A year ago this past Wednesday, I took a test that I thought was going to change my life.
I had been feeling crappy for a week. My stomach bothered me, I was tired, I just felt off.
“Maybe you’re pregnant,” my then-boss half-joked during a Starbucks run.
“Impossible,” I said, but on the inside, I began to think.
It was possible, I realized. It could be.
That night, I went straight to bed after work, as I had most nights that week.
As I lay in bed, wondering when I would feel like myself again, my boss’ words came back to me. “Maybe you’re pregnant.”
I knew I had a pregnancy test buried in our bathroom as a just in case test. I got up and went digging. Under the sink at the back of the cupboard I found it. I looked at the wrapping. It had expired the month before.
I shurgged and decided to take it anyway.
Three minutes later, I turned over the stick. Two lines were staring back at me.
Well one strong line, and a faint line. It was the first time I had ever seen two lines.
Two lines meant pregnancy.
“Um, honey, can you come here for a second?” I call down to my husband, who was playing video games.
“Is everything OK?” he called back.
“Um, I really need you to come here.”
“What’s going on?” he called again from downstairs.
I heard him pause his game. When he came into the bathroom, I showed him the stick.
“That second line is pretty faint,” he said. “Maybe we’re just half pregnant.”
“It doesn’t work that way,” I said.
Unsure about what to do next, I thought taking a pregnancy test that wasn’t expired was important. So with a 30 minutes until our closest Shoppers Drug Mart closed, we went to get a pregnancy test.
I got two, just to be safe.
I took the second one when we got home. Positive.
I called my doctor the next day and left a panicked voice mail.
“Hi, um, I need to see the doctor because, like, I took a pregnancy test. And it was positive. And I don’t know what to do. And I’d like to know if it’s true. So could I get in today or tomorrow? Please?”
I got an appointment for the next day, January 15. As we held hands, my doctor confirmed we were expecting.
A year later, you’d expect we had a three month old child. I’d be complaining about sleepless nights, talking about diapers and sleep schedules. But that wasn’t in the cards for us.
My husband and I miscarried six weeks after finding out we were pregnant, on the eve of our 12th week.
It’s been a long road, and hard to believe it’s all happened in just one year.
I can no longer remember what it felt like to be pregnant. I have some idea, but not the way I once did.
I know I don’t want to lose what we lost ever again.
Because of this, we’re not trying again. Not right now.
But for today, I remember sitting in the bathroom, holding a positive pregnancy test in my hand and being terrified.
While I don’t have the infant I expected, I am so glad to still have my husband by my side. I don’t know that I could have gotten through the last 365+ days without him.