The day I found out I was to be a Mother, December 11th, 2009, was also the day that my Stepfather was born. Admittedly the last thing on my mind was my Stepfather’s birthday. Instead, I was overwhelmed by shock and fear.
I woke up that winter morning, amused by the thought of taking a pregnancy test. This was not to be the first time I’d purchased an at home pregnancy test, but it was the first time I thought that there was a real need to take it.
For months, I and my Husband of nine years had toyed with the idea of having a child. For us, we’d move in and out of a fantasy of creating a child between us, much as we had the entire time we’d dated and been married.
I was twenty, and my Husband twenty-three, when we said our I Do’s, and while I wanted to dive feet first into having a child, he was more reluctant. We met in my home state of Washington, while he was stationed at the Fort Lewis Army base. When we married, we opted for housing outside of the base, and invited one of my younger brothers to live with us. His salary from the Army was not enough to support the three of us, so I obtained employment through a well known restaurant down the street from our apartment. Every couple of months, I would get what we called, “Baby Fever” and push for a child. Our families both advised us to wait, telling us to enjoy married life before bringing a baby into the picture.
Looking back, neither one of us were emotionally, or financially ready to bring a baby into the picture. Instead, we focused on hanging out with our military buddies, enjoying the young night scene, and indulging ourselves with shopping and leisure activities.
Fast forwarding to nine years later and we found ourselves trying to glue back the shreds of our marriage. Our marriage hadn’t been perfect from the beginning, but the ensuing years were one amusement park ride after another. We both had a difficult time adjusting to each other, me being the oldest child of a large family, and he being the “baby” of an “average” family. I am passionate, he is remote. We’re both affectionate, but he has a difficult time dealing with my range of emotions, while I have a difficult time dealing with his remote stance toward emotions. Heaped upon our underlying issues, we faced a year of separation while he was deployed to Afghanistan. Prior to his deployment, we moved out of our apartment, and into his parent’s house, with the goal of saving money to purchase a home of our own.
While I got along well with his parents, it was difficult and awkward to live with them without my Husband. A year of separation wreaked havoc on our marriage, and the following three years we remained living with his parents, a damper on ANYONE’S marriage, make you no mistake about that!
We found ourselves in the midst of our hurts, trying to heal, and musing over having a baby. I agonized over my suitability as a Mother, and whether or not it was acceptable for me to consider conceiving when our marriage was so patchy.
We made love, often without protection, and afterwards talked about whether or not that could have made a baby. We’d both look at each other, with doubt and apprehension, still not really believing there could be any real consequence, especially considering that we had not really been careful during our entire marriage, and I hadn’t conceived before.
I found myself waking up that December morning, dragging myself out of bed to get ready for work, and groggily tearing open the test, taking the test, and resting the test on the bathroom counter. I didn’t give it much thought as I stepped into the shower. As I soaped up and rinsed, I pondered over what the results would bring. Not wanting to believe that I could actually be pregnant after so many years, I forced myself to remain calm, to shower as normally as possible.
With the shower over, clutched the towel to my chest, and dripping wet, I took a deep breath, and peered at the results window.
The test was one of those digital types, encased in plastic, easy to use. I blinked.
With the test in my hand, I began to low moan, tears welled up in my eyes, and as the shock made my body tingle, I began to gasp for air.
Sucking in huge gulps of air, I stumbled from the bathroom, through the garage, to the bedroom me and my Husband shared in his parents house.
It was dark, it was empty.
I opened up the door, separating our room from the dining room, and the light of the computer monitor illuminated the dark of the house. My Husband was sitting at the computer, and I stood, towel clutched in my hand, droplets of water staining the floor, and continued to hyperventilate.
I heard the computer chair groan as my Husband turned. In his usual style, he grinned at me, and began to say something cheerful, till he saw me, heard me, and knew something was wrong.
I couldn’t say one word. I couldn’t even utter a syllable. I tried; nothing came out but harsh, gasping breaths. Shaking, I extended the hand that held the test, in the dark gloom of the room, my Husband couldn’t see. He took the test from me, peered at it and with the biggest smile on his face, looked up into mine, gasped with joy and then stabilized his reaction to comfort me.
He held me in his arms, whispering, “Its okay, it will be okay” as I sobbed into his shoulder.
“I-I-I did-didn’t thin-think it would be pos-positive.”
After consoling me, after I calmed down, we talked, I dressed, and I went to work.
The weather was gray, and it drizzled all day, and in my womb there was a baby, my baby.
Finally, a baby.
My body felt alive, from root to toe tips, more alive than it had felt in so very long. I was scared, I was thrilled, I was…filled with a hope so bright and wonderful that I could barely take it all in.
Four months later, I am a first time Mother to a beautiful little boy. The joy and adventure that has been my life since he was born is unmatched to anything else I’ve ever experienced in my life.
I am in love with him, and with being a Mother.
I went, and am going through a momamorphosis.