My Journey to the Mommy Club: The Best Laid Plans

I open my eyeholes and look at the clock expecting it to be 6:00 am. 2:17am. “UGH. Time, you are a dummy.” I roll over and will myself back to sleep. I wake up again, surely it’s time. 3:23 am, I lay there willing myself to go back to sleep. The nurse’s instructions replay in my head. “Take a morning pregnancy test. If it’s negative, stop all meds and wait for your period. If it’s positive, call us and we will schedule the blood test and run it stat.”

“3:23 am is almost 6:00 am” I hear myself justify in my brain.

“No. Go back to sleep, Dollface.”

I lay there. 3:27 am. And I kind of have to pee.

Now here’s the thing, if you even remotely know me, you know that I will take something and dissect it seven ways ’till Sunday. You need something overthought, I am your girl. I can take the most mundane topic and create greatness (or havoc). That mole hill, I will gladly, given the time to ruminate, create a mountain. This is a good and bad trait… Depends on which side of the conversation you are on.

So there I lay, in my head reciting “I’ve got to pee” in my most epic Forrest Gump voice. (No idea what I am talking about, click here. You’re welcome, BTDubs.) “If I pee now, it can throw the test off when I get up in less than 3 hours. If I don’t, surely I will die.” (I am nothing, if not slightly dramatic at 3:30 am.) I throw off the covers and get up. Open the box, open the test, pee on the stick and wait. I sit there and watch it. This test is a blue color and I hear myself whisper the name for our first son that we have long since picked out. Our kids will have the awesomest names. I wait for what feels like an eternity. “Super weird, the line isn’t showing up.” Anxiety pricks my skin and my breath quickens. “Nope, not going there” I tell myself. I get on my knees in the middle of the night, in our Master bathroom and I begin to pray.

“Hey God, soooo super weird that the test isn’t positive yet because I mean I have had every jacked up emotion and symptom under the sun. I’ve puked twice this week at random, I threw out a piece of pizza because one bite made me gag, God. Most days I am so tired that I could sleep on demand. And God, my acne which I have NEVER had resembles that of a 15 year old adolescent boy. I mean, yeah, it could definitely be all the hormones, and even the flu but, I mean, it could also be babies. God you have to help me here.”

I realize that I am attempting to talk God into my plan and plead my case. It’s been 5 minutes. The test says wait 2-10. This isn’t my first rodeo. I take a deep breath and exhale on my way up. I pick up the test and I look at it.

Negative.

I stand there for a moment waiting for the emotion to come. There is none. There are no tears, there is no anger, nothing. I stand there holding the test waiting for something. I lean against the door frame that separates the sink and shower from the toilet and I search my brain. Nothing. My ego is silent, my heart is silent, my emotions are silent. It feels like the moment at the end of the Sopranos when the screen goes black and there is nothing.

I walk towards the counter and I can feel the cold tile on my feet turn into the plush carpet that is in front of the sinks. I stand at the counter and put the test down and for the first time look up at my reflection in the mirror. Oversized tee hanging off one shoulder, my hair a mix of Don King and Frankenstein, I meet my eyes in my reflection and then I see it.

Complete and utter despair.

And then I lose it.

I feel myself grip the test and chuck it as hard as I can across the bathroom. It hits the wall and shatters. Plastic pieces flying everywhere. I turn back to the mirror and look at my reflection, “How am I going to tell my Husband it failed?” I FAILED. My body failed him, AGAIN. A man I have been to Hell and back with. A man who has been in the worst car accident of his life this week. A man who has been a steadfast, unwavering, Champion over our household. I failed him. The tears begin and before I know it I am dry-heaving over the toilet. Dry-heaving for the pills, for the endless injections, for the tests, for the procedures, for the timing, for the thoughts that are all consuming at every hour of the day and night, for the emotions, for the humiliation, for the stress, for the pleading with God that it’s time. I sit back against the wall, a mess and exhausted.

I don’t know how long I was there but at some point I decided I needed something to drink. I pull myself together and head down to the kitchen. I can’t go back to sleep. I go sit by Hubbz who is miraculously still asleep. I touch his arm and he wakes up. I am crying. “Honey the test didn’t work.” He looks at me super confused and I realize I am not making sense. “I couldn’t sleep so I took the test. We’re not pregnant. I am so sorry. I failed you and I am so sorry.” And I lose it all over again. He says not a word and he wraps me in his strong embrace. There is NOTHING better on this planet than the embrace of that man. He promises me we will call the doctor in the morning. I shake my head and recite the instructions verbatim:

“Take a morning pregnancy test. If it’s negative, stop all meds and wait for your period. If it’s positive, call us and we will schedule the blood test and run it stat.”

I lay in bed and I cry. I am the girl who doesn’t fail. I have never failed at anything I have set out to accomplish. Yet, this is perhaps the most crushing defeat I have ever endured. Month after month for 19 months.

I think about the bible study I am entrenched in.

Exodus.

This is my Exodus.

…And I pray,

“God, I hurt and my soul aches. I thank you for this journey because I know it is serving a purpose. You are the God of Sarah and Abraham. You are the God of Rebekah. You are the God of Elizabeth. You are the God of Mary. You are the God of keeping promises. You are the God that lead the Israelites out of bondage and slavery in Egypt. You are the God of miracles. You are the God who parted the Red Sea. You are the God of provision. You are the God who made it rain manna and quail from the sky. You are the God of Revelations, who will wipe away every tear from my eyes and take away all death and sorrow and crying and pain. You are God and I certainly am not. I come before you and my soul feels defeated. Jesus came so we could have life and live it in abundance. Today I need you God. I hurt down to the gut my soul. And I need you like I need air to breath. The pain in unbearable. The emotions are more than anything I can handle. This cycle held so much promise and now it’s over. God there are no words and my heart is inconsolable. I need you.”