Those two blue lines... One year ago...

This time last year. Literally this day, last year... two lines appeared on the pregnancy test. And the next one. And the next one. And the two that followed that. The line was so faint on the first test I took, I couldn't be sure... I had taken quite a few negative pregnancy tests so that I had no idea what to do with a slightly positive one. So, I called my best friend, naturally. And then I texted her a picture of the test. And then I drove over to her house, as soon as I purchased another box of tests and we sat together on her couch for the recommended three minutes. And then we stared at the positive result.

I was so used to seeing negative results that my mind could literally not wrap itself around what was happening. Which is pretty much true of all major life events for me... my brain just can't keep up... but that is another story. 

Probably, the first person I should have told was Matt. But I really wanted to surprise him with more than a hesitant "I think we are pregnant, probably... I think." I needed a second opinion. So I went where I typically go for second opinions.  

And then I rushed around... making dinner reservations, wrapping a gift (this book) + positive pregnancy test... and doing my best not to explode while I waited for 5pm and for Matt to get off work. 

I took him to our restaurant... the one we go to for special occasions... where we went when we got engaged, our first date as a married couple, our anniversary restaurant... and over appetizers I handed him the gift bag and watched as tears sprung to his eyes when he opened it. (The waiter may or may not have been put off by the pregnancy test laying on the white table cloth. "Yes, I did pee on that. No, we don't have any shame.") I remember that we laughed and cried and prayed for this little punkin. I remember reviewing our favorite names, a list we had made several years ago. (Not that we ended up going with any of those names).


We stopped by Barnes & Noble on our way home and picked up The Pregnant Body Book so we could see and read in detail what was happening with our little peanut.

I remember holding Matt's hand when we saw the little gummy bear of a baby that was growing a few weeks later. He was so squirmy and already full of life. He was beautiful.

And then nausea hit me like a semi. And it just did not end. Matt cleaned more buckets of partially digested chicken noodle soup those next four months than either of us care to remember. (I can not say enough about how this man stood by me, and took care of me during that season- I mean, seriously, people, he cleaned my throw up buckets every. single. time.) Also, he force fed me prenatal vitamins. Basically we hibernated during the first and most of the second trimester. I worked, came home and collapsed on the couch next to a bag of Saltines, a cup of lemon Gatorade and a bucket. I remember feeling like this was the new normal... and if I'm really honest, I lost sight of the joy of the little love bug growing inside me during that season... we were in survival mode. (And by that I mean, I traveled with a bucket in my car for emergencies.)

But we kept seeing pictures of our little guy and catching glimpses of what he was up to inside of me. 


And mercifully the nausea came to an end somewhere in the middle of the second trimester. Matt said he could tell I was feeling better once I started talking to him again. Apparently I didn't have much to say for four months. I was a little preoccupied with popping Zofran and Phenergan and Preggie Pops.

We got used to our new sleeping arrangements, which included a total of four pillows tucked around me. I loved feeling Oliver kick and squirm and hiccup inside me. I remember wondering if I would miss those feelings after he was born.  (As it turns out... they became pretty powerful those last few weeks, and while I loved them, because they meant he was doing well... it was nice to have peace restored after he was born!)



And then, just when it felt like I had been pregnant forever... we were headed to the hospital. And the tiny person that I had been growing was ready to be born. For more on that story, see this blog post. And it was so so worth it. All the throw up buckets and the cans of chicken noodle soup and the pillows... it was all so worth it the second we heard that sweet cry.



Sara Dear1 Comment