the faintest line

I take a pregnancy test yesterday and it is negative. I am not surprised. It is still early. Taking an early test does two things for me. It helps me accept that this might not be the month for me and softens the blow of the expected arrival of Aunt Flow. It also allows me to remain somewhat hopeful.

But I really don’t think I am pregnant and I make peace with my fate. I accept that God is giving us more time. I do not try to bargain. I do not beg. Instead I think of all the things my husband and I can do together as newlyweds. I call him and tell him I’m ok with not being pregnant this month. And I actually mean it. I go to bed feeling blessed.

I wake up at 5:30am and take my temperature as usual. The number looking back at me from my thermometer shakes me awake. It is way high. This can only mean one thing! I am completely surprised by this -- enough so to run to the bathroom and test again immediately.

At first it looks like another negative. But then I rub my eyes and examine it more closely. Is that a second line? It is the faintest thing I have ever seen, but I think there is actually something there! My husband is still away so it’s just me in my pajamas standing under the bathroom light completely freaking out. Are my eyes playing tricks on me? Am I hallucinating? I pull yesterday’s test out of the trash and compare the two. This one definitely has something that the other one doesn’t! I don’t believe it!!

I call my husband on my way to work. It is still early and he is just waking up. He sounds groggy. But happy. Very happy. I am unsure, though, so he is unsure. But we are both excited and hopeful for what lies ahead.

I look at the road in front of me and the sky up above, and I thank God. I am surrounded by a sunrise so beautiful I want to cry. The clouds are thick and puffy and the pinkest of pink. Behind them is a sky I haven’t seen so blue since the day I said I do. The world is covered in pink and blue. I feels like it's made just for me.

I want this moment. I want to keep it. I say good-bye to my husband and tell him I love him. I turn my car around and speed home to get my camera. I add twelve minutes to my commute but I don’t care. The colors are fading fast. I snap this picture right outside our house and only catch the very end of it. Within minutes it's over. The pink turns to white and the blue fades to gray. It looks like an ordinary day.

Only I know it isn't. And that moment is mine to keep.

I pray this baby is ours to keep too.