Ella Was Right

(I pray that I not cause anyone pain through this post. If you're not at a good place to read this now, I completely understand, and I pray that you feel God's comforting hand today and always.)

My mom claims that intuition runs in the women in her side of the family. My mother-in-law also claims that the women in her family are intuitive. Ella must have gotten a double-dose of intuition, because I still can't explain it, but she indeed knew I was pregnant four days before I tested.

Yes, my two year old was right. I am pregnant.

And I'm still in a state of disbelief.

I really didn't think that it was possible this month. I even picked up Starbucks for myself for the first time in more than three years on Thursday, the day before I tested, in defiance (and in need of a pick-me-up for a busy end-of-the-semester day at work). By Thursday night, I had developed a cold, and desperately wanted to take some cold medicine to get me through the last day of work before my vacation. I tested on Friday morning, just to be safe, convinced that the relief that would come from the cold medicine would be a nice consolation for "wasting" a test.

Oh my God. Oh my God!! As I watched the line vividly pop out at me as the liquid moved across the test, that was all I could think. Oh my God!! Followed quickly by Thank You God!! Thank You, Thank You, Thank You God! There was no second-guessing the results this time. There was no holding it up to the light and tilting it just the right way to double-check and see if there was really anything there. This time, the test line appeared darker and earlier than the control line. Ella was right. There was a baby growing in my tummy. Oh my God!

When I got to work, I called my doctor's office, and was told that they would prescribe me progesterone, but that they wouldn't test betas. A moment of panic ensued, but then I started thinking that perhaps they were right. My betas doubled with all four of my previous pregnancies--including the three losses. Betas really don't tell the doctors--or me--anything. Sure, they give me some initial reassurance, but I know, as so many other women know, that even doubling betas can end in heartbreak.

Aside from telling my very-dear friend and some other women whom I trust and asked to pray for me, I managed to keep my news a surprise from my husband and my family through the weekend and all the way up until the very last gift on Christmas morning. A pregnancy test fits perfectly in a pen box, so I wrapped it up as the last gift for him to open. Never having peed-on-a-stick before, it took him a moment to recognize what he was holding, but the joy on his face was priceless when he figured it out.

For my parents, who arrived on Christmas night, and my brothers who arrived yesterday (and later today), I unwrapped the calendars of Ella and my niece, added a sticky note in August saying "Anticipated Due Date of Baby", and rewrapped them. My mom noticed the announcement right away but kept her excitement subdued while my dad skipped over August, citing that we don't have any family birthdays that month. My husband had to coach him a bit to help him find the neon-green post-it. My sister-in-law found it right away yesterday...we'll see if my youngest and most oblivious brother picks up on it later today.

I'm sorry that I waited so long to share my news here. I know that so many women are hoping and praying and wishing for me, and I am so appreciative. Thank you for understanding that I wanted this chance to have a little fun surprise for once.

I know that many women wait for a heartbeat or some other confirmation before telling friends and family, but what do I have to lose? They know my history and love me just the same. I'm no longer afraid of the stigma associated with loss. I need all the love and support, prayers and understanding that I can get.

I didn't do a true due-date calculator. With my track record of losses, I don't want to know an exact date. It was right around this time last year that my very-dear friend found out she was pregnant with my godson, so I'll use his birthday, August 22nd, as an estimated due date. My very-dear friend, by the way, claims that she knew that I was pregnant when I was with her in Florida (days after I must have ovulated) and is also convinced I'm having a boy. Perhaps intuition runs in her family too.

My first appointment is January 2nd. I believe I'll be six weeks. I don't believe they'll be able to see anything quite that early. A tiny part of me hopes that my really-light cycle in November wasn't actually a cycle at all and that they'll discover I'm actually ten weeks pregnant...but I won't hold my breath.

I am hopeful, and I have a peace that passes understanding that I'll be okay, no matter what happens. I've been feeling rather crappy lately. I don't know if this is pregnancy, psychosomatic, or just nerves. I don't remember feeling like this with Ella. And I still have the cold.

I'm blessed to have the chance to try this all over again. I'm blessed that God heard my prayer and created life within me. I'm blessed that He can create miracles when I think things are impossible.