One year ago this day, Mother’s Day, changed my life forever. After a lovely brunch by the water with my mom and a lengthy chat about life and fashion and family (you know, the important stuff), we got into our cars and drove away individually.
I had this nagging feeling all day long that I needed to take a pregnancy test. I ignored it for as long as I could, but on my way home I stopped at the dollar store and bought two of them anyway. Yes, I said the dollar store. Because at this point in our journey, one year in, I had grown tired of spending too much money on drugstore tests. Plus I had a digital one at home that I promised myself I wouldn’t use until I was sure this was it – just in case.
I got home, let Luther outside, put a few things away, read the instructions for the two tests and made my way upstairs. Alex was away that day so I was home alone and knew that if I got negative results again, I just wouldn’t tell him – as had been the case many many times before.
I didn’t even flinch. I just did my thing and lay the tests flat on the bathroom counter. I had done this so many times before already. I tried my hardest not to be hopeful, so I pretended, even to myself, that I didn’t care what the results were. As I washed my hands, I looked down and saw one test was already changing and two faint stripes were visible. Two. Do you know what two means? Two means positive! Little did I know at that point what two would REALLY mean! Ha!
I looked down again as nonchalantly as I could, still pretending I didn’t really care or see those two stripes. The second test had two stripes as well. I gasped and ran downstairs to grab the expensive test because surely these dollar store tests were just messing with me, right?
Now the digital test was there, also on the counter, laying flat with its smaller and cheaper colleagues who now clearly told me that my pee thinks I’m pregnant.
About 50 seconds into putting the stick down, the word – not WORDS, word – appeared on the teeny tiny screen: pregnant. Cue a scream followed by the ugly cry followed by jumping up and down alone in the bathroom with Luther barking at me.
So, how did the day end? Right, there’s more to this story. I now had to wait 5 looooooong hours for Alex to get home, so I put all 3 tests in a box that I pretended had been delivered for him (on a Sunday, I know…). It was the longest wait ever and I texted him to make sure he was coming home right after he was finished playing bass – something I never ever do! He showed up at around 9:45 with two blizzards in hand. Yep. He brought home my favourite thing in the world without even knowing what was going on. I let him know the box had arrived. I had carefully put all three tests facing up so of course he picked up the box and shook it before opening the thing. He sat down and looked carefully at what was inside, looked at me, said “what is this?” with a big smile on his face followed by a “seriously?” It was the perfect Alex reaction – almost a non reaction – and we hugged for a long time. It was amazing.
And I had absolutely no idea what that meant for my life just yet. I had no idea that after a year of waiting I was growing two perfect beings. I had no idea how hard it would all become and how beautiful it would be all at the same time. But I did know this: Mother’s Day had officially become my favourite day.
I’ll leave you with this totally naive exchange of text messages between Alex and I before we even knew we were having twins. (Note: that should have said “pooping” not “popping.”)