Most girls know the thought processes that occur when you are a few days late. You have a mini conversation with yourself that goes a little like this:
“Holy shit, what if I’m pregnant?!”
“Nah, I bet as soon as I buy a test, Mother Nature will come calling.”
“Maybe I just need to have sex?”
That’s a conversation I’ve had several times, and almost every time I’ve worried for nothing. Almost.
In March however, I was five days late even though I’d ‘used’ my SO to encourage my period to start (TMI?). So I bought the cheapest pregnancy tests I could find (2 for £3 by a brand called Freedom, which is really the opposite of what a baby gives you, but anyway) and took them home.
When I had enough courage, and enough of a full bladder, I took a test. And yes, it was a positive.
I took the test into the kitchen to put on a flat surface and stare at it. I shouted for my SO to come in the kitchen. We both just kind of looked at it for what felt like a long, long time.
In a way, this was the start to our five stages of grief:
Firstly, we tried to reason with the test. It was a cheap as fuck test (2 for £3, did I mention that?!). Surely such a cheap test was more likely to show a false positive. I did the second test, confident it would come out negative and I would just have to go to the doctors to get a proper result.
The second test was positive too.
And yet, with two positives in my hand, I was still challenging the tests, trying to calm both myself and my SO by saying that I would book a doctor’s appointment and get a proper test done. Until then, we should try not to panic.
As soon as I got to my doctor’s appointment the next day, I told her I had taken two (cheap) pregnancy tests that had both come out positive. She told me there was pretty much no doubt I was pregnant, because cheaper tests are actually more sensitive to the pregnancy hormone – something that caused me a major WTF moment. How dare more expensive tests be less sensitive?! How does that make any sense?!
Okay so it wasn’t so much anger, more overwhelming stress. Once we got home from the doctors (I did actually request a third test at my GP, which guess what, was a positive), we sat on the sofa together in a state of shock. Some tears were shed. A lot of tears actually. Neither of us could believe it, nor believe that in our circumstances (we have no savings and only one part-time job between us, it’s been a rough year), this life-changing news had happened to us.
As poor and unprepared for this news as we were (and still are to some extent), we thought about our options. To be honest with you, abortion only crossed my mind for a brief moment – I’m not against abortion in any way, it’s just that for me personally, being in a loving relationship with the man I’m certain I will marry meant that I knew I would regret an abortion of our child. So that was quickly off the table for me, though we did have some discussions about how I was a little too hasty about deciding what to do.
Soon after the decision to keep the baby was made, I started to doubt everything about myself. I was too poor, my career was non-existent, I was still struggling with my mental health – how would I be able to raise a child properly?
I felt like my depression would spread to the baby somehow. My thoughts spiralled down into that deep black hole that is mental illness and I started to feel unsafe with myself. Those feelings only made me feel more guilty about the baby, and I felt like I needed some time away. So, I booked a trip to visit my mum and brothers for the Easter weekend (we’d already told our families about the pregnancy). To be honest, the trip was a mixture of good and bad, mostly bad because I came back feeling even more deflated than when I had left.
After some time to reflect and look after myself mentally, I’m almost in mummy-mode (I say ‘almost’ because even writing ‘mummy-mode’ sounds absolutely absurd to me). There is a part of me that already feels protective over this child, that is very curious about how the baby is developing (even though it is kinda gross), and that already thinks that the baby is a girl (perhaps ‘hopes’ is a better word).
We’ve created a plan of action to get a proper home for our new family unit, which thankfully, is actually coming to fruition.
Part of our plan of action is to move back down South. My SO has secured an awesome job down there, and it just makes sense to be closer to more of our family. Hopefully by July we will have found a new home for us and peanut (the baby). So until then, I’m kinda stuck waiting for the next chapter of our lives to begin.
At the moment I’m taking the pregnancy one day at a time, one wave of nausea at a time. I’m keeping the soft toy that my mum bought (an elephant that I chose) for the baby in our bed, so it has our smell (that will be comforting for the baby, I think). My belly has started to become rounder and a bit fuller-looking. My nails are growing at a ridiculously fast rate, and my nipples have probably doubled in size (my boobs are bigger too, BONUS).
I’m glad that the scan went well, that peanut is actually there and growing at a healthy rate. I’m super glad that I finally got to share the news with you lovely readers, and hope you stick around for the rest of this crazy pregnancy journey.