Motherhood Problem #1: Sleep

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I had a friend send me a meme/message today about the “sleep when baby sleeps” saying that you get fed as a new parent. I responded with the question of “what do I do if the baby is sleeping and I want to sleep but the preschooler is still awake and crazy?” Because that was my real life situation.

Truth is sleep is the holy grail of parenting, the key to happiness and success often teeters on the scale of how rested you are. The more kids you have the more you adapt to interrupted and fewer overall hours of your eyes being closed.

Not going to lie, some days I roll my eyes at this whole scene about becoming parents and losing sleep but is it because I was lazy or I’m now just so used to it that, as long as someone isn’t sick throughout the night, I actually think that I am sleeping like a normal human being?!

And let me just warn any not-quite-parents-yet out there that motherhood does start at pregnancy because I remember losing sleep when I was pregnant with Harper and other moms telling me “oh you should sleep now while you can!” What a bunch of shit advice that was. How can anyone forget the immense uncomfortableness of a baby moving inside you, punching your cervix, kicking your ribs, spreading your hips apart mixed in there with the having to pee every 2 hours. From now on I’m just going to tell newlyweds “sleep now while you can because the from the moment you know your pregnant ¬†you’re screwed until they all learn how to get themselves breakfast and turn on netflix themselves.” That’s real advice.

So now to my main point. Sleeping with babies. Everyone has their own journey. With baby 1 we had a crib and bassinet/pack n play combo. I was so paranoid about him breathing I couldn’t put him in another room where the crib was, he hated the bassinet so he slept next to me. Perfectly safely. But then again I never fully slept pretty sure I didn’t enter any form of REM sleep until he was 1. Baby 2, we bought a king size bed because baby 1 kept coming into our bed here and there. It worked alright but now we have 4 people in 1 bed 3 nights a week. Somehow, baby 3 happens and I’m at a loss. I felt that I couldn’t safely sleep with a baby in our bed as long as there was the potential for the other 2 to come in (usually they would sneak in). Also, I was far more sleep deprived now as a mother of 2 already that I didn’t feel my state of sleep was as reliable as it was when 1 was born- basically, I could no longer trust myself to sleep lightly around a newborn.

I started researching (shopping) around for ideas on how to keep this new baby safe and I found the Halo bassinest. Once I found it I felt it was the answers to my prayers from the beginning because it was easy to get baby in and out of, literally could by baby right next to me without them being in the bed and best of all it swiveled so I could get up in the night without scooting down to the edge of my bed. Plus it had a sweet nightlight and vibration and other stuff that I didn’t really use. Overall best baby sleeper ever, I slept thoroughly and safely next to Iver every night, even when he was waking up every 2 hours straight for 3 weeks….we used this until he could sit up on his own, around 5-6 months.

Second purchase I made towards sleep was the dockatot. Originally I made fun of the “baby raft” but in the end it was my best friend and the hardest baby item I’ve ever had to say goodbye to. I’d put Iver in the dockatot and he would put himself to sleep. That baby pillow hugged them just right so they felt safe and secure and I felt safe and secure with him in it because I knew it was snug and it was breathable. Add in the fact that it was his bed when we traveled and it was well worth it’s price tag. I used it all the way until he was 10 months old.

Third thing toward a decent night sleep with baby 3 doesn’t work with all babies but a good swaddle. I was grateful that a friend lent me her Ollie wrap, it was the best swaddle I had ever used because you could really wrap those suckers (babies) in there and it had enough give that they could squirm but it never un-hugged them. Iver was golden in it. We used it until he grew out of it and could wiggle out, probably at around 4 months, which is a pretty long time in the swaddling world.

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the holy trinity of sleeping babies

Ollie wrap+dockatot+bassinest= at least 4 hours of sleep at one time even with a colicky baby that you haven’t figured out is actually dairy sensitive yet.

