Finding out you’re pregnant is a funny thing. Okay, not “ha ha” funny, but funny like, “Oh. My. God.” When I saw that second line pop up on the test it literally took my breath away. The feelings that followed were intense: I was shocked, excited, relieved, panicked, joyous, thankful, anxious, and most of all, scared out of my freaking mind. Oh, and those are all thoughts from someone who was actively trying, praying, and hoping to get pregnant for a good part of a year!

Eight months into our trying-to-conceive journey, I missed my period. My periods are like clockwork, so naturally, I took test after test after test (times 10), but they all came back negative. There wasn’t a single faint line in sight, and trust me, I squinted. One time I even made myself believe I saw a line—Mister Rabbit saw it too, just for the record. We were completely baffled. I always thought that a missed period = pregnant. That’s just all there was to it.

I saw a (male general practice) doctor who told me to just relax and that I’d either test positive eventually, or my period would show up. Gee…thanks, doc. I was so confused, but he chalked it up to just missing that period. He explained that there’s even something called an anovulatory cycle where women just don’t ovulate for one month and it’s totally normal. Normal, eh? Yeah, tell that to the woman who’s actively trying to have a baby and has had normal cycles up until that one, only to discover she’s NOT pregnant. I was an emotional ball of stress; not to mention, the anxiety brought on pregnancy symptoms: I was nauseous all the time and all I wanted to do was sleep.

FORTY-SIX days later, my period arrived in the form of light spotting. I was both relieved and disappointed.

Once my period arrived, I sort of put the whole “trying” to conceive thing on hold. My husband was deploying the next month and I really wanted to enjoy our last month together without getting all worked up over trying for a baby.

ADVERTISEMENT

According to a period app I used, my next period was supposed to arrive on an upcoming Friday. I decided that if it didn’t show up by Monday I’d look into having some hormone tests done to see what was going on with my body since my last cycle was so out of ordinary. Being regular then missing a cycle out of nowhere really threw me for a loop. Aunt Flo was a no-show on Friday, so on Saturday morning, when my period was still MIA, I decided to test…just for fun.

The directions for my test strip said to wait 5 minutes, but after I dipped it in the cup, a second line popped up within seconds. I literally stood there just staring at it. The house was completely silent—except for my husband snoring in the next room and the sound of my heart practically beating out of my chest.

What the what?!

I let the strip sit there for its allotted five minutes while I paced back and forth in the bathroom, basically repeating, “I’m pregnant? I’m pregnant!” to myself more times than I can remember.

I had so many cute and creative ways I wanted to tell my husband, but I threw them all out the window. Instead, I crawled back into bed, nudged him, and told him I peed on yet another stick and that he had to see something. I’ve never seen him wake up so fast! He rubbed his eyes, looked at the test, then back at me. That’s when he said what I had been saying to myself for the last several minutes: “We’re pregnant!” (I’ve heard someone women get annoyed with that phrase, but it didn’t bother me at all. Mister Rabbit was very much part of my pregnancy.)

Obviously, that one test wasn’t good enough. I took another of the same type and the second line popped up just as fast as the first test. Determined to get a second opinion, we quickly got dressed and walked to the local store where we picked up an Italian version of First Response. Since I didn’t need the bathroom right away we also bought a bottle of water and headed to the bar next door for a croissant and some coffee (don’t worry, I got decaf). After our impromptu breakfast, I went to pee on the more high-tech stick. Seconds later, the line popped up again. Holy cow!

Two (okay, three) tests still weren’t good enough. I convinced my husband to drive to base so we could get a super fancy digital test—the kind that literally spells it out for you. Thirty minutes later we were on our way back home with yet another test and another bottle of water. When we got back home I did my thing (peed on the stick) and waited for the test to do its thing. This one, since its all fancy schmancy, took a little more time. A little hourglass kept spinning around while we waited. And then, just like the others, it confirmed that I had a little bunny baking in my belly: “PREGNANT” popped up. Third time was a charm.

We spent the rest of that weekend freaking out and being an overly giddy couple that just found out their family was growing by two feet.

How did you find out? And more importantly, how many sticks did you pee on until you actually believed it?!