Something I have said silently to myself over and over, for the past three months. Never too loud, as if saying it too loud might jinx it. It was something that was far from planned. Though it is hard to consider having unprotected sex, on a day you could be ovulating, unplanned.
And yet the word on the digital stick, floored me. PREGNANT. I was pregnant.
This would be the fifth time I had read that word, or saw two lines. With my first one, I didn’t know any better. I thought Pregnant today, meant pregnant tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that, until some 36 weeks later I had my beautiful baby girl.
Of course that wasn’t the case with pregnancy number 2. I enjoyed being pregnant for a month, and then it was over. Except “over” actually took another 4 weeks. As if my body was in self-denial. A D&C was the last resort in convincing my uterus that it actually WASN’T.
I wanted another child, but I was terrified. So I tried to ignore the possibility of becoming pregnant. Luckily, ignorance is not a good form of birth control and became pregnant with my son. Despite a few scares, I had stayed pregnant, and my body, with God’s careful handy work, gave birth to another perfect baby.
When I found out a year later I was pregnant again, I was in disbelief. Two words to describe our practice of birth control: Careful and Consistent. On top of that, I was still breastfeeding my chunky monkey, and breastfeeding him a lot. But somehow I was pregnant again, which seemed like a miracle. Excitement turned to fear very quickly. Although my OBGYN assured me that everything was going to be fine, I lost my “miracle” baby at the end of the first trimester. I was bitter, and angry, but trusted that there was some bigger picture. I never blamed God. I believe that God is merciful, and also that death isn’t an end all. But I was bitter.
Fast forward three years, and there I was starring at the word again. PREGNANT.
I spent the first few weeks simply waiting for it all to end. Expecting disaster with ever twinge, or cramp. I refused to talk about things like gender, or names, or the nursery. And yet with ever wake up, every wave of nausea, every discomfort, or glance at my growing abdomen, I softly repeated to myself the word that had appeared weeks prior, “Pregnant”. I have been thankful for every day that I could still say that to myself. Not knowing if this would be the case tomorrow or the next day. But today, I’m Pregnant.