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The + in the Little Window


So the story begins like just about any other.

A week late was really no cause for concern.  Hypothyroidism wreaks havoc on ovulation.  Often, thyroid disease and infertility go hand-in-hand, so it's been no surprise to me when Aunty Flo visits a week early or a week late or only pops in for a day or two.  I finally accepted pregnancy was nothing short of an impossibility.  At least I treated it that way.  It was easier than hoping.

January really hasn't been much different than every other month.  Maybe a few symptoms here and there that gave me pause: tingling breasts, fatigue that laid me out in the middle of the day (once, at a table in the library, and I didn't even wake up when my friend and her children joined us), gagging over dirty dishes, headaches.

I chalked up to run-of-the-mill PMS, like the terrible lower back pain.  And the moodiness.  Nothing that would really jump up at me and wave a big, yellow flag.

But on the seventh day of checking the nether-regions and finding no trace, I caved and bought the cheapest, one-shot EPT I could get my hands on (in addition to groceries for the next two weeks).

When I got home, I didn't even wait to put the groceries away.  I went straight to the bathroom and peed on the damn stick.  I watched the off-white moisture soak through the cotton and across the little windows where the result would show, and I watched the little window on the left slowly reveal a deep violet vertical line.

Now that can't be right.

I checked the legend: + Pregnant... - Not Pregnant

Okay, well what are the chances of a false-positive?

I read the instructions:  "The +/- version of the EPT pregnancy test is 99% accurate from as soon as the first day of your missed period."

What are the chances I'm the unlucky 1%?

I checked the legend again.  I studied the photos on the box.  I reread the instructions.  I accepted the results.  At least for the moment.

I didn't cry or whoop or hyperventilate, though I'd feel justified had I done any or all of them.  I'm 35 years old, for crying out loud.  Squeak's just now getting to the age when she's just about 100% self-sufficient.  I haven't changed a diaper in years.  Sometimes, I wonder if I still know how.

So instead of crying or whooping or hyperventilating, I calmly returned to the kitchen to put the groceries away.  Then I cooked dinner.  Then I ate dinner.  In between each task, I returned to the bathroom to look at the little window again, and then the legend, and then the instructions.  The result hasn't changed.

The fact of the matter is...I'm pregnant -- 4 weeks, physically; 12 hours, psychologically.

---

Miner called me from offshore after I left him a poignant message after dinner.

"Well," he said, after a very protracted pause.  "That's...unexpected."

Well-no-schit, it's unexpected.  I would've liked to have said that, but instead, I said, "Yeah, I'll say."

It sounds awful that our first reactions and our combined first reactions weren't ecstatic and joyfully tearful, but one must understand...we're older parents coming off of almost eight years out of nursery mode.  We've grown accustomed to talking about things like college for the kids and retirement for us.  The last thing we thought 2010 would hold for us was a baby.

However...beneath the practicality of shock and denial, there flows a river of pure and unadulterated gratitude.  God knows how much I've longed for another child.  He's held the desire of my heart in His hands.  He's let me cry and He's comforted me when I thought another baby was a gift not meant for me.  He turned my attention elsewhere and assured me I'd be happy and fulfilled even if the door to maternity was closed forever.

And He's given me grace when I haven't handled our as-is household to the best of my ability.

I read somewhere that God blesses you with more when you learn to care for what you have.  He blesses frugality, humility, dedication, generosity.  I feel I've possessed these values at my core, but I know as well as He does that I haven't always been good for my word.  As a matter of fact, my word has been my weakness just about all my life.

So why has He seen fit to bless me so abundantly?

The only answer is grace.  I am in no wise deserving.  But I accept His grace and again acknowledge his unending, unconditional love for me.  Joyfully, whole-heartedly, open-armedly, I accept it.

It's been seven years since a little life unfolded inside me, but for the sheer wonder of it all, it feels like the very first time.

3 comments:

Emily said...

Oh, my, that was beautiful (wiping tears)!!! I am selfishly glad God gave you such a gift for writing. Congratulations on this new gift from Him, there is not a more precious one than a new life!

'Ailina said...

Em, how I wish we were living close to each other! I think about all the women you've blessed in your vocation. Your love alone is strengthening! (hugs!)

DMK said...

this post gave me chills (in a good way)! I read your blog backwards from the last to the first post (why did I include this information? not sure).
I've been reading your blog for years...I'd hate to hazard a guess because I don't like to look stupid if I'm wrong, but I know it's been at least five years. But I think longer because I remember your littlest being around a year old. Anyway, my point is, that I recall a time or two where you mentioned your longing for another baby. I'm so glad the Lord has answered your prayers. To Him be the glory forever and ever Amen!
Denise

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