And now that I no longer have any of these but don’t have to worry as much about anyone rolling onto my baby? I was planning on buying another dockatot (there’s a bigger one) but couldn’t swallow the price on it ($260) so I did a little more research and ended up buying Iver ¬†a sheepskin to sleep on. It is amazing, transfers (what we parents call moving a sleeping baby out of our arms) onto it are very easy and he stays asleep. Though it doesn’t snuggle him as well as the dockatot did it is SO much cheaper and now everyone in my family wants their own because they are so cuddly and comfortable to sit, stand and sleep on.

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dreaming of sheep(skin)

On one final note. I heard the statistic yesterday that¬†the quality and amount of sleep only lessens for women and not for men.¬†¬†Haven’t these babies heard of feminism?! (as my husband sleeps on the couch just fine right now…. but surrounded by 2 out of 3 children).

Denver Mini Vacation

Sometime in June I started to feel the itch to get out. I’d been in SD too long and needed a trip, even a little mini trip to ease my soul. My first proposal was to Chad “lets go to Denver, take the kids to the zoo, do some shopping” but the mere thought of that stressed Chad out. I understand, we have 3 kids now, but any short lived stress seemed worth the experience to me. Chad was out but I wasn’t. I’d driven with 2 kids alone and figured 3 wouldn’t be much different, maybe some new challenges but nothing I couldn’t handle. Though, it did sound lonely just me and 3 kids so I thought it best and I mean BEST to invite my sister. It worked out even better than I imagined because she deals with my kids amazingly well, helping a ton, plus who wouldn’t want to go shopping with their sister? Just like old times in AZ only adding in 3 crazy boys.

I’d do it all over again in a heartbeat.¬†There was some stress involved but the memories that are taken away from trips like these make a life. Harper still tells people about going to Denver and both boys now jump in any elevator they get into, high speed or not.

 

My First Day as a School Parent

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I just dropped Harper off at school. Didn’t cry a single tear, not even almost. My heart swelled with love and pride for my kind-hearted boy.

As soon as we walked onto the playground Harper put his backpack down next to a tree and said “it’s okay mom, you can go now, I’m okay by myself.” I laughed and told him to go play, I wanted to stay a little. I watched him swing, going high without a push, I watched him yell and wave at the kids he knew and I knew he was more then ready to be there.

He’s going to do great and have a blast being in school, he has always thrived in groups. I, unlike many moms facing kindergarten for the first time, was ready for him to take this huge step, my biggest issue is understanding how is it possible that I am old enough to have a kid in school? I feel like I just graduated and was married last year, now I have 3 kids and one is old enough to be away from me all day? It’s mind boggling and at the same time a reminder of how exciting life is, cliche but also how quickly it goes. I remember when he was a baby I’d think about this day and consider that I’d be fairly young, as I was only 24 (6 days from 25) when he was born, thinking I might be one of the younger moms. However now that that day has arrived (probably due to having 3 kids and being a parent for 5 years now) I don’t feel young, I feel thrusted into middle age by the 3 that proceeds the zero¬†as well as the fact that I have a kid in school.

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Walking home, alone, I wasn’t sad. I wondered how we got to this place- How was I old enough to have a kid in school?! I mentally tried to recall everything I’d put in his backpack, did he have his snack, the party money, all his school supplies- what did I forget? Am I trustworthy enough to be a parent of a school aged kid? I now have to be responsible for making sure he does his homework, wakes up early enough and eats enough even when I’m not around. And now all this stuff matters and truly affects the outcome of his future! I feel like I just got past the fear of SIDS with him and now I’m suddenly worried about creating good homework habits.

One thing I realized about myself as mother today, I am a mama bird. I’m not a tiger-mom, helicopter-mom, mama bear, dragon-mom or any of those slightly terrifying parenting pictures. I love my kids, I keep them safe and close but when they are ready to fly I push them out and watch them fail or soar. And it’s at that point that I find the most enjoyment, watching them grow and become people, individuals outside of us.

