“I’ve panicked. I’ve cried. I’ve laughed. I’m shocked. I’m confused. I’m scared. This was not planned. We were at the stage where the plan was to get some things in order… and then make a plan.”
It’s the morning of Wednesday, February 6, just two days after I made my appointment to meet a new lady doctor, and my period is now three days late. I’ve been late before – it’s not the craziest thing to happen – but this time I’m feeling anxious because of all the conversations we’d been having about the prep work that needed to be done before considering getting pregnant again.
As my husband gets ready to leave for work, I joke about taking a pregnancy test, because it still seemed so impossible that I might actually be pregnant. He tells me not to take one without him there, but when he leaves, I check the expiration dates on the two pregnancy tests I’ve had stored in the drawer upstairs for two years now. Expired.
I’m looking up online what an expired pregnancy test can do for me.
The internet is telling me that the results from my expired pregnancy test will most likely be negative, whether it should be or not.
Test #1 – positive.
Test #2 – positive.
Mandi – panicking.
I text my husband to let him know my daughter and I are going to head to the store to pick up some pregnancy tests… just in case. He encourages me to wait, and just take the ones we have at home before buying more. I then inform him, via text, “I did. They’re positive.”
Mandi – crying.
I’m a planner. Something this huge, catching me off guard, really takes my mojo out of me. So to keep from being a complete basket case while taking care of my daughter, I keep us busy with errands all day. We end our busy day at my former doctor’s office, requesting them to send all of my records to the new doctor I’ve not yet met – the one who now holds the basket I’m putting all of my eggs into.
Mandi – laughing.
I’m shocked. I’m confused. I’m scared.
I guess it’s time for a new plan.
In the stats:
Gestational Age: 4 weeks, 1 day