The month I found out I was pregnant.
I actually had a suspicion in July that I was pregnant. I had thrown up before work one day, but was confused why I had that bout of nausea and passed it off as being sick.
I had managed to not get pregnant for a year, but I had this nagging feeling. I took a pregnancy test anyway. Two lines showed up, one practically invisible. I knew it was there. I panicked and threw it away. The next day I took another. One line. Or two? No, definitely one. Most definitely one. Tyler inspected it. We truly couldn’t decide.
Later that week, I took another. This time it was a digital test, because I didn’t want to keep guessing. POSITIVE. I was ELATED! And then terrified.
At this point, we were living with my parents, trying to get our feet on the ground and deciding apartment or buy a house. So, this wasn’t the most ideal situation for finding out that I was pregnant, because of the ever elusive question of “what the heck do we do next?!”. Nonetheless, we said we’d figure it out, and we’re excited that we could even conceive.
I had a visit with my primary physician, in which he ordered a blood test. My HCG levels were 262.7 mL. I remember getting the results, thinking about whether or not that was considered high or low, and not knowing how far along I actually was.
I was referred to an OBGYN, and instructed to follow up with them regarding further appointments. I remember calling, speaking to the lady and being asked all of the pre-registration questions: “When was your last menstrual period?”.. well.. I didn’t have one regularly, and well, hardly at all. “Do you know how far along you on?”.. yet again. No clue. They scheduled three appointments a couple weeks out. We were left hanging….
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