I am on Day 30. Day 30! My cycle is not regular. It’s been 25 days. Most often, 27 days. And it’s been 29 days. But never 30.
I get home from work, sit on the couch, look at Bal, and blurt “I’m on day 30.”
His face does not register at first. Then I see he sees what I am saying. “I thought you said you weren’t?”
That is exactly what I had said a few days ago. I was certain I was not pregnant. 100% sure. I had, after all, had some spotting. I had sore breasts. I was craving chocolate. Classic signs of the impending menstruation I had grown to loathe.
But here I was. On day 30.
Bal looks hopeful. Then he looks like he is hiding the hopefullness. We’ve been disappointed before.
“I’m going to buy a test.” he states unsure if this is the right thing to do or not. “But I don’t think you are.”
I tell him probably not, but am thinking that this is it. Day 30!
When he’s at the pharmacy, I start to freak out. What if I am? I had beer a couple of days ago! 2 glasses of Hobgoblin beer. I spray painted a board and toxic chemicals entered me. I gave up on taking folic acid while trying. I drank coffee daily.
I’m already a bad mother! But I was so certain that I wasn’t pregnant. There was no way…
When Bal returns, he hands me the box and says “Time to pee. But I don’t think you are.”
Sitting on the couch, he looks at me, “You said you weren’t! I don’t think you are.”
It’s time to take the test.
I pee. I wait. There is a pink line. A faint, pink line. I show Bal.
“I’m pregnant…” and show him the test.
“I don’t think you are.” He is stunned. Then he looks at the test again and hope returns to his face. “It’s positive? Are you sure?”
“Do you see the pink line?” I can’t quite believe it either.
“Yes, but it’s faint. What did it look like before?”
“It was all white. No pink. No traces of faint pink even.”
“But it’s faint. I don’t think you are. What did it look like before?”
“White. All white! Now there’s a pink line. Look at the box. It says even a faint line is positive. It says so right on the box!”
“What if you get your period tomorrow? I don’t think you are.”
I laugh. We hug. We try to absorb the enormity of this. It’s remarkable how surprised we can be when we were trying so hard. But we are surprised. Gobsmacked even.
We are having a baby.