At the Doctor's Office...

With tired eyes, I weaved in and out of morning traffic and checked in at the local clinic.

After filling out what seemed like 239084 pages of medical history, I was called from the lobby into a tiny, stark exam room.

"What brings you in today?" the nurse asked.

"I'm not feeling well. I'm so tired I can hardly function." I told her.

Based on my medical history and struggle with infertility, the first step--despite me explaining how unnecessary it was--was a pregnancy test.

I went into the bathroom, did my thing, and made my way back into that tiny, stark room.

There I sat, twiddling my thumbs on the exam table lined with crinkly paper.

Minutes later, over the intercom I heard:


The lady on the intercom repeated it at least five times.

I started sweating. Shaking.

A few choice words ran through my head.

Surely they can't be talking about me...RIGHT?


The doctor came in.

|Congratulations! You're pregnant!|

I wanted to grab her white jacket and stethoscope in utter disbelief.

Instead I sat there with tears welling up in my eyes.

"Are you sure? How sure are you? I mean...should I take another test?"

She smiled.

I cried.
Positive Pregnancy Test
Tears rolled down my cheeks in shock and disbelief at the thought of having three children under the age of three...

At the thought that for some reason, there was quite possibly a miracle growing inside of me--a woman once told she'd likely never be able to conceive a child...

I drove home, weeping. Told my husband we were gonna need to get a minivan. Called my sister and told her I wouldn't be drinking that bottle of wine with the girls that night (She responded with screaming. A few choice words. And lots more screaming.).

I prayed for this to not be a mistake.

When I got home, I sat down at the table; with a box of Kleenex by my side, I took a deep breath scheduled my first appointment.

It would be a long ten days of waiting before I would allow it to sink in.

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