A few days before our one-year anniversary I had some bizarre pains in my abdomen and had been feeling a bit under the weather. In trying to describe the pains to my husband I kept saying, "It's unlike anything I've ever felt before." Suddenly I realized, if I'd never felt it before, it might be the indication of something new.
I took a pregnancy test, for the hell of it really, on our 1-Year Anniversary. I had just made myself a fresh martini and was getting ready to go out to dinner with my husband when I figured, Hey, I'm just going to take this pregnancy test to rule that option out.
There was no doubt in my mind that the result would be negative. It had been three weeks since my last period, we weren't "trying" per se, and I was nearly 10 days shy of my next period (my cycles ran long, from 34-37 days). Given where I was in my cycle, even if I had been pregnant there was no chance it would show up on a test yet.
You can imagine my shock, confusion and surprise when I glanced over at the test, amidst mascara applications, to see a big, boldly-printed "PREGNANT" displayed on the digital screen. I sat down on the toilet seat lid and gawked at it, squinting to make sure my eyes weren't playing tricks on me. This was an absolute impossibility. So, I decided not to tell my husband because I didn't want to get his hopes up when I was so sure it was nothing.
But when I walked into our livingroom to find him sitting on the couch, ready to go out, I couldn't mask my emotions.
"What's up?" He asked me.
"Um..." I stuttered, "It's nothing really."
"It's something. What is it?" He's not one to let things go.
"Well, uh, funny story," I managed, "Remember those weird stomach pains I had the other day? Well, I took a pregnancy test, you know - just to rule that out - but um, it was positive..." I trailed off, shocked all over again by the words that were coming out of my mouth.
Stunned, he blurted, "Why are you drinking a martini then?" Clearly he was as thrown as I was by the surreality of what I was saying.
"Well I didn't know when I made the martini!" I answered, sitting down on the couch beside him. We both stared at the test. "I suppose I could take another one?"
"You have more? Yes! Take another one!"
I drank glass after glass of water until I had to pee (only learning later that this would have diluted any HcG I did have in my system) and produced two more negative pregnancy tests. We didn't go to dinner. We Googled. And we put my martini away in the refrigerator, just in case.
The next day I had to get on an international flight, with a whole extra carry-on bag stuffed with questions and insecurities. I couldn't see a doctor for a week until I returned home. Once I did, the blood test confirmed an HcG level of 46. I was, indeed, pregnant. And yet, with a level like that it was unconscionable that a pregnancy test one week prior would have ever shown positive.
Immediately the doctors started speculating about ectopic pregnancies and other similar dysfunctions but all we could do was wait and repeat the test two days later.
50 hours later, my numbers had tripled and I was still a few days shy of a missed period. This sealed the deal. I was pregnant.
No comments:
Post a Comment