 

 

Iver’s Birthday

This isn’t the first time I’ve tried writing this, I’ve tried to shorten it, I’ve reread paragraphs, wondered what part I forgot, wondered if it was too much. Having a baby is such a unique experience that I get carried away in the details and the thoughts.¬†Without writing a memoir this post will still be long and it may have what some would consider graphic detail but it is story that I want to hold in my memory forever

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On Monday, March 28th I went to bed earlier because I was tired after a long day with my family including a doctors visit earlier (the first one this pregnancy that Chad came with me) and instead of falling asleep I watched the entire new season of Girls. At one point, slightly after midnight, I noticed I was having mild, non painful contractions but because they did not hurt at all I brushed them off. I tried timing but I was terrible at it, I could tell when they started but forgot to stop the timer when the contraction waned. They weren’t close together and started getting further apart so I turned the tv off and tried to sleep. I had 3 more contractions in the next half hour, not a big deal but they made me wonder “is this it?” Around 1:30 Chad came to bed and Harper woke up begging to cuddle, I took it all as a sign to get up and get into the bath. I knew a bath would relax me enough to sleep or would help hint if I was actually starting labor.

Once in the bath, they came quicker and much more uncomfortable, not uncomfortable in a way that made me squirm but like a hug that was just a tad too tight so that I couldn’t breath comfortably. I had no convincing signs of labor yet: my water had not broken, no mucus loss or sickness of any sort. Without any proof of labor I was constantly second guessing what was happening and while doubting the reality I was in I decided¬†to go with the “better safe than sorry” mantra and woke Chad and my mom up at 2:30.

Chad and I packed quietly and headed to the hospital. He drove at least 5 mph under the speed limit despite the lack of traffic, or really any vehicle on the road. My mind tried to justify why you would drive slowly when your wife was uncomfortable but couldn’t come up with much. I mentioned that while they might just send me home when we get there it was perfectly fine to drive a little faster. He kindly, almost timidly admitted that with the time he was worried about drunk drivers as well as getting pulled over by cops patrolling for drunks- I informed him it was ¬†monday night. By now my contractions were every 3-5 minutes and I had to focus to breath through them, luckily the drive, while slow-paced, was still relatively short with hardly any bumps or red lights.

We parked outside the hospital, I waited for my contraction to pass and walked in. We checked in at the ED triage where I gave them my information while squatting on the ground silent and breathing through another contraction. It took forever but eventually the nurses came from labor and delivery and took me back to triage, an intimating room that was thankfully empty of other laboring women.

In the labor triage room they had me change, took my weight and vitals and eventually checked my cervix, moment of truth: I was at 5cm. I heard the two nurses discussing my situation saying that a doctor would probably not send me home being at 5 (I had been checked at my appointment earlier that morning and was only 2.5) even though active labor is now considered to be at 6cm and they were confident that I would be staying. I texted my friend Kim (at exactly 3:27am) who was coming to take birth photos that we would be staying, it was the real deal.

We walked down the hall to a delivery room and they put me on the monitors as per their regulations. The lab guy came in and the nurses put him in his place about drawing from me (I had complained that they tried to draw while I was in the worst part of labor). I had to be on the monitors a little over the required 20 minutes because baby wasn’t giving them the readings they wanted (he was resting) but as soon as they were off I hightailed it to the shower knowing the relief that was brought by standing and the endless hot water.

I have no recollection of what Chad was doing at this point, I remember him checking up on me, seeing if I needed anything, making sure I was safe- but there was so little to actually DO besides breath and wait and mop up the water on the floor. I was waiting for the next contraction, waiting for the break between them, waiting to have a baby.

I stood in the shower and let the water hit my low back, positioning my hips so that the hot water rolled down my belly. I would wiggle, I’d tense but when swaying back and forth, my body bent forward I felt the rhythm, the pace that we both needed, our white space to work in.

