I don’t lead a very exciting life. Really. It’s been work, run, and visit Kansas for most of the past two years. Now, I’m not complaining…following the stress and worry and around-the-clock busy-ness of graduate school, I more than happily embraced an existence marked by routine and predictability. It’s been a season of SAME, and I’ve enjoyed it.
Of course, because there is a time for everything, I probably should have guessed what was coming next. The whirlwinds of a season of CHANGE were just around the corner, getting ready to sweep away every last remnant of sameness and turn my life into a much more exciting — albeit stressful — adventure. And I have no one to blame but myself…and maybe Scott, a little bit. 🙂
It all began some time ago, when Husband and I had a heart-to-heart and realized that we were both thinking the same thing — it was time to go home. South Carolina has been great to us, but I always hoped that someday we would find our way back to Kansas permanently. As the years went by, missing out on all the small events our families were going through became more and more of a sacrifice. I didn’t know that Scott felt the same way, but after our talk we had agreed that he would pursue job opportunities in the Kansas City area. If anything came from the search, we’d up and move…but if not (because you could scarcely think of a worse time to be looking for a job), we’d continue on in our peaceful South Carolinian lives.
After months of searching, it began to seem like Option B was going to win out…when Scott got a phone interview. A week after that, he was flown to Kansas City for an in-person interview. A few days after that, he was offered a job. And a month after that, he was starting his new job. We felt ourselves caught up in the winds of change, but little did we know that what we had experienced so far was a light breeze compared to what was coming next.
Our unorthodox plan was for him to start work as soon as possible and for me to stay behind, help keep the house in good shape for showings, and finish up some projects at work. Off he went to Kansas, where he lived the nomadic life of crashing on the couches of various friends and relatives, while I stayed in South Carolina, working and cleaning and training for a pretend marathon. For him, all was chaos. For me, though, everything remained the same…except that Scott was gone, and I’d never felt so apart from him before. This whole plan was my idea, and it wasn’t very long before I began to think it was my worst yet.
And then, hurricane force winds of change knocked me on my butt. Days after Scott left, I found out…geez, this still seems too crazy to put into writing…ok, deep breath now…I found out that we were pregnant. PREGNANT. Good golly, Miss Molly. I don’t even really know why it came into my head to take a test. I was only a day or two late, but I figured I’d just take a test, see the negative, and go merrily along trying to plan a cross-country move and my future career path. These things are stressful enough without adding more uncertainty. So I bought a test, applied the sample to the stick, and waited for results I so blindly assumed I knew.
Those little tests say, “wait three minutes before reading the result.” This is because if you’re BARELY pregnant, it takes time for the result to show. It keeps people from freaking out over false negatives. It also lets Hollywood have those scenes in movies where an anxious couple stares at a watch and then argues over who will be the one to read the result. Classic. Of course, this doesn’t mean that you HAVE to wait that long. The more pregnant you are, the quicker the result will show. I set the test on the box it came in, washed my hands, and the couldn’t resist a glance down to check the progress.
HOLY CRAP, WHAT? POSITIVE? Oh, wait wait wait…I chuckle to myself. I had been distracted by the big plus sign on the photorealistic test pictured on the box. How silly. I pick the box up to take a closer look at the actual test…
HOLY CRAP, WHAT?!! I look. I look again. I close my eyes for a few seconds, but they open to the same result. Clear as day: +. It is then that I lose my mind a little bit.
- I think, maybe I read the test wrong. Yes, Megan. Because I’m sure that the pregnancy test would use a positive sign for a negative result. Hmm…well…when you put it that way…
- Maybe it’s a false positive. That’s possible, right? I ask Google. Google tells me that there are all kinds of chances for false NEGATIVE, but barring some kind of medicinal interference or a faulty test, positive means positive.
- So maybe the test was bad! Yesyes, that’s it. I take the other test…20 seconds later, that darn plus sign has a friend, and they’re both telling me to get a grip. And call my baby daddy.
- So I call my friend Becky, who has a baby. We haven’t spoken in months. She answers. Hey, Becky? Um…is there such a thing as a false positive on a pregnancy test? “Um, no. WOW, YOU’RE PREGNANT! THAT’S AWESOME! WOW, WHEN’S YOUR DUE DATE?”
Her excitement jars me out of the ever-increasing state of freak out. I think…wait, why am I freaking out? I’m happily married. We want to have kids. This is a GOOD thing. My brain goes into overdrive, and it’s a few minutes more before I finally call Scott. He’s at Sonic, and I feel kind of bad telling him he’s going to be a dad while at a fast food restaurant, but what else can I do? He’s staying with some friends of ours, and I know he’d rather I tell him while he’s alone. So, after discussing his day at work and a couple of other trifling items, I say…
“Hey, Husband? You know how you always say I like to make things super complicated?
“Wellllllll…it turns out that you’re going to be a daddy.” Silence. I wait in suspense, wondering what he’s thinking…
“Are you sure?”
“Well…as sure as two pee tests can make me.”
“Wow! This is incredible!” Awww…he’s excited. I find that fairly adorable, and the remaining remnant of freakout dissipates.
And that’s the story of how, a mere week ago, I found myself driving halfway across the country with two unhappy cats in tow and “morning” sickness as my constant companion. Husband and I have been reunited, which is definitely how things should be. I’m still working on adapting to all of the change — new city, new home, new job, AND new baby…all at once? It’s a LOT to get used to. Let the season of change* begin!
* From a practical, blogging standpoint…I feel like I should note that my move means that I am no longer a member of the Greenville Track Club. If you’re visiting this site looking for Gville running information, there are plenty of older posts that should be able to help you out. It also means that the “only blog about running/fitness” rule no longer applies, so it’s very likely that there will be posts about LilRunr and how I’m coping with pregnancy. Male readers — I apologize.