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Monday, September 19, 2011

Hit me baby, one more time...

So a little over a month ago, I asked myself (and whoever else might read it) "how do I stop trying?" And since that time, I went to see my obstetrician who suggested that I not waste any more time trying to conceive on my own, and he referred me to a fertility specialist. I came home, waited long enough for the referral to be processed, and then called to make my appointment on October 10th with the fertility specialist two hours away in Kansas City. I filled out my eleven page new patient health history packet, submitted my medical record release at the hospital so that all of my OB records could be sent to the specialist, and patiently waited while days passed by ever so slowly. In the meantime, I had gone ahead and done my ovulation predictor tests, did the deed with my husband on all the days I was supposed to, and waited for my period to show up, yet again. Only this month, as my monthly visit from Aunt Flo got closer and closer, I noticed something was...different. I wasn't having cramps. I wasn't bloated. I wasn't anything. For months I had been hoping that all my usual PMS symptoms were actually pregnancy symptoms, but that was never the case. And this month, I wasn't even having my usual PMS.

Yesterday morning I woke up and decided that, even though I was about 99% sure I wasn't pregnant, I would go ahead and take a home pregnancy test, which I have a perpetual stock of these days. My period was a no show as of yet, but hey, at my age it's not exactly clockwork anymore. I dipped my stick, counted to twenty, laid it on the windowsill as usual, and went about my morning ritual of brushing teeth and taking my nine million vitamins. After about a minute I glanced over expecting to see the little hourglass still blinking, counting down the three minutes of torture until the words "not pregnant" appeared. But it wasn't blinking. So I bent down and looked closer and stopped cold. There it was. After months of thinking I would never see it again. One...single...word. Pregnant.

I gasped. Then I bounced up and down. Then I texted my mother, who immediately called me and was already crying. I texted the rest of my immediate family, at which point my phone started to blow up. And then I took a picture of my EPT with my phone and posted it on facebook. I'm not one of these superstitious women who thinks you should keep mum about such things until after the first trimester. I'm pretty sure me blabbing to everyone I know that I'm expecting isn't going to affect whether or not this baby decides to stick with me for nine months. What I am sure of is, I'm happy. And this is the kind of happiness that you want to share with all the people you love. So share it I did.

So this morning I went to the hospital to have my blood test drawn, and it's official, I am pregnant. My due date is May 26th, 2012. Ironically, I'm due the same month that my husband is set to deploy to Afghanistan. Luckily he will be able to stay behind until the baby is born, and for ten days after the birth. It may not sound like much, but considering he missed the birth of our son when he was in Iraq, this really is an improvement.

So how do you stop trying? Well, you don't. Not until your dream comes true. And I hope that everyone out there who is reading this never stops believing in their dream, and never stops trying to make it come true.

2 comments:

Nancy said...

Jennifer, I am wiping tears of joy from my cheeks. Having been in the same position, I know your elation, and like you, I shouted it from the rooftops, too.
Here's wishing you a happy, healthy pregnancy! Congratulations!!

Jennifer said...

Thanks so much, Nancy. :)

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