As soon as¬†each wave¬†would start I attempted to try the various techniques I’d learned:

Hypnosis: “turning off my switch” and allowing my body to completely relax and my mind to empty. Didn’t work. My muscles were completely relaxed and it only made me feel¬†pain in my abdomen that much stronger.

Visualization: as a contraction started I’d imagine either what my body was doing in the sensations. Also didn’t work. It brought all my attention to the area of pain again. I could visualize what it was doing but my brain became focused on the pain and how it was working. Basically I noticed how bad it fucking hurt.

What did work? Focusing on the water hitting me and breathing. Controlling my breath gave me an outlet for the pain and took away *some* of the awareness of my pain and let me get more into my head. When I focused on my breath I became very inward, quiet and intense for those moments so that when it started to pass I could be normal, I could enjoy my break and interact with Chad and my nurses. I learned the count to the peak of discomfort, it came fast and left slowly so I tried to match my breath to it, breathing in quickly and exhaling slowly.

Between each¬†contraction I would think “that wasn’t too bad”and I’d immediately dread the next one as it came. Then it became unbearable, I wanted a break and concluded that I deserved one. I called to Chad and told him he needed to call the nurse because I wanted an epidural. I was confidant in this decision, I know the bliss¬†of an epidural as I know the beauty of medication free birth but started to bargain anyway “if I’m not at 7cm I want an epidural, if I’m further I’ll be okay” then after another contraction “I mean, 8cm not 7.” Chad gave me a funny look, he might have said something along the lines of sticking to that 7cm, luckily the nurse that was training for L&D showed up. She told me they would want to check me first. I agreed, knowing they would and started to grab a couple of towels for the mad dash to the bed.

I made it to the bed just as a contraction started, which really means I was perched on the bed like a terrified 3-legged cat. Three-legged because my left leg didn’t make it up and was stuck on the ground as I arched my back up and took my forehead down to the bed. Chad asked what I wanted and I told him to push against the back of my pelvis. I was pushing against Chads hands as hard as he pushed into my low back, maybe harder because I actually had the thought that I shouldn’t push so hard against him or he might stop (he wouldn’t, labor makes you think weird things). The nurse watched me breathing through the contraction and offered some sort affirmations in how great I was doing and a something about how calm I was and I informed her that I wasn’t moving so she would need to check me from behind if she wanted to check at all, this is what I call labor bluntness, not always the most polite.¬†¬†She walked out of my vision as I waited for the moment of truth, 6cm, 7cm….

“You’re complete.” The other nurse started prepping and they mentioned getting the on-call OB soon. I informed them that soon wasn’t enough because my last baby was pretty fast at this point and sure enough, the next contraction showed some proof that he was well on his way out and my water broke though it was hardly a trickle. Seconds later the OB walked in and started opening up a huge plastic sheet on the floor in front of me. Oddly concerned with the mess that labor can cause I asked her if I could just stand over that plastic. She kindly suggested that I stay on the bed, even standing (as I half was), because it’s a softer surface if a baby were to fall out. Made me smile that I was so concerned about making a mess I forgot concern over dropping my baby on a hard floor.¬†I let the contractions do the work of pushing for me but didn’t feel the relief I knew possible at this point, I was attempting to let¬†my body go through the process it was designed for and wanted to slow down the process in order to let my contractions¬†do most of the pushing work as well as to prevent any tearing.¬†Relaxed as I was about letting my body work at this point I hated the position I was in, feeling no relief, but did not know what to do or how to fix it. ¬†The OB suggested I lay on my side, that sounded good like a great idea but I needed to be told what to do. I didn’t know how to move and needed to be told which side to lay on. I demanded to be directed and followed the direction given, going from lost to safe in a single movement I laid on my right side.

