I came across this pregnancy test, and I looked at it again. And I realized, despite so many VIVID memories, the line on the test was PINK, and not blue. What else am I misremembering? What else is lost to the imperfection of the human mind?
Second blue line on the pregnancy test
When I pictured this moment during our pregnancy, I had all the typical first birthday dreams. I thought about outfits, and cute party hats, and an elephant cake you would smash more than eat. I thought about family, and packed photo books, and maybe a few presents. But mostly just love.
Statistics are funny. I wish someone would do a study on the chances for real, taking into account the multiple factors that contribute to fertility. I still don’t know if I’m an anomaly, or if I just got lucky. I don’t FEEL lucky. Getting pregnant is only part of the overall story.
I read these stupid memes and I want to say, “well of course my attitude must be influencing me,” but I know that can’t be true. Because there was never a moment when I didn’t feel full of love and want and excitement for you.
I loved you from the moment I saw that second blue line. I loved you from my first dream of you. I loved you for so much longer than you were actually alive–Before, and After, and all the spaces in between.
I remember the day I found out you were real. The breathless wait, that faint second line, the way my heart jumped into my throat and I gave a little scream. I was scared to believe you were true.
I see her on the other side of the glass, and my heart breaks for what we both have that the other needs.
The story of how I planned for conception and pregnancy as a single mother by choice (SMC), the process of becoming pregnant, and the sheer joy in looking forward to my son Adrian’s birth.
I don’t understand it, little one. I don’t understand how you could be here, and then not. I don’t understand how you’re still in my belly, but you’re already gone. I don’t understand how the world makes sense anymore. I never got to hold you, and I miss you so much. My heart is broken.
I remember the day I found out I was pregnant. I was packing a bag to go to the Magic Kingdom when I realized I was late. I was ecstatic; immediately excited; already looking forward to life with my child. His existence was the most beautiful gift. His absence is an ever-present pain.
She was probably the most innocent person in the room. And that’s funny, I guess, because she was so incredibly book smart.
I saw your heart beat today. The doctor called it a “fluttering.” It was tiny; the books say you’re only about the size of a pea, but you have already changed my world.