Maricar's Challenge
The day you found out you were pregnant... this is gonna be LONG.
I found out I was pregnant on my 24th birthday. Mike and I had been planning our wedding for about 6 months - I had my little wedding journal filled out, we were looking at invitations, we had just put the deposit down on the reception hall, and I had been trying on dresses for months. I had finally picked out this gorgeous corset bodice couture gown (I have pictures of me trying this dress on - it was unbelievably beautiful), and we were in the midst of trying to decide if we wanted to buy a new car or my wedding dress (did I mention it was expensive?).
Time had come and gone for my period to arrive, but I've had ovarian cysts and other problems most of my life, so I was unconcerned when it didn't show up. In fact, my doctor had been telling me for almost 6 years that I would be unable to conceive without fertility treatments - pregnancy never even occurred to me.
My grandmother called early in the week and asked if Mike and I would go with her and church to see "The Passion of the Christ." We met the church group that afternoon (my birthday) in Lee's Summit after working my 10-hour overnight shift. I was in a grumpy mood, but decided I'd be fine to see the movie.
I hated that movie. I hated every second of it. I consider myself to be a good Catholic girl, but what really spoke to me in that movie (and it was strange for this time in my life) was watching Mary as her son was beaten, tortured and eventually killed. I left the theater in an extremely foul mood.
My grandmother made a nasty comment to me on my way out (I have no idea now what it was), and I snapped back in front of the entire church group that I was tired of her crap - she was a bitter, thoughtless woman who didn't care about anyone but herself. (No, dear blog readers, I have NEVER spoken to my grandmother like this in my life - not before that day, or ever since)
I left the theater MORTIFIED with myself, and told Mike that it was time for me to go to the doctor. Sometimes this happened when I was stressed or overworked or something, and he would put me on medication to straighten it out. But, I told him, the first thing he would ask when I made the appointment would be, "Did you take a pregnancy test? Just a precaution, Sara.." So I sent Mike off to get a pregnancy test, and I went to bed.
He woke me up at 11:00 with a whispered, "Happy Birthday.. open your presents!" My wonderful husband (fiance, at the time) had gotten me a beautiful Celtic trinity bracelet with garnets in the center of all of the trinity symbols. There were roses beside the bed. Then he handed me a walnut box I had been drooling over at my favorite new age store for months - what a fantastic birthday!
I had to run - I tossed the pregnancy test in my purse on my way out the door. When I got to work, I asked to use the restroom before my supervisor left.
The second line appeared IMMEDIATELY - almost instantly. It was almost comical - I couldn't comprehend what was happening. Pregnant? I must be reading it wrong. I re-read the directions. Nope, two lines meant pregnant. Pregnant? Something's wrong. I can't be pregnant.
I carefully put the cap on the end of the stick and rinsed it off in the sink. When I returned to the office, I handed the stick to my supervisor and was surprised to hear my voice shaking when I said, "Doug, could you look at this? I think I must be reading it wrong."
When he realized what was happening, he made me sit down and told me I for sure wasn't reading it wrong. I was pregnant.
Talk about a whirlwind of thoughts.. wedding.. priest.. beautiful couture dress.. and then there were those other ones - adoption.. run far, far away.. Mexico is nice this time of the millennium..
The phone rang - Oh God, it's Mike. Tell him I'm on break, tell him I died, tell him I freaked out and went to Mexico again.. I don't care. I can't talk to him.
Finally, at 3am, I called him and told him. We were having a baby. Five weeks pregnant, and we had our entire lives to re-plan - no wedding, it was the same week as the due date. No beautiful dress.. I had to have one hand-made (it ended up being better, though - seriously). No more office.. it's going to be a nursery now.
We worked it out. We had a beautiful morning wedding with brunch instead of dancing late into the night. We stayed in a fabulous loft at Historic Suites in the Rivermarket instead of going to Jamaica. I wore a lovely ivory eyelet-lace wedding dress instead of my beautiful couture lace-up bodice gown. We had dinner with friends at Hereford House on our wedding night instead of on the beach by candlelight.
And nine months later, we had a beautiful baby boy named Zion. It was worth every change of plan, every sacrifice, and every panic attack I had that year. *He* was (and is) worth every bit.