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Once on my side pushing commenced with one strong push, I consider this my first actual push because before there was no active muscle engagement, I simply relaxed my body in order for it to open and direct the baby. The OB mildly informed me that baby was not reacting well to the contractions (they where holding monitors on my belly in order to get a heartbeat reading) she insisted¬†that I needed to get the baby out fast, as quickly as possible. Calmly I waited for the next contraction, when it started I pushed, and pushed and pushed. I felt the head come out, I took a breath and relaxed for a moment but held onto the push, it felt like I was done, my work was finished but someone reminded me I still had shoulders (and the rest of the baby) to get out so I kept pushing without waiting for the next contraction, this is the first time I made a noise, half moan half ahh, grabbing everything in me to birth this boy. The shoulders, I still shudder, there was some sort of horrifying pop that happens when you hastily have to push the thickest part of a baby out. Every time I tried to sleep the following 48 hours I relived this terrifying pop. I don’t think it was audible to anyone but I definitely felt it. Only 2 minutes of¬†pushing and 1 hour from being admitted Iver was here, born at 4:28am on March 29, 2016.

I saw my purple slimy baby, the doctor made sure I saw his face as the nurses grabbed blankets for us. He rested and squirmed and cried out on my belly. I lifted him up slightly over and over just to look at his face. He was so warm against me, dry but sticky and incredibly soft. He smelled metallic, not like blood but like new, clean earth. His dark hair was matted against his head, wet, not long, but a nice covering and longer at the top of his crown his perfect little mouth, cleft chin and dark grey eyes looking for me. My mind immediately chose the name Iver, though for the next day I would question it and attempt to mentally chose Leif. His hands where (and are) huge but the fingernails not too long. He kicked a little and each time he yelled out I would wonder if I should attempt to feed him only to pick him up and stare at his little face.

032916_0042_BWI tried to pull him up past my belly in order to try to feed him but the doctor told me not too, his umbilical cord was too short and he was as far as he could go. She also told me that he had the chord around his neck hence the quick delivery. So I watched his eyes, his hands pawing, felt him, smelled him.

While they cleaned me up and packed me up we sat and oohed over Iver. He latched well, nursed¬†quickly then fell asleep. He peed across my stomach and I requested new blankets. Kim showed up, disappointed that she missed it but still willing to be a support. Chad took a nap. The nurse came to check on my bleeding every 15 minutes, I informed her that I felt like I was gushing blood, it wasn’t stopping. Sure enough, I had filled the bed with blood. She called in the head nurse who quickly started me up on pitocen to help my uterus contract back down, it worked perfectly.¬†032916_0016

032916_0021032916_0029032916_0017Eventually the nursery came in and took his stats, amazed at his size, what a long baby, why big hands, so alert, sweet little face. They diapered him and gave him back to me then they swiftly kicked me out of the room and escorted me¬†upstairs (it was a very busy time in our hospitals labor and delivery). As we walked through the hall and past the nurses station I hear whispering, specifically one person say “was that her? the one?” I tried so hard to listen but I figured it was maybe slight thankfulness, easy in easy out-patient, and the fact that I was so quiet for a natural birth (one of my goals with this birth was to be more internal and I absolutely succeeded with that). I guess I won’t know why they pointed or whispered but it didn’t matter, because I had a sweet baby boy in the bassinet as I hunched down the hallway.

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[photos by: Heritage Photography]

Harper is Turning 5!

Today starts Harper’s last week as a 4 year old! Four has been the most challenging age so far mostly because he has truly started testing limits with blatant defiance, luckily it’s all a normal part of growing up and his big heart is always underneath the layers of naughtiness.
Without getting sappy and remembering the last year, the last 5 years and how much my boy has grown I’ll get to the point. I asked Harper some his annual birthday questions, the answers where as to be expected.

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Did God Make Poop?

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Harper is just about to turn 5 and his brain is working full speed. He’s picking up social cues, learning the alphabet and digging into theology.

Harper has been asking a lot of questions about God. This is good, we want him to question, to learn and to put things together. This is also insanely annoying at times:

Mom did God make that bathtub? Why?

Mom did God make me? Why?

Mom did God make dirt? Why?

Mom did God glass? Why?

