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Two Pink Lines

The morning of Monday, July 5th, I had the day off and it was the last week before Brian started his new job at Tulane (he started on Friday, the 9th) and we were planning to get breakfast uptown and walk around his new campus.

I had expected my cycle to start on Tuesday, June 29th-Brian’s birthday and it hadn’t come yet. A few days late, I told myself that it was stress or normal or that I had miscalculated my cycle. A few days later I stopped drinking alcohol as a measure of caution. But on Monday, I woke up obsessed (where was it?)

I got up to go to the bathroom and the pregnancy test box that was left over from the year before when we had spent a month “trying” to get pregnant was staring at me. In a hurry I opened it followed the instructions verbatim. I set it on the counter and washed my hands trying to fool myself into being calm…blasé even. Staring at the clock for 3 minutes felt like an eternity, willing myself not to look at the stick until the full time had elapsed.

Time’s up. Two pink lines. Pregnant.

Pregnant! Pregnant? Pregnant!
My mind started a flurry of thoughts…like how do I tell Brian? I didn’t even warn him that I was taking the test this morning-I did it out of impulse and fear and excitement and curiosity and the stubborn pursuit of truth. How could we be pregnant? We hadn’t really even tried. My mind was overloaded and numb at the same time.

I ran to him in the next room.

The look of our future on his face and in his eyes-the same expression he had as I walked down the aisle to meet him on our wedding day-will be tattooed in my memory forever.

I have been seeing our future in his eyes since we were 17 and today that indescribable knowing feeling came true, some 12 years later: he’s the father of my children.

Let the journey begin…


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