About a month before we got pregnant, I told my husband that I had come to terms with the fact that we might never have children, and that, if we were to have children of our own, it would happen in its own time. We kept busy during that summer. I went on a trip to Las Vegas with a good friend, we went to a few concerts, took a spa vacation, and even ran a 5K/10K.
Running my very first 5K at 5 weeks pregnant, unknowingly :)
I had reached the point where I didn't want to take a pregnancy test after being a few days late for fear that I would find out that I was not pregnant, and the next day my monthly visitor would arrive. It had been six weeks since the last visit, the longest I had gone without one. My husband told me that maybe I should take a test.
It was a Saturday morning. I had to use the washroom at 6am, and they say that the first morning bathroom break is the best time to do a pregnancy test. I waited those two minutes, and started to cry -- out of happiness and excitement of course. I got back into bed and told my husband that we were going to have a baby. He was excited, but told me that maybe I should take another test -- just in case. It too was positive.
Well, we spent the entire day telling our family, and being congratulated -- this would be the first grandchild in both mine and my husband's families -- but I didn't post anything on Facebook. I remembered how hurt I was reading about everyone's pregnancies before I was pregnant, and I just didn't want to do that to anyone else.
Thus, my journey through pregnancy began -- my epic, uncomfortable, agonizing journey.
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