A year ago today, it was a Saturday morning and I was up at 6 a.m. peeing on sticks in the bathroom while my husband slept soundly on the other side of the door. The day before, I’d taken two pregnancy tests. The first one was positive–just ever so faintly–and the second one I couldn’t see squat. After trying for almost a year to get pregnant, I was certain the first positive test was a fluke. But that Saturday morning, I took two more tests for a grand total of four little lines.
I packed the dog into the car at 6:50 a.m. and we drove to the nearest store that opened at 7. I was the first customer inside and I left with the most expensive early-response pregnancy test I could find. By 7:15 I had confirmed that first test was no fluke. I was pregnant!
Every moment since then has been a whirlwind. Just before I was six weeks along I was driving to my grandma’s funeral in Montana when a nurse called to tell me I was going to miscarry. As I drove at 80 miles per hour, the nurse explained what the miscarriage was going to look and feel like. It was Father’s Day weekend and in my bag was a card for my father in which I revealed he was going to be a grandpa–something he’d always wanted, especially after he became terminally ill and didn’t know how much longer he’d have. Instead of giving him the card, I tearfully told my parents about the pregnancy by telling them it wasn’t going to last.
Yet here we are, a year later, and that miscarriage never happened. Although I often worried that it would eventually happen, my pregnancy was easy and uneventful. Now I have the sweetest, happiest, most vocal little baby I’ve ever met. (Noooo, I’m not biased…) That first night after learning I’d finally gotten pregnant, all I could think was, “Holy shit, my life will NEVER be the same again.” It definitely hasn’t been. But I can’t even remember what my life was like without E. She’s been my entire world for the past year, and I know she will continue to be for every year for the rest of my life.