I waited an agonizing minute, sitting on the bathroom floor against the tub before checking the test. I looked at the results, expecting to see a minus, but where there was supposed to be a “plus” symbol, I had a horizontal line, all alone. Thinking the test was faulty, I used the second one, but got the same result. To make sure of what I was seeing, I called the 1-800 number on the box and the receptionist confirmed it. We are having a baby.
When I was a teenager, I was diagnosed with PCOS (polycystic ovary syndrome). I was informed by more than one doctor that I wasn’t able to ovulate on my own, which is why I was the only girl in my group of friends who didn’t carry tampons in her handbag. Pregnancy was “unlikely” to ever happen to me, so I accepted that I would one day own a few small-breed mutts and call them my babies. Zac was on board, we high-fived, and that was that. That is, until I was suddenly nauseated for no reason at all while we were driving around, listening to music. I wanted to throw up. I never want to throw up, but last night, it was all I could wish for. I made myself eat a few crackers and the nausea went away. Strange, I thought. Then I started thinking of how my bra was feeling a little smaller, I was dozing off while watching movies, and the very thought of drinking one of Mawmaw’s Jumex Strawberry-Banana nectars (which I loved) made me feel so queasy, I had to lie down. We went to Walmart and I made the purchase of a two-count pregnancy test kit.