Five months ago, I wrote a post about infertility. I had no idea what the next month and a half would bring. I felt the pain of having seen so many months go by, negative tests and dark red pain. I question God, I questioned if there was a God, I questioned what I had done wrong. I didn’t hear any answers, I only heard my tears reverberated back to me from the echoing ceiling.
I had many breakthroughs with dealing with my past after that post. It felt like that post was one of the things that had to break out in the open for me to be able to move on. It was something I had to write, as it was the last step to processing and accepting the pain. I knelt in that pain and let it fill me until there was no more room and then I shook it off. It was like shaking off a mantel of darkness only to watch it turn into beams of scattered light.
I didn’t think much about those little hands calling to me after I had written that post. There was a part of me that had settled and was ready to put in a lot more time to push through those days of negative tests and the disappointment.
Until September 30th, when I found out Baby Royer was on the way. My entire life shifted that day. It’s hard to explain, but my entire perspective on who I am, what my body is, and where I am going drastically shifted. That slightly un-flat belly was suddenly no longer an eye sore to me, there is a baby growing behind it now.
I think my body told me I was pregnant before I even knew it because I woke up the morning of September 30th feeling sick, my back was spasming out, and all I could think was of how nauseated I felt. The only thought on my mind besides the three hour long severely painful ordeal was if this was what morning sickness was going to be like, oh boy. I sent Phil out the door to work, electing to go back to bed instead of driving him to the metro. Not even ten minutes after he had left, I had a sudden urge to take a test. I knew Aunt Flo was due the next day, but eh, what the heck I’ll decided to go take a test. So I took a test, then walked out of the bathroom before looking at the test. I couldn’t stand looking at another negative test. I went back to bed. But, I couldn’t not look. I walked back into the bathroom, fighting a headache and a pounding heart, took one look at the test then ran to turn the lights on full strength. No, my eyes didn’t deceive me, after over a year and a half of trying to get pregnant, I finally had a positive test.
I quickly grabbed my phone, took a picture, then sent a frantic text to a friend asking, begging her, to confirm that I wasn’t going crazy. She and the second friend I sent a text to both confirmed the test was indeed positive. I was in complete shock. I simply couldn’t believe it. I sincerely believe there had been a part of me that had truly given up.
I couldn’t wait till Phil got home and when I told him the news he was shocked but incredibly excited. Because I had only minimal tests at home, we went out that night to get some more sophisticated tests. I took them the next morning and there was no wait for the instant positives. I was definitely pregnant.
Those first two weeks, weeks 4-6 went by really slowly. But then I hit 6 weeks and the nausea hit full force. I never actually threw up, but there were definitely times I stood in the middle of the living room wondering if going back to bed would be best or if I should head to the bathroom. 8.5 weeks came and 9 weeks hit and the nausea disappeared.
I’m 14 weeks now and still have trouble believing I’m pregnant. There are times when I am extremely excited and eager to find out the gender of our little peanut, and other times, honestly, I’m scared. It’s insanely weird to watch your body change so quickly and to know I have 5 more months of this. It’s mind blowing to think there is a human being growing inside of me. But it’s also exciting, it’s nervously exciting to think of how much Phil’s and my lives are changing. I can feel the redemption in this as I see having my own child as a huge part of healing from my past. I feel the part of me that has been broken as a daughter healing as I become a mother. I see this as a chance to replace the broken memories with ones of healing. It’s beautiful and even though my body doth protest as it changes and shifts, I am aware of how rightly timed this is.