Blog Dare: The day I found out I was pregnant
“You really did it this time,” I stormed into the bedroom at 5:30 in the morning.
Kyle awoke with a start. “What? What'd I do?”
I couldn't stifle the giggles that erupted as I tried to maintain a serious disposition.
“I'm pregnant!” I jumped up and down, crying and laughing and blubbering. He popped out of bed excitedly, and I grabbed the EPT from the bathroom for proof. “See!”
The date that stands out in my mind (though I could definitely be wrong, “mommy-brain,” you know) is September 9, 2008... a few days after my 28th birthday and the first day of school. A few days prior, I had taken a pregnancy test, the results of which were negative, but I knew something was up. I felt... different.
Later that afternoon when I returned home from work, I called the obstetrician's office to set up an appointment. “I have to come in to see the doctor. I'm... pregnant!”
The secretary did not seem as excited. “Okay. We typically don't see pregnant patients for about ten weeks. How's November for you?”
I stared, dumbfounded, at the receiver. November? “That's the earliest she can see me?” I inquired.
The remainder of the conversation was a complete blur, if a little disappointing. For some reason I figured that everyone would be as excited as my husband and I, but that was not the case.
Thankfully, this incident seemed pretty isolated; as more and more people found out, I got plenty of hugs, kisses, and pats on the belly (which is very strange early on- “Umm, that's just my regular stomach, please stop touching me...”)
Though the exact date may not be as clear, the events of that day are etched into my memory, much like the events that have transpired since my little Avery has been with us!