I’m 33 years old and until earlier this year had never taken a pregnancy test – let’s just say these last few months have been filled with many firsts.
We’d been trying/hoping for a baby for a couple of months but as my periods were often irregular I made a vow to myself to only test if I was over a week late in order to save too many instances of raised and dashed hopes.
I broke my own rule in April though as I was a few days late, about to head away on a boozy girls’ weekend and none of my usual crippling periods pains had cropped up yet. I had a pregnancy test in the cupboard that had come free with an ovulation kit (incidentally I tried these for 2 months in a row and never got a positive result, thus proving I was completely inept at predicting my cycle) and quickly read the instructions before peeing on the stick.
I waited the allotted time, saw nothing and went to throw it in the bin when a shadow of a faint second line caught my attention. Thinking that was the outline of a line that would show if the test was positive I dismissed it and headed off on my trip that was a litany of things one shouldn’t do when expecting.
That weekend consisted of booze, coffee, runny eggs, feta cheese and a whole morning of hot tubs. (I’m so sorry baby.)
During that time I started cramping so popped some pills (I really am sorry baby) and told myself that the monthly flow was on her way.
Two days later Justin joined me for our road trip to the Silo Art Trail but there was still no sign of Mrs P. We checked into a gorgeous spa suite in Hepburn Springs that evening and that was when I finally started to click that things were a little amiss. Basically, I spent an hour waiting for the spa tub to fill up – we’d poured champagne, lit the fire and Bachelor in Paradise was about to start on the TV. I got into said tub and lasted 2 minutes.
Is it possible for a baby in utero to spit the dummy?
I was sweating and faint and feeling sick and demanded Justin move the Moet away from me like it was the most repellent thing I’d ever seen. I lifted myself onto the side of the tub and then needed Justin’s help to get to the sofa where I lay like a starfish for the rest of the evening.
“I think we should get a pregnancy test in the morning,” I told him.
We stopped at the chemist that morning. Justin went in and tells me the sales clerk wished us the best of luck. Bless.
I now know that mornings are better for doing pregnancy tests but at the time we had 8 hours of driving ahead of us and only poorly lit bush loos along the way so I decided to wait until we got to the motel that evening – almost not daring myself to hope this could be happening. We arrived around 6pm to the most unglamorous motel you could imagine and I proceeded to pee on the stick. Again.
I waited the allotted time with my stomach in my throat and again a very faint second line started to appear, slightly stronger than the first test I did but this time unmistakably there. I came out the bathroom and shoved the paper instructions and peed-on stick under Justin’s nose and asked, ‘What do you think this means?’. He studied the leaflet and grinned. ‘It’s positive, isn’t it?’
We need to do another test, says me, and makes him google late night chemists immediately. We power walk down there, me sipping water so I can do a second pee, and ask for a digital test so there can be no uncertainty.
Back at the motel I pee on a stick for a third time and then nearly have a hernia as the stop-clock goes around and around and around preparing the result. I walk away and leave Justin to monitor it as I pace the tiny room instead. “It has a result,” he says, and he’s smiling so wide I know which way it went.
Still I cannot allow myself to think this is actually happening and I insist we need a confirmation from a doctor before we consider ourselves pregnant. (Can you tell this is our first?) I book an appointment for when we get back from our trip and walk in telling the doctor I want him to confirm I’m pregnant. He explains the tests are 99% accurate but concedes to do urine and blood tests ASAP as I’m clearly a nut-job. He sends me to a local hospital for a speedy turnaround as I’m leaving for Europe that weekend. I see him at 5pm on Friday and hear the words ‘you’re definitely pregnant’.
And if you think that’s when it started to sink in, you don’t know the depth of my anxiety!
How many pregnancy tests did you do before believing it wasn’t an anomaly? Is it just me?!