On Tuesday, December 14th, my family welcomed a new addition to the family. The cutest, sweetest baby boy- Rocco James Vickers. I was lucky enough to be there for the entire process. From induction, to the C-section decision, waiting for the surgery to be over and then FINALLY meeting him for the first time. It was the closest I’ve ever been to a live birth. It was truly a magical experience.

The first time I held him I just sobbed. I was overcome with emotion. He was so beautiful, so perfect. I loved him instantly. I had heard that when a mother meets her baby for the first time there is an instant connection, I never knew it was the same for an Auntie. Love at first sight does exist.

As all of my emotions poured out over this little newborn baby, my mom and sister said things to me like, “why are you crying so much? maybe you’re pregnant”. I guess it seemed a logical explanation for why I was being so “emotional”. I just laughed it off, knowing good and well that it wasn’t even a remote possibility. After my they continued to make additional comments over the following two days, I finally explained to them that it was impossible. “I just finished my period five days ago!”

But their words stuck with me.

On Thursday, December 16th, Brett and I arrived in Phoenix. We were exhausted from spending the previous days at the hospital and only became more exhausted as the week(s) went on. Between the holidays, sleeping on air mattresses, dealing with the stress being produced by our stay with his family and the time change, we (I) was a mess.

All of these factors manifested themselves into what felt like an emotional roller-coaster with the addition of constipation which in turn became bloating and nausea. This on top of those lingering words from my mom and sister…

On the 30th, I got a call from one of my good friends. She had just tested positive. I was so happy for her (I still am. I’m NEVER resentful of ANYONE who gets pregnant- I know how happy it would make me and I want that same happiness for everyone, especially the people I love). But I couldn’t help it, I hung up the phone and the tears came pouring out. It was a full-on melt down. Big heavy sobs.

My sweet husband, just rubbed my back, knowing there was nothing he could do to make it better. But this melt-down was intense. I couldn’t stop. I just cried and cried…”why am I crying so much?” The words of my mom and sister, haunting me…the weeks of constipation, bloating and nausea floating around in my mind.

I thought I was going to start my period that Wednesday, it was Thursday. I was one day late. Maybe it was an immaculate conception. Did I mention that we hadn’t even slept in the same bed since December 11th?

The next day was New Years. I knew I wanted to drink that night so Brett and I went to Walgreens Thursday night and bought a two pack of tests, just to be sure. I peed on the stick that morning and it was negative. Just like all the other dozens, if not hundreds of tests I had taken in the past. I wasn’t surprised. Not to sound like a martyr, but I’m used to it AND you have to have sex to make a baby, so, you know, there’s that.

Fast forward to Monday, still no period. I was now five days late. I called my doctor and asked if I should up my progesterone dosage and he said yes but I thought I’d test, just in case, before increasing to two capsules per day. Besides, I still had the second one left from the pack of two, might as well use it.

It was Monday afternoon, about 3pm. I knew it wasn’t my “first urine” but whatever, I was bored…or something. I had just taken a nap (remember that whole tired thing?) and I figured, “why not?” So I went to the bathroom, peed on the stick, set it down, went about my business, glancing down every couple of seconds. After about 15 seconds I saw what appeared to be a VERY faint line. I’m not going to lie… I whispered loudly, “holy fuck!” Never had I ever seen anything other than NOTHING.

I took it to Brett and I said, “don’t get excited, but I think I see a line”. I knew it was faint. I knew he would have a hard time seeing it, hell I could BARELY see it. I mean BARELY. When he didn’t see it, I decided I was probably imagining things. But I KNEW I had NEVER seen what I saw.

We just kind of laughed about it. I put it back in the wrapper, placed it in the trash and forgot about it…for a couple of hours anyway. But I couldn’t stand it. I just had to look one more time, in different light, like maybe outside.

I reached into the trash, pulled the stick out of the wrapper and there it was, a pretty defined, yet light blue plus sign. I showed it to Brett, he said, “yep, I see it”. We decided not to get excited. Even though I have told friends who have questioned their positive results, “there are not false positives”, I still couldn’t feel confident that is was happening to me. I knew the math, I was pretty sure I hadn’t ovulated and I certainly knew that there hadn’t been any baby dancing going on. The two major requirements for pregnancy.

BUT, there was a plus sign. There are no false positives…right?

Fortunately I didn’t allow myself to get excited. Well, not too excited. After all I wasn’t completely convinced. But of course my mind did wander a bit. I thought about how we were going to tell people– this is something I’ve fantasized about for as long as I can remember. I wondered what we’d do about fostering. I let myself feel like maybe just maybe it WAS happening to me. And it felt good.

However, it’s now Wednesday, two days later– still no period, but TWO new negative tests.

I hate to sound like I’m throwing myself a pity party, but it DID feel good, even if only for a very short while. I hope I get to see a REAL plus sign some time soon, but until then I will remember those 12 hours when I thought, maybe, just maybe it was happening to me, too.