The beginning of TWO: Pregnant again!

I've been meaning to start documenting this experience beyond posting a Facebook status and a picture of my peed-on tests, but, honestly, I've been kind of incredulous the whole time. I mean, it was quite a surprise! This is not the best time for us to have a baby, but it is definitely not the worst--John just started a new job, which is both exciting and a little scary and we just moved into a beautiful house that we can somehow magically afford each month without much help.

I don't need to document everything--you people will want to eat happily and even have good dreams sometime, so I'll spare you any conception details. But I just knew. Did you ever, um, well just know, way before you could ever take a test? I knew. And John laughed at me, a tad nervously and suspiciously, telling me I was crazy. And secretly having a twinkle in his eye, since getting pregnant was still something we'd planned on doing again after Jack.

So we waited. And while I wasn't against being pregnant, I was hoping that I wasn't. Because, you know, we weren't trying or anything. And I can (and do) logically talk myself out of getting pregnant because I need to work and sometimes the overwhelming desire to puke my guts out vetoes that need when I'm pregnant.

So Monday night (the 15th) as I crawl into bed I try to nonchalantly ask John something that can ONLY be "chalantly" asked:

"Babe, have I been extra bitchy lately?"

Because if I had been, then that would probably mean that I've got PMS and therefore not pregnant. I hadn't had my monthly tearful breakdown about something irrelevant and petty, so I was fearful of his reply.

"Um...why?"

"Just asking."

"Well, no, actually you've been really nice to me. Really nice. Like, I didn't want to mention it in case it would break the spell."

[Stunning revelation here about how crappy I treat my husband once a month. Sorry John.]

We sit in silence, side-by-side. John has his Tom Clancy book open but he's no longer reading. I'm mindlessly flipping through a Bed Bath & Beyond circular, barely looking at the pictures.

"Do you think you're pregnant?"

"I dunno. Maybe."

And if you have ever met John or spoken to him or even emailed him, you know that he is a man of action and not not NOT a man of waiting patiently for nature to reveal it's obvious answer. He got dressed and went to the store to get me a 3-pack of EPT, commanding me to drink water in his absence. (Yes I know you don't take tests two days before you're s'posed to start with practically no pee. There was no reasoning with him.)

After two glasses and one inefficient test later, nothing I could tell. There was a super, super faint line there, but what does that mean? Was the super faint line there before I took the test? Dammit. I couldn't remember. So we went to bed but John instructed me to take test #2 in the morning with "good pee."

Morning comes, have a "good pee," forgot to look for faint line before taking test because I was near comatose from getting like 4 hours of sleep. Still a super super faint line. I whispered "The test said no" as I kissed John goodbye and resolved not to take the last test til Sunday morning.
(I also want to remember later that when John woke up he didn't believe my answer, so dug through the bathroom trash to find the test to see for himself.)

Wednesday is s'posed to be D-Day. Nothing. Is my belly fat s'posed to be more...I don't know...fatty? It feels weird.
Thursday, nothing.
Friday, nothing.
Saturday morning I wake with lots of "good pee" and think, what the heck, I don't want to waste it, might as well test. So I do and the super super faint line is...much more distinct today. And all I can do is smile. My mind races, trying to think of the great idea I once concocted as to how to tell John about the second baby...it's gone forever. So, I just take the test, walk out to the garage and shove it in front of him while he works on target stands to shoot at.

*blink*
*blink*

"Really?!?!?!"

"I think so...go get me another test from a different company."

With lightning speed he hops in the car and shouts, "Call Jaimieeeeeeeee!" as he speeds away.
I tank up on more water.
With lightning speed he returns with one of those newfangled digital ones, which will clearly say "Pregnant" or "Not pregnant." Thank God--no more lines to interpret. Why haven't we been using these the whole time?

I try to feign extreme interest in the instruction pamphlet while I wait FOR-EV-ER for the stupid thing to spit out one word. I read for an extra minute just to give it some space.

"Pregnant."

And there was much rejoicing.