Pins and Needles

This morning, after a sleepless night (and two weeks of nonstop anxiety and obsession), I walked, still symptomless, into the infertility clinic for my pregnancy test, my sense of impending doom growing with every step. I dreaded the day ahead, the call, the tears.

My name was called by the one medical assistant in the practice who can never, ever find my veins, which only darkened my mood. She asked me if I felt any symptoms. Not a one, I said. No sore boobs? she asked (really). Nope. This is just a guess, but maybe if she spent more energy focused on my veins and less trying to "diagnose" me, she may not have had to do what she did next: use my hand. If you've never had this experience, don't start anytime soon. Because let me tell you something about the top of your hand: It doesn't like to be stuck with needles. It hurts. Also, it's gross. It may have been the only time I've ever felt lightheaded about giving blood.

By the time I got back to my car, I was a sobbing mess. My blood -- the answer -- had been left behind and all I could do now was drive away and wait. The stinging in my hand felt like insult on injury and I decided, right there, that if there was ever a day to work from home this was it. Crying hysterically at work may not be career suicide but it sure doesn't help anything.

I settled into my spot on the couch and tried to remain calm. My husband, home waiting to go to his late-morning doctor's appointment, was in full keep-her-happy mode, making me a snack and doing pretty much anything I asked him to. He was sitting with me on the couch when the phone rang, much earlier than I'd expected. As my hands trembled and my mind braced for the bad news I thought I'd hear, I answered it -- and instead heard three words that I truly thought would never, ever be used in reference to me: Congratulations. You're pregnant.

Some (not nearly all) of the shock has worn off. I am now a whirlwind of conflicting emotion. There are many, many steps in front of us, I know. Many miles to go before we sleep. And yet, there is this victory. After a year of gut-wrenching, mind-spinning, heartbreaking effort with little to cheer us on, no incremental wins, just the head-down, blinders-on quest for a positive pregnancy test, we finally got one. I'm going to sit here for a minute and soak it in. And thank those reading this for every one of your words of encouragement, which mean more than you know.