Husband and I got married in 2005, and I was 27. (Husband was 24, but what. Ever. Young whippersnapper.) Having properly done my reading, in a ticking-TICKING-biological clock kind of way, I hoped to have at least a year of married couple-ness with my husband and then be pregnant by the time I was 30. I knew how hard it could be to get pregnant, especially when one is coming off of the pill, and when one was not so much in their early 20s anymore.
We debated and debated about when I should go off the pill, and the decision was basically made for us when we discovered I would run out during our annual trip to my parents' cabin in the middle-of-literally-NOWHERE, NY. (Or as I like to refer to it, "sort of Southern Western New York". Surely it was fate (and not just poor planning on my part. No.) So as of the middle of July, 2007, I was officially Off The Pill. I was hoping to be pregnant by the time I turned 30, the following April.
For some reason, I was completely convinced that I was going to have a hard time conceiving, and that it would take forever, and there would be loooonnnggg months that ended with sadness. Added to this was the fact that, given where Husband and I were working at the time, I got home at 10:30 pm and Husband had to be at work at a godawful, like 5am or something. I would come cheerfully home from work and proceed to WAKE HUSBAND UP because it was time to make a baby.
It worked.
In October, for our two year wedding anniversary, we went to visit my parents in their winter home in North Carolina. We were attempting to save money for the somewhere-in-the-future baby, so going to a different state and having a nice (FREE!) place to stay while sightseeing was key. The first night we were there, I woke up in the middle of the night feeling like a.s.s. I immediately attributed it to all the lovely McDonald's etc. airport food we had consumed that day, and turned on the light to read until I felt better.
On a side note, if I wake up in the middle of the night feeling like a.s.s., I have to do the whole distracting myself thing, otherwise I just lie there and convince myself I feel worse and worse and what if I puke? I don't want to puke.... so being the huge dork I am, I just read until I forget about it/feel better/fall asleep reading and wake up with a drool-soaked book.
Anyway. So the next day we went to the zoo. Halfway through I was so tired I had to sit down, which isn't like me at all, and I dragged ass through the rest of the day. I could not figure out what was wrong with me. I'd brought pregnancy tests with me, because of COURSE I had to test every month regardless of how sure I was that I would get my period. The next morning my period was due, so I ran into the bathroom first thing when I woke up to pee on the stick, despite the fact that I KNEW it would take longer than a couple months to get pregnant.
Before I could even put the cap back on the pee-soaked stick, there they were. TWO. PINK. LINES. And immediately my hand started shaking because OMG, I wanted this more than anything but who knew it would happen so fast and I am knocked up and I am the only one in the whole world who knows it and GOOD LORD THERE IS A HUMAN BEING INSIDE OF ME. Husband was still completely unaware of the drama going down in my parents' guest bathroom, snuggled under the covers in bed. Until I staggered in, clutching the aforementioned pee-soaked stick in my quaking hand, yelling Husband's naaaaaammmmeeeee at him in the most drawn-out, terrified way possible. "I'm pregnant......"
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