Positive Pregnancy Test Pregnant

Baby Baking: Weeks 0-3

A fucking knew it – the mentally uttered words. I had known for weeks I was carrying a stow away. When people tell you they ‘knew’ they were pregnant straight away, you always give I the ‘aye, did yea?’ with plenty an eye roll. But a did fucking know!

I think the most telling sign was being a confident, auch it’s fine, we are safe, almost smug pair of chumps that decided biology wouldn’t bring about a baby so quickly. I actually uttered the words ‘na, this is the least likely time to fall pregnant’. To say my cycle is irregular is a gross understatement. Ranging anything from 27 to 60 days, my ovaries decided to crack the whip and show just who is boss (as if I don’t fucking know), laugh in my misinformed face and release an egg for the baby making.
In truth, after the deed I was as much willing myself to be pregnant as wanting to be pregnant. We had spoke about another child for a while, months, possibly up to a year previously. The discussion was always surrounded by the shit show that followed the birth of Jess. Post natal depression had left some very deep and healing scars, as well as opening a door to a very dark place that is terrifying. Having the ability and strength to tear us apart, we fought hard to be free from the reign of depression. Neither one of us looked upon a second child with the rose tinted glasses of first time parents. It was very much a deep conversation, withholding our ‘wants’ against the very real reality of what may or may not come to pass again.
Yet, we both wanted another child. Just like the first time, for me, the pull of motherhood was becoming stronger. To be pregnant again was becoming less of a fear and more of a desire. To be given another chance of having a newborn. I’d think of how much I love my daughter and what it would be like to feel that love doubled. For us, we knew we wanted more than one child. And I’ll be fucked if I let fear or worry consume us.

Job done, or was it…

After the dirty deed of seed plating, pregnancy was never off my mind. It’s not the most enjoyable place to be in. You are always second guessing, wondering what if, impatiently waiting until it’s time to take a test. I can see how women become addicted to peeing on a stick – something I learned from my incessant googling of every moment and fart I had ‘I’m so gassy, am I pregnant?’, ‘can you feel pregnant at 1 week?’, ‘can you feel conception?’, ‘I had sex 10 days ago, am I pregnant?’. Seriously, my internet history is pretty much the layout for a pregnancy book. I went slightly crazy.
But, I wasn’t so crazy. I was right. I did think, either I am losing my shit and setting myself up for a world of hurt, or I am pregnant. Painfully, the answer to either requires patience. During this time I gained only a slither of the pain and torment women who are trying to conceive endure. There are endless forums of women in solidarity, discussing their every body function, hoping this is s sign of pregnancy. Women really are amazing. My short stint in limbo was enough to completely occupy my mind day and night.
Knowing that it is mentally unhealthy and a complete waste of money, I bought many a pee stick. Fuck, I even bought a digital test, despite knowing that they are likely to require a high level of the pregnancy hormome (hCG). But I was a gonner.
My boobs hurt. A lot. Well before my period was due, which is extremely unusual. However, like I say, my cycle is unusual, so my cycle could have been one of those short little fuckers that like to slap the ‘I get a period once every 2 months’ smile from my face. So technically, the sore boobs could have meant an early cycle. But these weren’t normal hormonal beasts. They hurt in different places and became VERY heavy. Not quite my normal premenstrual ‘porn boobs’, something a little bit different. Next followed extreme tiredness and fatigue. I’m talking 12 hours sleep, yet I’m sitting in work day dreaming about going home, ordering a pizza, eating it in bed and falling straight to sleep. Which is exactly what I done, on a few occasions. The tiredness isn’t unusual either. I’m a parent. Who isn’t tired? But the mood of wanting to hibernate in excess of 4 days is strange for me. Nor was it accompanied by poor mood, so I wasn’t being a depressed bitch. I was just being a tired and hungry bitch.
And hungry I fucking am. Like third trimester kinda hungry. One night I ate a whole curry, chicken pakora and naan bread, without it touching the sides – not like me, I’m usually a few nibbles and a ‘annnnd I’m done’. And after I was still snacky.
More and more I knew that A. I’m well and truly up the duff or B. by the end of this week I’ll be on my period and a mess of a human. Dangling the baby carrot in my face made me know for sure how I felt. I wanted to be pregnant.
So onto the pee stick roller coaster I go. At this point, I couldn’t have been far from conception, a few weeks. When you look up the biology on that shit, it’s a minefield. Time frames range from 1 day to 5 days. Then you add in ovulation and fertilization and their time frames, and fucking hell, get the mystic ball out because all that shit varies. I kept all that ‘negativity’ in the back of my mind and started pissing away money. Literally. I think I went through 4 tests, in a quick time frame that as a logical human being I’m embarrassed to say *cough every few days for 2 weeks*.
I knew I was ‘too early’ but man, there’s women online that have so much hCG spurting around their bodies that they sneeze on the test post pumping and it shows up positive. The more mine said ‘nope’ the more I knew I HAD to get a grip of my will power and simmer the fuck down. I couldn’t understand why I had sharp pains, cramping to the point of wanting to lie down and eating like a beast, if I wasn’t pregnant. But who am I to disagree with a negative pee stick? Two of those little shits gave a very faint positive. I mean faint. To the point of googling ‘how faint is faint’. I’m not joking when I say I was lost in all this pregnancy obsession. Turns out, some say you can tell if it’s a true line as opposed to an evaporation line, by ripping the stick open and wiping the line with water. If the line vanishes it’s most likely an evaporation line, if not, congratulations! So I did. And the line didn’t move. So I rubbed again. And the line completely ripped off the strip. You can be sure I wasn’t going running through to Dave with that ‘positive test’. I already felt like a complete nutter. A nutter that was convinced she was just looking for a positive result, like a mirage, slowly becoming deflated. Knowing that it’s extremely unlikely to be pregnant this quick, I was beginning to get down about it all. I made myself order one last test, not to be delivered until a week had past. I would wait for this one. This would be my last. If this said no, I would only have a week or so for my body to confirm my lack of pregnancy. No more torturing myself.
The two little pink tests arrived. Despite knowing morning urine is best, again, having absolutely no self control, I whipped a stick out mid morning and gave it a whirl. At first the ‘control’ line came up, good the test is working fine. Then the second one popped up. Knew it. Fucking knew it. I felt like I had just side eyed my body, it trying to conceal the truth, meanwhile I knew all along it was harbouring a mini human. I took the test over to David and we both smiled in disbelief. ‘who does that?’ was uttered. Who gets pregnant at the first shot. Extremely lucky people. We are under no illusion about that. Much to my disapproval, the man seems to think he has some form of ‘super’ quality about him. Knocking up his partner, twice, at the drop of a hat (his pants). Men are simple folk. But I’ll humour him. He’s in a for a fucking ride of it if my hormones are anything to go by thus far…


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