This morning I couldn’t believe it still.. so I took the 3rd (and last) test in the box. Yup. Still said pregnant.
Time to begin operation “Tell Oliver”. I’d been planning this for years.
The fortune inside the cookie says “You’re a father”
What I love about this: He looks like I’ve just played the worst prank ever … I think this really shows how much we’d been waiting and wanting but still struggling with the “what if it never happens….” question.
I hadn’t been feeling well all week. After a long weekend at Maker Faire, I figured I’d just overdone myself and that a seizure was on the way. But as the week went on the exhaustion just wouldn’t subside, no seizure came, and I was weirdly adversive to some of my favorite foods.
…. wait a minute.
I thought about it for a few days before finally buying that new box of pregnancy tests. Oliver and I were set to go out of town for the long weekend to celebrate our 6 year anniversary. And those two dreadful words (“not pregnant”) just always made me so emotional. So here was my thought process: take the test Thursday, have it say “not pregnant”, cry, get over it, have a nice weekend with the hubby.
So I did it… and waited. And waited some more. Then a little longer. (ever notice how those 2 minutes feel like HOURS?!?!)
… it said pregnant.
I stared in disbelief for what must have been a minute. Then I began to shake, cry and had to hold myself up on the bathroom counter for fear of falling.
I took another test that evening… because I didn’t believe it. But it said the same thing. I would wait till morning to tell Oliver.