to see something showing up near the T (T for Test, C for Control). "Nah," I thought, "It's early. I'm groggy. I haven't had my coffee yet. The light in here is terrible.  I'm just seeing what I want to see." Counting...counting... "Wow. That second pink line is definitely there. It's light, but it's there. Hm. Now what?"

I hadn't really expected it to go down like that. I had envisioned peeing on a stick, leaving the bathroom and sitting on the couch with David anticipating the result until we heard the beep of the timer on my iPhone. I envisioned going into the bathroom to examine the test and returning to the living room with a smile of excitement and sheer terror. Well, I got sheer terror part right.

David was still in bed. I crawled back into bed to tell him the news but decided that telling him while he was half asleep was not the best idea. I surfed the Internet, watched TV and daydreamed for THREE HOURS before he finally got out of bed. When he finally got up and walked into the kitchen, I told him, "There's coffee...and I'm pregnant." His response? "Whoa." Thanks, Keanu.