I said, “I don’t know. I’ll have to check the calendar when we’re done.” For several days I didn’t want to jinx it myself. One time a couple of years before that I had a miscarriage. At that time, I was only seven weeks along. I had only just taken a pregnancy test to confirm my suspicions. I had only just made a doctor’s appointment with an OBGYN for confirmation. Before I even got a chance to have a doctor’s confirmation, however, a heavy period had started up. Turns out I had miscarried. But that’s a long story for another time.
That other time I had announced it to the world, loudly and proudly, the very second I found out and the over-the-counter test showed me a pretty pink plus sign. We were so excited. A major part of our agreement to get married was the dual desire for children. After a slew of medical and financial problems in the early years of our marriage, we decided we were ready to try, and try and try. So of course when the first time we tried without “protection” yielded a positive result, we were ecstatic. There were dances of joy and everything. Then the miscarriage.
So this time, understandably, we were reluctant to tell anybody. I checked the calendar after dinner and nodded to myself. “Yep,” I said. “Almost a week off.” And my period has always been regularly reliable. I never missed a month. I could practically time it to the moon cycle. Four weeks from the first day of my previous menstrual cycle, I was absolutely guaranteed to start up the next one. So when I was late by a couple of days, and because I was “feeling it,” I knew. But just to be sure, this time we took about four over-the-counter pregnancy tests.

So I made an appointment with an OBGYN, a large practice going by the company name of Paragon. I felt like the luckiest woman on the face of the planet, because this group had midwives, and I was super psyched about having a midwife instead of just a doctor. My brother took me to my first visit because my husband was working. He was more excited than I was, I think. Myself? I was more anxious and uncertain than anything.
The midwife I talked to had no idea I wasn’t sure about being pregnant, which is kind of funny in retrospect. Here I was, all nervous and unsure, wanting to be absolutely 100% certain, and she already thought I was. She offered me congratulations after congratulations, gave me a “new mom-to-be” care package. At the end, realizing I hadn’t peed in a cup for them, I asked, “Aren’t you going to do a test?” She stared at me as if I were some alien creature for several minutes and then asked, “You mean you don’t know if you’re pregnant?” I explained the thing about the Equate cheapo pregnancy tests. She sounded surprised. She informed me that really the tests they do in office are the same as you get over the counter, and she had never heard of an OTC test giving up results like that before. Ironically enough, they didn’t even have any tests in their office that day. So she scheduled the lab techs to do a blood test on it along with all the other panels they usually do.