I try to treat each question with respect both to Harper wanting to learn and to God, not wanting to dismiss the importance nor the message that yes, God made everything or at least gave man the knowledge to make it.

Last night I asked Harper if he wanted to pray at bedtime. He said yes and continued on:

Dear Jesus. Mom did God make the sky?

Yes

Why?

To put something above us

Where does God live?

He is everywhere

No, like what city does God live in

Oh, He lives in heaven

Where is heaven?

It’s a special city that we go to live in when we die. Now Harper lets say prayers.

Okay. Does God make poop?

God gives us food and we eat the food and our bodies turn it to poop so kind of.

Does God make pee?

God gives us drinks and our bodies turn them into pee.

But, does God make potties?

Yes God makes potties.

This is the point where I’m not annoyed and pray for Harper over his questions because we just need to go to bed. I was able to stop the questions but only temporarily because the next morning he started asking more:

Mom why do we have to die?

Because we aren’t made to live on Earth forever in our bodies, that’s why we grow and get older.

But everyone has to die?

Yes eventually

Why?

Because God wants us to come live with Him in heaven.

Like your old grandpa? He’s in heaven with God?

(We stopped at my grandparents grave sight around Christmas and I had explained to Harper that they had died and what that meant)

Yes like my grandpa.

So when is that boy going to heaven?

What boy Harper?

That boy, my older cousin?

I don’t know. (and I don’t know what or who he was talking about, it’s slightly creepy but to be fair he’s had a lot of confusion about what exactly cousins are- he asked if a girl we walked by at target was his cousin… so who knows who or what he was referring to).

This has continued. I stopped writing this yesterday and of course at bed time there were more “did God make…” questions that I tried to have grace in answering but again told him it was time to be quiet. Even in playing he asks me if God or Santa made each toy. I’m hoping this “phase” (oh how I’ve loved that word as a parent) is almost over but if you have and quips to deal with 5 year old theology, please, please share it with me.

 

 

 

On His Terms: How baby 3 showed up to the party

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After I had Willem I felt like I was content with the kids I had and the family God had given me. I was content for a very long time and honestly I would have continued to be content if Harper and Willem where my only sons ever. However, sometime early last spring I watched my boys playing together, pushing trucks around the backyard, make-believing construction sites, having a wonderful time together and this little thought crept into my head: how awesome are my kids, they just love each other. How can we say no to just two kids when our boys are so obviously fantastic wouldn’t another child just add to the fun and greatness we experience in this family?

And that was that. I desired another child but didn’t feel like it was a need so I was gentle about the situation. I started to bring it up to Chad, who was consistently reluctant. My plan (hahahahahahahahahaha, my life is never to my plan, learned that one long ago) was I wanted to start trying for another kid in the fall, giving us a specific amount of time, about 4 months, to try and if it didn’t work out then we were meant to only have 2 kids. I figured that by not trying for another kid I was saying no to God’s potential plan for us, even wondering if He wanted me to have a daughter and by not having another I would be denying His plan. I didn’t want to expect or force another child into our life especially after we had already been blessed with (forced with) 2 but I thought that by putting a specific time limit on this openness I’d be limiting my own expectations and emotions.

In hindsight however, I was putting God on the spot expecting Him to preform (or not) and demanding an answer from Him. Not only was I demanding an answer from God but I was putting a time limit on how long He had to answer me.

Another thing I was looking forward to actually trying for a baby, fertility has been an issue in our marriage in the way of hyper fertility with 1 very unplanned and very loved birth control pill baby and another more prepared for but still surprise pregnancy less than a month after weaning my first baby.

My ideas, my plan was set, I wanted another kid but I wasn’t willing to sacrifice my husband’s sanity so I very bluntly explained to him what I wanted and why. Openness is key right? He listened and he wanted to give me what I wanted but he wasn’t ready and was unsure of what he wanted to so I never got a yes or no and instead I started teasing. Let’s face it, having a third child was not a must on my list it was only a want and I knew this but I wanted Chad to want it as well so I’d say things like:

“If we have another kid, I’ll give you full naming rights.”

