When it turns out you're not done after all

I want you all to know what a pleasure it has been oversharing with you on this blog. It really makes me happy (and sometimes uncomfortable too) and I hope it sometimes makes you smile (and doesn't make you too uncomfortable). So,there was a draft that I'd been working on for a few days, planning on sharing in a few weeks. Last night I was tired but not quite tired enough to sleep, and thought it would be a good time to add to it.  I would get it just right and then share it after some other things had happened, according to my plan. But my fat fingers and the finicky Blogger photo uploader disagreed with that plan, and in a split second I published something that I was nowhere near ready to share. I deleted it in a panic, but I knew that it was too late for anyone who gets reads me via email subscription or reader. So it all went straight to the inboxes of my handful of dear loyal readers -- some of them close family whom we had not yet told but planned to very soon. The horror! I called Tim, I apologized, I lamented what an idiot I am at least a dozen times, and said I never wanted to blog again. He calmly said that this is not that big of a deal, it's really OK, I'm not an idiot, and I'm going to want to blog again. In fact he encouraged me to fix the post and publish it again, sooner rather than later. At that moment I thought I'd rather stick a fork in my eye, but I knew he was right. I knew I'd be back here today. "As reliable as night following day", haha. 

I posted this a couple months ago, and it proved to be very cathartic for me. I hit publish and then I was like, 'phew.' I felt relieved after addressing the thing that weighed most heavily on my mind, and free to think and write about other things. And free to get rid of most of my baby stuff. Every time I sold or donated something, I just smiled and wished the new owner well. I liked the thought of all my baby gear having new life.

But then I just continued to wait and hope. I didn't know how to stop. It was pretty frustrating to continue being disappointed every few weeks. But then that would fade and I would again remember how great my life is and how much I like sleep.

I could not quit the thermometer and chart either. It's an ingrained habit by now. The pattern of low temps followed by high temps, then a low temp, then a new cycle. Again and again and again, as reliable as night following day. I began to think that a diagnosis of infertility would be very helpful, and that maybe it was time to see a doctor. If I was told that I could not have babies anymore, I could stop hoping and praying for what was never going to happen.

Then, on a morning that I was supposed to have a decline in temperature and get my period, I got a really high temperature and no period. It was the 13th day of my luteal phase. I thought, 'Hmm. Well, I had a sore throat last night. It could be a low-grade fever. But the sore throat is gone and I feel fine now.' I tried not to read too much into it even though it was significantly higher than my normal luteal phase temperatures, and this was supposed to be the end of the cycle.

The next morning, April 1, my temp was the same, and I became hopeful. Then I tried not to be hopeful. But I couldn't help it, I was. I prayed. Then I tried not to think about it. Then I thought about it some more. I tried telling myself I could wait one more morning and then buy a test. But as I was on my way to yoga I decided I did not have that kind of patience.  At yoga I tried to still my mind and be calm and centered, and it worked. Mostly. After we left the Y I drove straight to Bi-Lo and bought a test. I made sure it was the kind that you could use 5 days before your period because I wasn't taking the chance that it wasn't sensitive enough to use with midday pee.

When I saw that it was positive, words can not describe the elation I felt. I thanked God more times than I could count and then kind of floated around the house in a haze. I made lunch for Timmy and me and put him down for his nap, but my mind was elsewhere. I looked at that test again and again. There's nothing like the feeling of looking at two lines on a pregnancy test. Nothing in the world. In that instant your life is changed.

I was so impatient to tell Tim, but he was away and wouldn't be back for two days. Two days! And I knew because he'd mentioned it before, if this happened he wanted to be told in a special way. He didn't just want me to be like, "So, I'm pregnant." I think even if he hadn't told me that, I would still want to tell him in a special way since this is something we've both been wanting for so long. So I began brainstorming fun ways to surprise him with the news when he got home.Over the next two days as I just went about life doing the things I always do, I would suddenly remember, 'I'm pregnant, and Tim doesn't know!' I was so impatient.

At last he got home and dilly-dallied before taking his bags back to our room, as I got more and more antsy. I followed him back there as he told me about this and that. Then he stopped when he saw this on his nightstand:

Then he walked over to me and wrapped me in a big, long hug. Then he asked me some questions and I told him all about the past few days. Then he thanked me for putting the test in a plastic bag.:) It was very considerate of me, wasn't it?  

And that's that.