To pass the time, and to try and reconcile these feelings of frustration, perhaps logging my recollection of the last nine months will help.
And so we begin with conception ...
Rob and I began trying to get pregnant shortly after we were married in February 2008. A few short months later, and bingo ... we were pregnant. And just like that, we weren't anymore. Heartbreaking as it was, the miscarriage was not quite the catastrophe, and didn't discourage me one bit. My mother dealt with four miscarriages before I came along, and somehow I drew some courage and hope from that story I've known for as long as I can remember. I was also quite encouraged that we had gotten pregnant to begin with, and a visible embryo in utero. Having been diagnosed with PCOS several years prior, I knew that getting pregnant wasn't necessarily going to be easy ... and combining that with a history of PID, it seemed like the odds might be stacked against us.
We were told not to try for another couple months ... two cycles ... and by the time it was time to try again, I happened to be out of town during ovulation. So another cycle went by, during which Rob lost his job, and with it our health insurance, so again, we waited. Another cycle without insurance, and then we were ready to go. It was November at this point. Our first time back on the saddle, so to speak, it was a no go ... but the second time around, I had a feeling ... actually, nausea and an Eegee's craving. And sure enough, that tipsy evening in early December had done the trick.
But shhh ... Rob and I had a deal from the very beginning that pregnancy would always be "ours" ... at least as much as pregnancy can belong to a couple rather than a mother-to-be. The deal included the condition that whenever I took a home pregnancy test, my job was to pee, and his was to read the results. In May 2008, having just occurred to me that I was late for my period by two days, I peed on the stick and casually told Rob as I turned the corner into the living room that he had a pregnancy test to read in the bathroom.
He called from the bathroom and asked, "What does it mean when there's only one line?" I replied that meant the test was negative. He came out of our bedroom and said, "I'm sorry, honey." To which I quickly and bravely replied, "It's okay, it will happen when it's supposed to happen." Then I saw his face, and that big boyish grin of his ... "I'm sorry because everything is going to change when this baby arrives!" I couldn't believe it, so I promptly went out and bought three more tests ... for the fun of seeing the lines turn colors each time!
Deciding to mentally note everything I could remember from the previous few weeks that I could attribute to pregnancy, we noted that Eegee's cravings and heartburn were prominent deviations from my normal. So in December, driving home from a housesitting gig, when I felt a bit queezy, and then wanted Eegee's, Rob and I became excited at the possibility. With Christmas coming up, and my period due on the 23rd, we decided to hold off on testing until Christmas Eve, when we would both be in Portland, Oregon with my family for the holidays.
I arrived in Portland first, on the 22nd...to a great deal of snow on the ground at that. On the 23rd, my period was conspicuously missing ... and I was telling my parents and sister that I thought I might be preggers. Of course I still had to wait for Rob to show up on the 24th to test...
Then it happened, I woke up on the 24th with the WORST heartburn, and I knew. I texted Rob "No need to bring the test. I KNOW I'm preggers. Remember the heartburn? It's back with a vengeance."
Rob brought the test with him anyway, and as soon as we got back to Dad's from the airport that night I went off to pee on the stick. A few minutes later, Rob came back from the bathroom and I shot him a huge smile saying "I already know." Of course I was right... Everyone else had already crashed for the night, so we waited until morning to break the big news.
And here we are, nine months later ... or am I getting ahead of myself?
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