I have an announcement to make.
At the end of July, Mr. and I found out that we were expanding our family.
I took not one, not two, but three pregnancy tests. They were all positive.
Mr. had no idea I had even bought tests, let alone taken them.
Middle Little walked into the bathroom and I decided to have some fun.
“Here, Buddy,” I said, handing him the positive test, “Go give this to Daddy!”
He took the stick from me and looked confused. “Go ahead…” I urged. He ran out of the bathroom and to the couch where Mr. was sitting. I waited behind to give it a minute to register.
“Where did you get this?!?!” He exclaimed, “Give that to me!” Then to me, “Ummmm… do you know our son is carrying around a pregnancy test?!”
I just waited quietly.
“Here, Buddy. Give that to Daddy,” Mr. said. Middle Little handed it over. “Thanks.”
There was a moment of silence, followed by, “Oh my gosh! Are you serious!?! That’s great!” The smile on Mr.’s face said it all. He was thrilled. And so was I.
We had a brief discussion about who to tell, and when. We decided to bask in the joy of our good news alone for a while, and after a few weeks just tell people as it came up.
The next days went on uneventfully.
Thursday, August 1, 2013 I woke up feeling great. I even made a mental note about how I wasn’t nauseous (which I had been starting to feel in the mornings for about a week and a half). I went on with my day as usual, but around dinner time was feeling a bit crampy. Thinking I hadn’t had enough to drink, I gulped down some water.
As the evening progressed, the cramping got worse. I told Mr. that I needed to lay down for a while. I went to bed around 8 and at about 9 I got up to go to the bathroom. I sat down, and there it was: a bright red spot of blood.
I looked down and looked at the blood. As it registered what was happening, I became angry. Angry at myself for not taking better care of my body. Angry at Mr. for not coming and making sure I was okay (he didn’t even know I was awake, let alone what was transpiring). Angry at my kids for being naughty and causing stress. Angry at my baby for not hanging on. I was angry.
So. Very. Angry.
Just as suddenly as this baby, and the joy that came with it, appeared, she was leaving.
…to be continued…