It has been just over 8 weeks since I found out I was pregnant again.
THAT was a harrowing day.
We had gone to the grocery store, which I usually love. Yes, I know, weird, but Jason and I love to cook together; we walk through the store and I listen as he dreams up new things. Violet rides in the cart with a plastic car attached or runs just ahead of us, her little arms moving back and forth, her little feet never stopping. She gets adoring looks from other shoppers; she rarely, if ever, has a tantrum. Instead, she just exudes excitement over being in the store. We pick out produce and exclaim over ice cream. She gets a treat. (Not ALWAYS candy…last time, she picked out a toothbrush. I know, weird kid. )
But this time, 8 weeks ago, I hated it. I was irate through the store. I felt the walls closing in on me. I didn’t feel well, and I was completely irritated.
We got home and were unloading the groceries, when Violet hit her head on the door. More accurately, stepped in to the door I had just let go to close. She fell to the ground and started sobbing. I snatched her up and started sobbing. Jason came upstairs to find us sitting in the living room, bawling our eyes out.
He calmed Violet down, but no such luck with me. I finally went to the bathroom, and was struck with the inspiration to use the last pregnancy test in the bathroom. (Yes, there are usually pregnancy tests in my bathroom. When you get surprisingly knocked up once, you get pretty obsessive about knowing the status of your uterus.)
I wasn’t even late yet. My period was due to start the next day, so I was pretty skeptical. But low and behold, by the time I was washing my hands, there were two pink lines. I stopped breathing for a minute, then screamed, “JASON!”
I can’t remember his reaction. I only remember starting to hyperventilate and gag. Then I went into the living room, where he has sprayed air freshener, and gagged for real. I made it out to the porch before I threw up. I was bawling and gasping, a real hot mess.
I never expected to react that way. The two previous times I have gotten positive tests, I was immediately filled with joy. This time, I was overtaken with fear.
It had only been 3 months since I lost Max. I didn’t know how I could go through it again. I didn’t trust that God wasn’t going to take this one.
The first two weeks, I was constantly waiting for another miscarriage to happen. I was not fit for human company. Once I got past the 6 week mark, where I had lost Max, I started to breathe a little easier. We started having tentative discussions about names. I started to look apprehensively at baby gear. I still didn’t take it for granted, didn’t really believe that it was going to happen this time. My ill-fitting pants and burgeoning tummy were saying that all was going well, but my bruised heart was telling me not get attached.
According to my pregnancy calendar, yesterday I entered the second trimester. I am really starting to believe there is going to be a new bebe in my arms come February.
You know what? I think that is a stir of joy I am feeling.