Not to have the baby, of course; but time to share the news of our growing little one.
As we drove home from celebrating our four year anniversary in Monterrey last week, we stopped by my grandmother's house in Vallejo. Just a few days short of her birthday, my husband thought this would be the perfect time to tell her of our tiny little miracle. But as we sat in her living room talking about our trip, upcoming plans, and how thin she thought I was looking despite my fluctuating eight to ten pound weight gain for reasons unbeknownst to her, I couldn't bring myself to do it.
I could feel my husbands eyes boring holes through my side profile as he made small comments to open up the conversation to the direction he thought it was supposed to be heading, but I simply brushed them off and eventually shot him the look.
Less than an hour later, we were saying our goodbyes and packing back into the car. Once again, I could feel my husband giving me the silent stare down, but before I could explain my erratic behaviour and change of plans to him, I tried desperately to figure out for myself why I was so scared to tell my grandparents.
Why I was suddenly terrified for someone to know the truth at just ten weeks.
It didn't take long for me to assess the situation once I really became honest with myself. This pregnancy is something I've wanted, something I've craved desperately for the last almost four years. I've dreamed of the day when I could admire positive pregnancy test, share the news in some creative way with my husband, watch the weight on the scale go up and blissfully enjoy every single minute of pregnancy.
But even though I've been extremely blessed beyond words to get to this point, it's been anything but what I pictured in my head. With a starting beta of eleven at a day short of four weeks pregnant, there wasn't much celebration; there was fear and waiting. Then with a following beta of what we were told was negative, there was sadness and loss, followed by a corrected mistake of another low but rising beta, and so on.
Since day one of this pregnancy, I've been living with fear.
With infertility, I'd developed a peace between God and I that allowed me to somewhat outrun my fears. If I could pray harder, eat healthier, work out more, take my vitamins and stick with my fool proof schedule to meet all of my goals, then I was on the right track, and I could run fast enough to keep a safe distance away from the fear of failure and the possibility of broken dreams. I mastered focusing on the positive, and enjoying the journey that I just knew would lead me to my miracle someday.
I spent years fighting for a dream, then God answered our prayers and made it come true.
But now what?
Infertility and pregnancy are two different worlds, and I wasn't prepared for this. This is a whole new fear, and I just don't understand enough yet to run fast enough. And because I can't outrun it, I'm still too scared to share the news.
Feeling the slight nausea midday, watching my chest continue to grow at lightning speed and staring at old ultrasound pictures from weeks ago just wasn't cutting it anymore. I had no idea if the life inside of me was still growing, I couldn't hear the heart beating and I had no proof. I just couldn't bare to share the news until I knew that everything was still perfect.
Then yesterday, our dear friends sent us a gift in the mail that changed everything.
Even though I was only a day short of eleven weeks, we found the heartbeat right away. Even if I never had another sonogram or ultrasound for the rest of the pregnancy, I'd be fine as long as I could hear that second heart beating through that speaker.
My other heart.
It's amazing how something as small as a rented Doppler could ease my fears in an instant. Suddenly the spotting, the lack of symptoms and my obsessive compulsive fears washed far away at the strong, constant whoosh, whoosh, whoosh blaring through the tiny machine.
Tonight, we are going to dinner at my in law's house and my husband insists on sharing the news with his immediate family. And although I would still like to wait until the first trimester is complete, I just don't think I'm capable of bottling his excitement any longer, especially after our encounter at Costco last night.
As I headed back to the cart holding our box of spiced lentils that tasted like chili but really are way better for you, I looked back to see my husband having a second sample and sharing a moment with with elderly lady back at the sample station that provided us with our lentil goodness. He was leaning in and whispering something to her, and she turned, smiled softly and gave a little wave.
As he danced back to the cart looking like the brawny man with his scruffy facial hair and dirty construction worker clothes on, he was smiling like a little boy on Christmas morning after having just shared our secret with a complete stranger.
But that's what I get for holding him back.
So tonight, I let him loose. We made giant cookies and wrote every one's names in pink and blue icing, labeling them as Aunt, Uncle, Grandma and Grandpa, and after tonight's dinner we'll reveal our surprise secret in a group setting for the first time.
Then come Sunday, we'll set together with my immediate family and watch the CD of our family pictures together on the big screen, where my brother, sister and their families will see the added pictures of my husband and I holding our pregnancy test for the world to see.
We'll share the news with everyone else after we enter the second trimester, if I can get my husband to stop telling strangers at Costco in the meantime, that is.
It's still scary. I just heard that priceless sound last night, but I'm already craving more as I sit here at work and wonder if it's still beating away while I leak dark brown bodily fluid from my girl parts. But I have to trust that God knows what's best for me, and He'll watch over and care for us just as He always has as I continue to pray away my fears and we begin to share our blessing with family and friends.
Ready or not.
"Miracles come in moments. Be ready and willing."