“No, that doesn’t mean you’re pregnant,” my husband said confidently one afternoon in 2005 as we huddled over the toilet, staring down at two very faint pink lines on a pregnancy test. “Those are the control lines.”
“You sure?” I said. “Let me try again.”
I peed on another stick. And another. And another. Until nine pregnancy tests lined the edge of the sink. Every one displaying two pink “control” lines.
“I think I might be pregnant.”
“Nah,” my husband said. “Here, let me try. Bet you the control lines will show up for me too.” He peed on stick number ten. We waited, staring down at the little piece of plastic like our lives depended on it. Because they did. Three minutes felt like an eternity. Tick tock, tick tock. Finally an image began to appear.
We looked up at each other with a HOLY CRAP look on our faces. My husband looked like he was going to pass out. “Guess they’re not control lines,” he said. I think that was the first and last time I’ve ever heard him admit that he was wrong.
I was pregnant. And I was thrilled and … terrified.
Nothing compares to that surreal feeling of finding out you’ve got a bun in the oven for the first time. It’s a mind-blowing, scary, exhilarating, thrilling moment like no other. It’s so mind blowing, it took nine tries (ten if you count my husband’s POTS) for it to sink in for me.
And that rush of emotions, as intense as it is, still does not prepare you for how baby is going to rock your world. Change everything. Change YOU, forever. When you see those two little pink lines, you become a mom. An identity that trumps all others. From that moment forward, you are MOM. Forever.
That bathroom scene resulted in the birth of my first child. My little baby girl. It took us ten tries and your dad peeing on a stick for us to admit she was on her way, but we’re so glad she's here. She changed my life. She gave it meaning. She made me who I am today. And even though she STILL won’t let me pee in peace or eat a whole meal sitting down, I love her. More than anything. And I always will.