“What if your parents decided to stop at 2?” (Chad is the third born)

“If I can have a baby you can have a GoPro.”

I’d say these things in jest but also to persuade. And we continued to talk occasionally about it but the talks just went in circles and I was okay with that because I wasn’t getting blatantly shot down.

Enter mid-summer. Life was hectic, Chad seemed to be working a ton and I was constantly with the boys and busy doing bridesmaid stuff for one of my best friends beautiful wedding. Chad and I rarely saw each other much less slept in the same bed at the same time. Thoughts of a baby where still in my heart but with no desire to try until the fall (I wanted a spring baby) it was definitely not in the forefront of my brain though I still enjoyed teasing Chad here and there in order to prep him for bringing back the serious talk in a couple months.

One night while Chad was at work I was giving the kids a bath and doing what any mother of young kids does when they don’t have to supervise their kids for drowning anymore but can’t leave them alone because all the water will end up on the floor and out of the bath tub . . . I cleaned. That particular night I was working on the closet and found a cheap pregnancy test. While nursing Willem I never had a period so I’d buy cheap tests to take every other month or so just to put my mind at ease. My period was due the next day and I knew I wasn’t pregnant but I couldn’t throw away an unused test. Even in knowing the test would be negative there’s something that’s just a little exciting about taking one, whether it’s hope of a baby or reassurance of a lack of pregnancy there is a little thrill. So I peed on it. A few minutes pass and I turn around to throw it away, took a second look, then studied it. I saw a line.

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It wasn’t a strong line, hell it was hardly there, so it was probably an accident right? My period was due the next day, I had zero symptoms and it was physically impossible according to science. We had been responsibly practicing natural family planning which I was led to believe is pretty damn accurate in preventing and planning for pregnancy and I was following it right! I double checked my ovulation chart app to check my” life facts” then began to scour google using searches along the lines of “accuracy of blue dye pregnancy tests” and “false positive pregnancy tests.” Luckily I found that there was a very small chance that this test was wrong but considering all the factors, I was sure it was. Then at the end of the night, just to see if there was something I was missing I took the test back out of the trash and ripped the plastic apart looking inside, I’m not sure what I was expecting to see in there but I thought it might help my mystery, it didn’t.

The next day after Chad woke up that afternoon I snuck out of the house¬†alone with the excuse of needing something from Target. Luckily a Target trip on Chad’s day off means I get to go alone.¬†At Target I quickly found 2 other items I had to have in order to make my basket look like I wasn’t there for one reason only (plus I had to come home with something). Sulking in the test aisle I prayed no one I knew would be there that morning (small town issues) and studied the tests looking for the holy grail of pregnancy tests, the “First Response, Early Response.” This test is the relied upon one for telling women what’s going on in their uterus. It meshed well in my little red basket and I scurried to check out luckily only a few yards away.

As soon as I made my purchase I ran out of the store. Just kidding. I went to the bathroom and took the test in a public stall like a teenager hiding from her parents. I peed, tossed the test in my purse and discarded all the evidence (box, wrapper, directions and receipt) in the bathroom there and then went to my car.

Turned the car on, opened my Dr. Pepper and took a deep breath. I pulled out the test and saw 2 lines, 1 line = not pregnant. 2 lines=pregnant. It was fainter than the control but there was no mistaking that line. Chad was going to be pissed.

Pregnancy test on the arm rest in my car.

Pregnancy test on the arm rest in my car.

Telling him is a whole other story but to finish this one off I felt insane. It was too much for my mind to process, this is what I wanted just not how I wanted. I was extremely happy but also terrified (as anyone is when they get a positive test), worried about telling Chad and mostly confused by how it could happen. Well, I’m sure it was by the grace of God and him pointing at my life and gently teaching me yet again, He makes the rules, not me.

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