The miracle

After our Mothers’ Day talk, Jim and I again took some time away from the subject of infertility.  We had a tentative plan, but weren’t in a position to move forward – emotionally or financially.  We just went about our lives and put the topic on the back burner temporarily.

A couple weeks after Mothers’ Day, we had dinner with some friends.  A lot of wine was shared.  Too much wine, actually.  It was a Tuesday night.  A school night.  The next day, I felt so sick.  I actually took the day off of work so I could “sleep it off.”  Thursday, I felt a little better and returned to work, but was no where near well.  Friday came and went, and I still felt sick.  I thought, “This can’t be a hangover.  I must have the flu.”  Jim had a different idea. 

Jim asked, “Weren’t you supposed to get your period by now?”  I told him I probably should have, but since we’d stopped treatments I really hadn’t been keeping track (there didn’t seem to be a need to).  He suggested we take a pregnancy test.  I responded with a flurry of emotions – frustration, anger, surprise, hope.  I thought, “Did you not listen when the doctor told us I had less than %5 chance of getting pregnant even with IVF?”  I thought it was a very cruel suggestion.  Then again, what if?  You can’t help but feel “What if?”  So… off to Target I went to buy some pregnancy tests.  

Since the box says to take the test first thing in the morning, I waited until Saturday morning to do the test.  This was the Saturday of Memorial Day weekend.  This is not the most opportune day to take a pregnancy test.  The reason is simple – no doctors available until Tuesday!  The box said to wait 3-5 minutes to read the test.  My results came up in about 30 seconds.  I couldn’t believe my eyes.  Was I reading it right?  Had I mixed up what constituted a positive result with a negative result?  I screamed to Jim (literally screamed), “Jim! Jim!!  Does this say what I think it does?”  YES!  It was an actual positive test result!  I figured it had to be a false positive.  I took all the tests in the box, went back to Target to get more, and over the next 2 days I took those tests too.  They all had the same result: POSITIVE!  As excited as I was, I still had a hard time believing it was true.  I made an appointment to see the doctor as soon as I could… Tuesday.  I spent Saturday, Sunday and Monday going crazy with hope and fear.  

I went in to see the doctor on Tuesday, May 28, to confirm the pregnancy.  This was 2 months to the day from when Dr. C told us we had such a small chance for conception.  When I was called into the office, they did a blood test which revealed a positive result.  I was in shock.  I was also informed that I spent way too much money on pregnancy tests because there is no such thing as a false positive.  False negative, yes, but never a false positive.  Oops!  Oh well.  That’s what happens when you test on a holiday weekend.  When I saw Dr. C I said, “I thought you said there was less than 5% chance of me getting pregnant.”  He responded, “I didn’t say there was no chance.”  The nurse said, “She just wanted to prove you wrong, doctor.”  I suppose she was right.   

At that point, I had an ultrasound to confirm the pregnancy was not tubal.  It wasn’t.  I started crying.  I cried even harder when I could see the “heart” beating.  I was 5.5 weeks along, the baby looked like a tiny, pulsating grain of rice with a balloon around it, and it was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.  

The irony of all of this is that when Jim and I went for our walk and talk on Mothers’ Day to make decisions about our journey, I was already pregnant.  I had no idea, of course.  I never would have guessed.  As we were thinking about options, we already had a little one on the way.  I was, and still am, completely amazed.  After all the prayers we said, all the hopes we held onto, all the disappointments we endured, we had been blessed with a pregnancy… our own, incredible miracle.   



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