Pregnancy Journal

By Kelly

Women, as a collective, share many things. Stories about buying our first bra, getting our first period and waiting for that high-school crush to call can unite a disparate group and cause instant camaraderie to well up.

But nothing really touches the symbiotic topics of pregnancy and childbirth. It can ignite a firestorm of conversation. "How long did you throw up? Yeah, me too." "And that heartburn! Didn't you want to call a firefighter some nights and say, 'Help me out here!'" "And then I started pushing, and I thought I was going to die from the pain."

I love that. I love that moms, no matter their ages or backgrounds, share this common theme in the story. No one understands it like us. No one has lived it like us. And while each of our chapters in the story is unique, we all share an understanding of this unique calling of motherhood.

Certainly, I am just one voice among many. But because I am also launching down this path for the fifth -- and most likely, final -- time, I thought I'd keep a journal of this pregnancy here at 5 Minutes for Parenting. It won't be a recording of my weight and the baby's development. Rather, I hope it will be a reflection on this amazing, weird journey of pregnancy. (Today's entry is actually a few weeks old, but I thought you might like to hear how we discovered I'm with child.)

Please add your voice to the conversation as we travel these next 35 weeks together. There is nothing I love more than a good pregnancy story. I can't wait to hear your experiences.

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It’s one of those moments that makes you doubt your senses.

I took a pregnancy test last week, secretly hoping, but not expecting a positive result. My hands shook as I waited for the test liquid (discreet, no?) to spread down the stick. I watched as a solid line showed up (the negative line) and then the test line (so I knew I did it correctly). And then, ever so faintly, so pale I didn’t trust my eyes, I saw a plus sign appear in the result window.

Or at least I thought I did. I looked. I turned it in the light. I looked again. Faint. Oh so faint. Weak, like my breathing at that moment.

I decided to call it a negative and test again in a few days.

And that re-test day was today.

By this point, I had a stronger suspicion. There was nothing definite – no symptoms, other than a missed period. And even that is questionable, given my irregular history.

But I still wondered. Six days after a dim maybe-I-need-glasses test result. Could it really be?

It could.

It is.

I’m pregnant.

--

I tested first thing in the morning, to take advantage of that morning pee. I was hurrying, lest the kids – who don’t understand the concept of privacy – push through the bathroom store and see Mom putting a lid on something she just took out of the potty. My hands shook – again. But my hands shake every time I take a pregnancy test. There’s so much life-changing potential in that little plastic stick.

The plus signed showed up immediately. Immediately. No doubting, no wondering. It was definite.

Corey was in the shower, unaware that everything was about to change.

I stuck my head behind the shower curtain and held up the positive test.

He squinted.

“I’m pregnant!” I mouthed through the thunder of water.

His eyes got big. He focused more intently on the test.

“Really?” he grinned.

I grinned back.

But we didn’t have long to rejoice. It was only the third day of school for Natalie, and the all-important first day of kindergarten for Connor. I had to get ready for the day, make sure backpacks were packed, clothes were on, lunches were ready. Mom was needed.

I shoved the positive test deep into my bathroom drawer, behind the floss and under the hair shine serum. For now, it’s a secret between me and Corey and the God who sees this little one.

Kelly also blogs at Love Well.