So, yes… big surprise. We were more than a little shocked. You see, we had been told a year ago by our RE (whom I really like very much), that we would be able to get pregnant on our own, and I quote, “WHEN DONKEYS FLY”. Not to share too much, but we both had a part in the infertility dance, and our doctor was fairly confident that it would take a miracle for us to even get pregnant without the most expensive of invasive interventions. Did I mention expensive? But, we could only do what we could do, so we proceeded to do two, obviously unsuccessful IUI’s. The first once was immediately devastating, because it is new, and you read all the statistics, and are just sure it’s gonna work. But, I bounced back fairly easily. The second one, while not so immediately devastating, was more of a stealth kick in the pants… it was more of a lingering sense of failure, and affected me a lot more as time went on. So, there we were, gathering our tattered emotions and finances together for one, last-ditch effort at an IUI before we had to either give it up or start contemplating selling organs on the black market. (I kid, I kid…) That was supposed to be February… yet, I procrastinated. I didn’t call my doctor. Then comes March, and I still procrastinate. Sugarbear is very frustrated at me by this point, because I am ruining the plan. For lots of reasons. I didn’t feel at peace about it, I was afraid of more failure, and selfishly, I resented the fact that I would spend days injecting myself with expensive hormones that make me a nightmare to live with, not to mention all the oh-so-fun sonograms, gallons of blood drawn, the procedure itself, and the progesterone-filled two-week wait, while my dear husbands contribution consisted of a ten minute, not totally miserable appointment. See, told you it was selfish. But mainly, I just wasn’t there in my heart or in my head. Then, along comes April. After being threatened with a very unhappy Sugarbear if I didn’t suck it up and make the appointment this time around, I talked myself into it. So, I called and let my Dr. know our plans, with instructions to call back on a certain day. I waited, I waited, and nothing. I try to talk myself out of the possibility of hope, because it just has to be a fluke, right? We’ve been told more than once that we would need major medical intervention for a chance to conceive, right? I joked to Sugarbear that I could be pregnant… he complimented me on my hopeful statement, as hope has not been my strong suite, while also reminding me that miracles do happen.
So, off Sugarbear goes on the men’s fishing retreat. I spend pretty much all day counting in my head and trying to not panic. Sugarbear is gone, so I reason that I could buy a pregnancy test, just to assure myself that it was indeed negative, and he would never know. So, I buy two. And a case of mangos… which should have clued me in, because why did I need a case of mangos? Anyways, I couldn’t wait until the next morning, and finally cave after dinner. That sucker turned up two blue lines in about 5 seconds.
I am in my bathroom, hyperventilating. And then I have to call my best friend, because someone has to pinch me. The next morning, just for kicks, I take the second one, still expecting it to be a fluke. Again, 5 seconds, so positive it cannot be mistaken.
Then comes the fun part, telling Sugarbear. See, something had been bothering me tremendously before then. I was so incredibly sad that I wouldn’t be able to surprise my husband with a pregnancy announcement, even it was just a cliche` giftwrapped urine soaked stick. After all, during a treatment, everything is controlled so clinically, and Sugarbear is aware, down to the hour, of when I get test results. No fun there. But, as God had provided one miracle already that weekend, why not some extra, right? It was the one weekend that Sugarbear was going to be gone, it was his birthday weekend, and it just so happened to be THE weekend. So, not only did I get to surprise my dear hubby with a baby, I also got my cheesy reveal that I had been grieving the loss of. How did I tell Sugarbear about our little miracle? Well, I framed a picture of a flying donkey and wrapped it up, along with the positive tests, just for kicks.
It was an amazing day, although Sugarbear suspected something was up, as I was acting very suspiciously, insisting I video tape him opening a late birthday present. And his response, true to Sugarbear form, after opening the flying donkey, and discovering the tests… the very first thing out of his mouth… “Did you pee on these? That’s gross.”
I love my husband:-)
