We had gone camping for several days at the lake at the very beginning of the month and my period had been late, but I didn't think much of it. Having suffered with PCOS (Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome) for over half my life that was the norm. However, for the past two years or so my periods had been quite regular, though an odd one here and there would remain in the mix.
I had started the Paleo diet and was feeling really great. During the camping trip at the beginning of the month I had more energy than I had felt in years! But for the past two weeks I had started to feel rather run-down. The weekend had left me feeling like I had the flu, but I knew it was more than that. My breasts were more sore than they had ever been in my life and I had almost constant panic attacks, a condition I thought I had control over. I spent the entire weekend in bed and by Sunday night, thanks to Dr. Google, I had convinced myself I had some terminal disease.
My husband Russell, who is an ER nurse, kept telling me I was pregnant. I laughed it off. I don't ovulate. I am 43 years old. We have been married for 13 days shy of 22 years. We did the fertility treatments early on in our marriage. We had 7 failed adoptions before finally adopting two older children from Eastern Europe in the mid 90's. One of those children now has children of his own. We are grandparents. We are empty-nesters. I am not pregnant.
We went to lunch at our favorite Mexican restaurant. I felt like I was suffocating. I was hot, claustrophobic. I needed air. We sat outside and I began to feel somewhat better though still a bit shaky with a sense of derealization, which are always the after-effects of a panic attack for me. The food tasted "off" and far too spicy. I didn't enjoy it.
After lunch we went to Bed Bath and Beyond for a pillow for my mom to give to her on her birthday. The fluorescent lights very nearly sent me into another state of panic, which again, is the norm for me when recovering from a bad spell of panic attacks. Dizzy and faint with a racing heart, I practically threw the pillow at Russell and ran out the door while he paid for it. I could barely breathe as we made our way to the car.
"Are you ready to get a pregnancy test?" Russell asked.
"I'm not pregnant."
We drove straight to CVS and bought the CVS brand of pregnancy tests. It was a 2-pack, on sale for half the price of the EPT. I stared at the box on the shelf. It seemed so harmless; just a little rectangular box wrapped in clear cellophane nestled side-by-side with other little rectangular boxes. I grabbed it off the shelf and tossed it into the basket with some other miscellaneous items. I was sweating, shaking, and was sure everyone in the store was staring at me as if I had a big neon "Old and Pregnant!" sign on my forehead.
A young twenty-ish male clerk rang up our purchases and tossed the box into the bag. I watched it disappear into the abyss of white plastic. Didn't he realize that box contained something that could change the rest of my life? He didn't give me or Russell so much as a glance as he handed my husband the receipt. I practically ran to the car, still shaking, and took several deep breaths.
Twenty minutes later I was sitting on the toilet, unwrapped white plastic stick in hand. "I can't do this," I told my husband, who stood in the doorway watching as our lives were about to change. Had I known this, I might have paid more attention to his expression. Was he excited? Nervous? "I need a cup. I'm going to drop it."
Russell went to the kitchen and got a coffee mug from the cabinet (I won't tell you which one in case you are ever at my house and are served coffee or tea). "A coffee mug?" I practically shrieked. "We drink from those!"
"What else did you want me to get?"
"I don't know; maybe something disposable?" I asked. My voice sounded odd, like I was hearing it from another room.
"We can wash it."
I peed in the cup, terrified I was going to drop it into the toilet, then carefully uncapped the plastic stick and placed it in the pee. We were supposed to wait 20 seconds for it to "cure" and show either a plus or minus sign. 1.2 seconds later a blue plus sign glared back at us from the tiny little window. I practically spilled pee all over the floor as my husband grabbed the cup from my hand, which had gone from a mere tremble to a violent shake. "Oh my God, Oh my God," I repeated over and over. And then, "Nooooooooooo," I wailed as I began to cry. I am ashamed to admit that my first reaction was not one of joy, or even astonishment, but one of pure terror. Did I want a baby? Did he? I'm too old for this! Our lives are good, great, in fact. We have freedom to do what we want - sleep in late, travel in the off season, curse. Was this some cruel joke after all these years? Why now???
Russell stood in the doorway grinning; I'm still not sure if it was from amusement at my reaction, happiness over that little blue plus sign, or if it was actually a wayward grimace. "I guess you'd better call your doctor," he said nonchalantly.
How can he be so calm?! I was an absolute mess. I paced around the house, my mind racing a mile a minute. He tried to comfort me, tell me everything was going to be okay. The only thing he convinced me of was that he was completely delusional. This was going to change our lives forever. This was not like adopting a puppy. This was a baby, and babies turn into teenagers and OhMyGod I was going to be 63 years old when this kid was 20!
Numbly, I went to my purse and got my appointment card for next year out of my wallet. It contained all of my doctor's contact information. I stared at her number for long moments before finally punching in the numbers on my phone. I would have to change doctors since my doctor only practices gynecology. To say I hate going to the doctor would be a vast understatement. It literally sends me into a tizzy, as my husband would say. Don't pregnant women have to go to the doctor a lot? I finally hit send and the phone rang several times as my heart pounded. When the receptionist answered I blurted out that I had just taken a pregnancy test and that I didn't know what I was supposed to do next. There was no real reaction, no shock on her part. She simply told me she'd have my doctor call me back.
Over an hour later I received a call back from the nurse. She asked when my last menstrual period was and told me she had already made an appointment for me to have an ultrasound the next morning, then I was to come to see my doctor, who happened to be right across the hall. This was moving all too fast! Didn't it take months to get an appointment? And why did I need an ultrasound so early? She said something about referring me to a high risk OB due to my age and asked if I had a preference for a male or female. Definitely female, and I want someone nice, someone who won't judge me for my weight or the fact that I'm too old to be birthing a baby. She promises she will find the perfect doctor.
Later that night I try to fall asleep, but sleep is far from my reach. I am terrified - not because I'm afraid they'll confirm I'm pregnant, but that they'll tell me I'm not.
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