Starting this blog has sent me on a trip down pregnancy memory lane, and there is no better story to start with than the day I found out I was baking a baby. Do you remember that moment?
It’s very likely you pee’d on a stick and the plus sign appeared. What next? Who did you tell first?
You probably found whoever was in the house, which probably included the person who helped make it happen- presumably some sort of spouse or life-partner, etc. If your husband was anything like mine, they scrutinized the little image, looking for signs of weakness. Brandon was really excited about the idea of having a baby, and as such, he was highly dubious of false positives.
The day before I pee’d on my stick, I had what I thought were boring old period cramps. Brandon was rather disappointed when I started to complain of them. Yet strangely my cramps that day came without a period. And then they left. What I would learn later is that I was one of the lucky pregnant women who actually felt implantation! Yes, my baby girl made absolutely sure I was crystal clear that she was taking up residence in my uterus. And as I continue to learn about her personality, (her sassy self is now 13 months old!) I am not surprised by that at all.
Anyway, my stick, having been pee’d upon in the earliest of possible stages of pregnancy, had just a very faint plus sign. I was immediately convinced it was a go– one can’t really be “kind of ” pregnant. But Mr. Skeptical insisted that the cramps were a sure sign of failure and that we needed to work harder and try again! (He’s so valiant.)
After some google research I decided to wait until the next morning and start with a fresh stick; the developing pregnancy hormones needed some time to marinate. As I expected, a bold plus sign appeared after doing so. Brandon was surprised and delighted. We cried, hugged, and then of course got ready for work, buzzing with our new little secret. I couldn’t bring myself to toss the proof in the trash just yet, so I left it by bathroom sink without a second thought.
Fast-forward to that evening after work. We entered our home which was sparkling following a visit from our monthly cleaning guy, Fredo. Everything was spic and span and the apartment smelled wonderfully sterile from fresh bleach. As I wandered into the bathroom to bask in the aura of a toothpaste-free mirror, I suddenly remembered the pregnancy test I had left so casually on the counter. The risks of a working mom who doesn’t clean her own house were coming to fruition. I’m not entirely sure how to describe the feeling when you discover your pregnancy test has been handled-
Forget that this little stick contained our best life news to date– I urinated on that thing.
That Fredo touched my pregnancy test was baffling; I was briefly torn between feeling totally grossed out or feeling impressed enough to bump up his Christmas tip. But I could not fathom what he had done with it–the trash can was empty, and it would be rather bold to throw it away, right? I looked around for a bit and finally thought to check under the sink.
And yes, there it was, very neatly and discreetly tucked away on the second shelf, the plus-sign shining boldly as ever. It seemed our little secret was safe, just between Brandon and I, and our cleaning guy. The first person every couple wants to tell!
The next month I would leave him our usual note of tasks, with one specific request: “Dear Fredo, please change the sheets, empty the dishwasher, and kindly keep my pregnancy a secret. Many thanks!” -Martha
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