I found out I was pregnant on my 24th birthday. Mike and I had been planning our wedding for about 6 months - I had my little wedding journal filled out, we were looking at invitations, we had just put the deposit down on the reception hall, and I had been trying on dresses for months. I had finally picked out this gorgeous corset bodice couture gown (I have pictures of me trying this dress on - it was unbelievably beautiful), and we were in the midst of trying to decide if we wanted to buy a new car or my wedding dress (did I mention it was expensive?).
Time had come and gone for my period to arrive, but I've had ovarian cysts and other problems most of my life, so I was unconcerned when it didn't show up. In fact, my doctor had been telling me for almost 6 years that I would be unable to conceive without fertility treatments - pregnancy never even occurred to me.
My grandmother called early in the week and asked if Mike and I would go with her and church to see "The Passion of the Christ." We met the church group that afternoon (my birthday) in Lee's Summit after working my 10-hour overnight shift. I was in a grumpy mood, but decided I'd be fine to see the movie.
I hated that movie. I hated every second of it. I consider myself to be a good Catholic girl, but what really spoke to me in that movie (and it was strange for this time in my life) was watching Mary as her son was beaten, tortured and eventually killed. I left the theater in an extremely foul mood.
My grandmother made a nasty comment to me on my way out (I have no idea now what it was), and I snapped back in front of the entire church group that I was tired of her crap - she was a bitter, thoughtless woman who didn't care about anyone but herself. (No, dear blog readers, I have NEVER spoken to my grandmother like this in my life - not before that day, or ever since)
I left the theater MORTIFIED with myself, and told Mike that it was time for me to go to the doctor. Sometimes this happened when I was stressed or overworked or something, and he would put me on medication to straighten it out. But, I told him, the first thing he would ask when I made the appointment would be, "Did you take a pregnancy test? Just a precaution, Sara.." So I sent Mike off to get a pregnancy test, and I went to bed.
He woke me up at 11:00 with a whispered, "Happy Birthday.. open your presents!" My wonderful husband (fiance, at the time) had gotten me a beautiful Celtic trinity bracelet with garnets in the center of all of the trinity symbols. There were roses beside the bed. Then he handed me a walnut box I had been drooling over at my favorite new age store for months - what a fantastic birthday!
I had to run - I tossed the pregnancy test in my purse on my way out the door. When I got to work, I asked to use the restroom before my supervisor left.
The second line appeared IMMEDIATELY - almost instantly. It was almost comical - I couldn't comprehend what was happening. Pregnant? I must be reading it wrong. I re-read the directions. Nope, two lines meant pregnant. Pregnant? Something's wrong. I can't be pregnant.
I carefully put the cap on the end of the stick and rinsed it off in the sink. When I returned to the office, I handed the stick to my supervisor and was surprised to hear my voice shaking when I said, "Doug, could you look at this? I think I must be reading it wrong."
When he realized what was happening, he made me sit down and told me I for sure wasn't reading it wrong. I was pregnant.
Talk about a whirlwind of thoughts.. wedding.. priest.. beautiful couture dress.. and then there were those other ones - adoption.. run far, far away.. Mexico is nice this time of the millennium..
The phone rang - Oh God, it's Mike. Tell him I'm on break, tell him I died, tell him I freaked out and went to Mexico again.. I don't care. I can't talk to him.
Finally, at 3am, I called him and told him. We were having a baby. Five weeks pregnant, and we had our entire lives to re-plan - no wedding, it was the same week as the due date. No beautiful dress.. I had to have one hand-made (it ended up being better, though - seriously). No more office.. it's going to be a nursery now.
We worked it out. We had a beautiful morning wedding with brunch instead of dancing late into the night. We stayed in a fabulous loft at Historic Suites in the Rivermarket instead of going to Jamaica. I wore a lovely ivory eyelet-lace wedding dress instead of my beautiful couture lace-up bodice gown. We had dinner with friends at Hereford House on our wedding night instead of on the beach by candlelight.
And nine months later, we had a beautiful baby boy named Zion. It was worth every change of plan, every sacrifice, and every panic attack I had that year. *He* was (and is) worth every bit.
posted by SevenHappyScrappers at 2:06 AM
2 comments
