It was a Tuesday and I was feeling sick, that same feeling I get after I’ve been on a boat for a while.
A pack of pregnancy tests was set to arrive in my mailbox the next day, thanks to Amazon prime, but suddenly that seemed too far away. Could I wait 24 hours? I paced. I ate crackers. I drank juice. I paced some more. Finally, I called Brett.
“Can you pick up a pregnancy test on your way home from work?”
Accustomed to running occasional awkward errands for me, he willingly stopped by CVS on the way home because he’s a saint like that. Unlike the first time, there was no stalling that afternoon. There were no towels to fold. The second he got home, I grabbed the test and made a beeline for the bathroom.
“You’re going to take it now?!”
“Yes! The suspense is killing me!”
I was 99% sure I was pregnant, but I had taken a test the week before and it had been negative. I didn’t want to try again until I was sure.
A minute later I saw two lines, the same two lines I had seen when I first found out about Everett’s existence. It was both expected and unexpected, like the way a rainbow appears after a hard rain—a pleasant surprise and the mark of a promise, a sign of hope and good things to come. I carried the test out into the living room with a huge smile on my face.
“Two lines!”
Brett’s face said it all, really.
“WHAT?” he said incredulously.
He looked at it with me, in disbelief, before calmly suggesting I take another one. The box had two tests in it, one with lines and one with a yes/no. Brett never believes the first pregnancy test. Ever. He didn’t believe I was pregnant with Everett until our first ultrasound, despite the fact that we had already told a dozen people.
I took the second test, which revealed a prompt “yes”. I squealed. We hugged, both of us in slight shock. We told Everett he was going to be a big brother and he said, “choo choo?”
Sure kid, we can play choo choos.
I called my friend Christina, who had found out she was pregnant the week before. She screamed; I screamed back. It was all very surreal. We had joked about trying to get pregnant together but I never imagined our due dates would be nine days apart.
We made spinach tortellini for dinner, and prayed for the baby before we ate together at the kitchen table. We sat there, just the three of us, like any other Tuesday night. Sunlight poured in through the window, creating shadows of our three silhouettes on the wall.
Everything was the same.
And everything was different.
