Saturday, February 18

The Firstborn, Part 1

They say having your first baby is the most exciting time you'll ever experience as a married couple. I have to be honest: a few weeks ago, I would have argued against that notion. Now, though, I think that's pretty darn accurate.
Let me explain.
Amy and I found out she was pregnant in October after several months of trying. We had tried the basal body temp tests and all the other methods of making sure she was ovulating, but we'd always realize a couple weeks later that we were just a couple days off after the pregnancy test read NOT PREGNANT.
It's funny how Amy related to that test. She said she spent 10+ years of her life trying to make sure the test stick said she wasn't pregnant, then all the sudden every time it said that, it was heartbreaking.
One morning in October, the alarm had buzzed and she decided she felt too crappy to go to work. I told her she needed to take a test (you know, just in case) and we had a little argument about it. I honestly didn't think it was possible to get a positive answer from a test that day and neither did she.
I walked into the bathroom after she'd already taken the test, and watched as she tossed it onto the clothes washer. "You can deal with that thing. I'm sick of this, and I'm going back to bed," Amy snitted at me. (Okay, she's not much of a morning person. And, honestly, I was feeling very much the same way.) I finished up my bathroom duties and turned to look at the test strip, which was right-side up on the washer.
As I glanced at it for a mere millisecond, I watched it turn from blank screen to the words PREGNANT. I did my double take, triple take, quadruple get the picture. I was stunned and wanted to make sure this was correct. I grabbed the box and read the instructions quickly just to make sure that's what I was supposed to be reading. Yeah, okay, there's really only one thing the word PREGNANT can mean, but I didn't want to be that idiot who had the false alarm.
"Amy!" I shouted from the bathroom as I made a beeline for the bedroom where she'd returned to go back to sleep. "You're pregnant! You're friggin' pregnant!"
"Shut up," she said tersely, as I reached the door of our room. She was out of bed and standing there waiting for the strip--with a very nervous smile pasted to her grill. "If you're joking, I'm going to be SOOO pissed."
Turning the screen over, she stood in silence and started to cry. We both cried and celebrated and danced and hugged. I called in sick to work to stay home with her and we had a Vrbi party. Amy, Dave and Fetus V took the day off for each other. It was the best day we've ever had as a couple. There were so many things to talk about, so many things to consider.
We were not the same people we were before we read that test. WE WERE PARENTS. Overnight. Instantly.
As excited as we felt that first day, though, we were tuned in to what can happen in a flash: We knew many people who had miscarriages: my sister, my sister-in-law, Amy's mom, friends, other family. That's when you try to calm your excitement a bit to make room for the possibility that something bad can and might happen. So, in trying to un-excite yourself for the first 13 weeks, you play really funny head games with yourselves.
And the next few months were nerve-wracking, mind-numbingly stressful times with all the things that happened in our family, giving the pregnancy a close second place on the ladder of importance.