Sitting Around Waiting on Two Pink Lines

Who really ever knows what they are getting themselves into when they first see those two pink lines? I sure as hell didn’t.



The first time I got a positive pregnancy test I was terribly excited as you’d expect one to be and I was quick to share my news. I all but took out an ad in the LA Times to make the announcement. However, my excitement quickly turned to horror when I discovered at my very first doctor’s appointment that I was going to miscarry. While I think most women rationally understand that a miscarriage is a possibility no one ever thinks it will ACTUALLY happen to them. I was devastated but was told that it was perfectly normal. Right, “perfectly normal” my ass. Perfectly horrible and gut wrenching was more appropriate. There is nothing worse than having to explain to all the well wishers who didn’t know the horrible news what happened or to tell your parents that they aren’t going to be grandparents anymore.


When the second test came back positive I was happy but hesitant. I was trying to keep a positive outlook and relax but was secretly terrified. We chose not to share the news at all this time. I honestly tried to forget I was pregnant just so I wouldn’t obsess over my insane fear. After our first and second appointments, I started to relax. Everything was looking good. And then appointment three rolled around and the sucker punch came flying in from somewhere in the back … another miscarriage. Again, devastation set in but then came alternating waves of fury and fear. Fury over how it was that every woman I seemed to pass on the street was pregnant but I wasn’t and fear that I wouldn’t be able to have children.


Luckily for me, my fertility issues were short lived and after one exploratory surgery my problem seemed to be fixed. Even so when the third pregnancy test came back positive, almost a full two years after our first miscarriage, my first reaction was still terror. I did not want to go through another miscarriage and I was sure that without a shadow of a doubt it was going to happen again. Fast forward to the present. I'm sitting here listening to my boy on the monitor as he sleeps peacefully in his room. My pregnancy was textbook. Unfortunately for me, I was what I would classify as “cautiously optimistic” through at least my second trimester and just couldn’t relax enough to fully experience the miracle that was happening to me.


I’d like to say that everything changed when my beautiful son made his way into the world but I can’t say that it has. Yes, I absolutely can (and do) enjoy the miracle who smiles up at me each morning when I greet him in his crib. Yes, I’m insanely happy when he snuggles his head against my shoulder or giggles and shrieks with delight at his daddy. It fills me with joy to see the look on my grandmother's face when she sees her great-grandson. I love him more than I ever thought possible but mixed in with that love also comes more terror. I’m terrified that something will happen to him or that I’ll somehow fail him. I'm terrified that he'll feel disconnected from his brother and sister because they are only with us part time. The list could go on ...


I thought I’d be giving up all that terror when he was born but realized that I just traded it in for a new and different kind of terror. The kind that will last the rest of my life. It was my first realization that I’m now officially a mommy. Actually, four months away from being a mommy a second time. I'm not sure how I'll manage a toddler, a newborn and my grandmother's needs as well as my step-kids, husbands and last but certainly not least, my own. It terrifies me but I pray that the Lord will give us guidance and am confident that He would never steer us in the wrong direction. So, this time, instead of focusing on the terror that will never go away I'm just trying to enjoy those "two pink lines."