The Verdict – Not Crazy

For the first month of my pregnancy I was pretty sure I had lost my mind. I would constantly go from being 100% sure that I was pregnant, to 100% sure that I was crazy.

We were sitting in church one Sunday in November, when Steve leans over and goes, “I think it’s time to start working on baby number two.” Really? In the middle of church? You want to discuss baby making plans? If we hadn’t been discussing the right time to have our second child for a year, and if Steve hadn’t always wanted to wait for this reason or that, I would have told him to cool his jets, and we would talk about it at a more appropriate time. However, since it was the first time that Steve was like “Let’s do this”, I didn’t dare stifle him. If you scare that away you never know when it will come back.

So, there we were, right in the middle of Sunday school with the calendar opened on our phones discussing windows of conception. We mapped out all of the vital travel dates, and times of the year that we would prefer not to have a child (ie December). Then we did some complicated period and fertility math to determine the times that we could conceive in order to have a baby at a time that wasn’t totally ludicrous. Our math told us that we could conceive between the beginning of December and the end of February. If that didn’t work, we would have to wait, until September before we could start “trying” again.

**For the record, I hate the term “We’re trying to have a baby.” I hate it, hate it, hate it. I wish I could explain why, but it makes me want to gag. My friend and I discussed this term one day and came up with a few alternate terms… “We’re having sex in hopes of making a baby.” “We’re having productive sex” or “reproductive sex” – har har. “Sex is no longer about us.” … you get the idea**

We knew going into trying (gag), that it may take us longer than we would like to be successful because of my surgery. Our doctor had told us that our fertility would drop by about 30% after my right tube was removed. I was really worried that it would take forever, and that I would be on an emotional rollercoaster for months on end waiting for a baby. Steve was not so worried. Since we appeared to be super fertile to begin with, losing 30% would put us on a normal fertility rate – conception according to Steve.

Ladies and gentlemen, my missing right tube was not an issue. We conceived during the very first month we were trying (again gag). I could probably tell you exactly when it happened, but since this is not that kind of blog, we’re not going there. My family does read this after all.

I woke up one morning VERY early in December (again we’re not getting into specifics because this is not that kind of site), and as soon as my feet hit the floor I was like, “Oh crap! I’m pregnant.” I know you’re not supposed to know that soon, but I knew. I tried to push it out of my mind because it was going to be a long time before I would know if I was pregnant or crazy. The jury would be out for several weeks coming to a verdict.

Over the next few weeks, I continued to ride the crazy lady trying to have a baby roller coaster. My friend had to deal with a lot of crazy Renee going, “I swear I’m pregnant,” “I can’t be pregnant. It’s not supposed to be this easy for us,” and “If I’m not pregnant, I need to be admitted to the psyche ward because I can’t go through this every month.” Poor friend.

There was one day that I was feeling my boobs every five minutes because they were sore. We’re talking  yowza sore. The whole day I was talking to myself. “Do my boobs hurt because I’m pregnant?” “Do they hurt because I’m about to start my period?” “Do they hurt because I’ve been squeezing them all day?” When you get to that point, it’s time for an intervention. Then there was the day that I had to help with a church function, and the entire day I felt as drunk as a sorority sister at a frat party. I was shaky, queasy and not thinking clearly – totally looped. Again, my mind went from “This is so implantation day, I remember this day when I was pregnant with Moanna and passed out in culinary class,” to, “You crazy woman; it’s the flu.”

To make matters worse, Steve kept asking me if I had started my period, or if I felt pregnant. Our rule has always been that he’s not ever allowed to ask me if I’m pregnant. When I know, I will tell him. For some reason (because he had a feeling too), my husband broke this rule many times, and I had to lie to him many times. I have always believed that telling a guy, be it a one night stand, your husband or anyone in between, that you think you are pregnant is a very bad idea. Then, not only are you freaking out and weighing your sanity, but then so his he, and that is just too much to handle at this time in your life. Once you KNOW, then you tell him.

I never in a million years thought I would turn into a crazy over pregnancy games. Then again, I’ve never had to “try” (gag) to get pregnant. Moanna was a total surprise and defeated birth control, and my last pregnancy we were in “if it happens, it happens” mode, and that was only for two months.

The start date of my period came and went with no sign of my period. I went to the bathroom 50 times that day to check. I wanted to run out and buy a test that day (I know better than to keep them in the house), but I waited. I waited until the next day was half over, and then I couldn’t take it anymore. My patience and sanity were long gone. I went to Kroger and bought the cheapest test I could find and a bottle of water. FYI – this is NOT the time to be cheap. Splurge on the name brand.

On the way home, I drank my bottle of water and prepared myself to pee on the stick. When I got home, I walked in the house, locked both locks on the front door and then I checked the garage door and back door to make sure they were locked. Then I went into my room and locked that door, and then into our bathroom and locked that door. I was home alone, but it was still important for every door to be locked.

I opened the box, sat down, took a deep breath and peed. If this were not a pregnancy post, this would be TMI, but when it comes to pregnancy there is no such thing as TMI – it’s all out there. I peed with the stick facing away from me so that I couldn’t’ see the result screen. When I was done I capped it and placed it face down and left the bathroom.

While I waited for the test to process, I got down on my knees and prayed. I prayed really deeply and really hard. I prayed for the test to be positive to prove that I wasn’t pregnant and not crazy. I prayed for the baby to be happy and healthy. I prayed for the pregnancy and delivery to be safe and healthy. I prayed for everything I could think of related to pregnancy. As I was closing my prayer, I got an overwhelming sense that everything was perfectly happy, healthy and safe, and that I wasn’t crazy. I was nothing short of giddy.

I got up from my knees and marched into the bathroom to confirm my prayer by reading the stick I had just peed on. I looked at the stick for a minute or two trying to figure out if that was actually a positive sign in the window or if I was just imaging it. “What the F is this supposed to mean!? Is this a yes or a no? Does this mean I might be pregnant or that I’m kind of pregnant?” So much for being in touch with God. It was like looking at one of those hidden picture posters where you have to relax your eyes and tilt your head to the side in order to see the image.

I texted my friend, “The universe is evil.”

She responded, “Not pregnant?”

Me, “No pretty sure I am, but there is a very faint positive on this test.”

To get a better look at the test, I went downstairs to a window where the sun was shining in. As I was tilting the stick in the air and trying to decipher the results window, I heard keys at the front door. PANIC!!! No one was supposed to be home for hours. I shoved the test into my shirt, and avoided eye contact with my brother as he rushed into the house trying to find his phone.  SERIOUSLY UNIVERSE???

I had only bought one test – one cheap and unreliable test, so I would have to return to the store to pick up a real pregnancy test. However, before I could do that, I had to take dinner to Steve at work. I tried my best to play it cool, and keep it short. If Steve asked why I was antsy, my response would be, “I just have to pee really bad.” It wouldn’t be a lie.

On the way home, I stopped at the store and bought a 2 pack of tests and another bottle of water. When I got home, I went through my door locking ritual and peed on the stick. While I waited for the results this time, I talked to God again. This time it was more like, “I’m not doubting you God. I just need to see an obvious positive result so I can let the crazy go. You know me well enough to understand right?”

The positive result on this test was more clear, but it still wasn’t “Whabam! You’re pregnant!” like it was with Moanna. Still, it was positive. I’m not crazy.

I texted my friend, “The verdict is in. Not crazy.”

She responded with something like, “OMG are you serious?”

I couldn’t tell if her response was excitement, or if she was quite sure I was crazy despite what the test said. She’s probably right.

At least I’m crazy AND pregnant!

We’re Having a Baby!

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