Four weeks and one day pregnant

I am pregnant.

For a long time, I’ve wanted to say that. It’s hard to pinpoint the moment when I decided that I really wanted – needed – to become a mother. It was a more gradual thing, perhaps begun when my only two remaining (close) girlfriends both conceived, or when dozens of random acquaintances on Facebook began posting their belly bumps and smiling babies’ faces. I think it was more internal, though. Physically, emotionally, spiritually... I acknowledged that I was ready.

I am due April 28, 2010. And I can’t tell anyone yet.

That’s not entirely true – of course, I told my husband, who is still holding out for more proof than a pee stick and a late period. And I sent a picture of said pee stick to one of those close girlfriends (she’s a nurse) to get a second opinion (are there really two lines?). The nurse confirmed.

Other than that, I somehow have to contain the biggest news of my life. And here I am telling the world via blog (oops). I’m a secret-keeping failure.

But I’ve waited so long for this moment! There was the interminable time that I craved this and had the guilt-inducing task of convincing my husband it was a good idea. Then, when he caved and I shamelessly became sex-craved, came the realization that trying to conceive does not instantly equal conception.

Life-altering miracles take time, it would seem. Until I began trying to conceive, I didn’t know just how long and painful six months could be. (There are many couples out there that have been trying to conceive much, much longer than we have, and I do not want to belittle your pain. You have my deepest sympathy and I hope that you will be as lucky as I.)

To be technical, it was longer than six months before I finally saw the second pink line on the pregnancy test, albeit faint. This was due to some abnormally long cycles, featuring what I feared were abnormally short luteal phases (the time between ovulation and the next cycle). Did I have a defect? Were my hormones imbalanced? Was my husband infertile? Can I save money by buying pregnancy tests by the dozen?

Yes, the obsession began long before this happy day.

But there is a new kind of obsession now, full of the fears of miscarriage, faulty pregnancy tests (could all six of them be part of the same bad batch?), birth defects, and generally being unprepared for the changes ahead.

I shake my head to clear out the crazy. Today, I am pregnant.

Before now, I don’t think I ever smiled for four days straight. The secret is practically written on my face. Does everyone know?

Well, I guess they do now.

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