Reading MammyWoo's hilarious tale of 'How it all began' earlier, and almost waking The Boy up as I shook with laughter, has prompted me to share my own 'finding out I was pregnant' story.
Early in the September term in 2008 on a Friday afternoon, my friend asked me if (quite frankly) my boobs were still sore. I replied that they were but that it was probably PMT. She asked me if I was still late, I replied that it was September in school, of course I was. She looked me in the eye and said very seriously, "Chick, I really think you need to do a pregnancy test when you get home!" In that moment, it actually clicked in my head but I truly didn't think that I was pregnant.
I rushed over to Boots (not my local branch, too many people know me) and stood gawping at the selection in front of me. I mean, for God's sake, how many different ways are there of peeing on a stick and telling someone if they're pregnant or not? I picked up the own-brand one because they seemed middle of the road in price (the first step in spending thousands of pounds on your child).
I got home and discovered that I didn't need the loo. I drank three glasses of water. I did starjumps in the kitchen. I drank another glass of water. I did squats. Then I rushed upstairs, read the instructions which said some nonsense about waiting 'til morning, and squeezed some out. It really didn't occur to me to wait for my husband because I wasn't pregnant and I didn't want to get his hopes up. Placing the stick carefully on the side of the bath without shaking it (why do they waive it around on television? It says to hold it steady!), I waited.
I knelt down on the bathroom floor in front of the bath and waited.
I am rubbish at waiting.
I watched the first mark came through (I actually can't remember if it's supposed to be a cross or a line) and my heart sank as the second mark started to come through; it was just a line. Up until that point I really hadn't even entertained the idea that I could be pregnant, but now it's all I wanted. The tears started to flow…
… and then: a CROSS! It was faint as hell, but it was a cross!
I'm not entirely sure I breathed for a few minutes, I just knelt there rocking backwards and forwards staring increduously at this rapidly darkening mark.
I bet you can guess what I did next. Yep, the second test in the box.
I wee-ed on it wrongly. For the love of God, I completely and utterly missed! They need to make these things bigger and longer so you don't end up weeing all over your hands.
Then I did quite possibly the most stupid thing ever; I phoned my husband who was driving home from work. The conversation went exactly like this (it's imprinted in both our memories):
Me: Can you call into Boots on the way home and pick up a twin-pack of Clear Blue digital pregnancy tests please?
Me: Because I wee-ed wrongly on the second one and it didn't work.
Him: What about the first one?
Me: Oh yes, that one was positive!
Him: <silence, then> I'll be home as soon as I can!!!
Yes I know: he was driving, he could have had a crash. When he did get in, he raced up the stairs where I was still sat looking at the first test.
The third stick provided us with another positive conclusion: I'm rubbish at aiming when I wee!
The fourth stick was dipped into a pot that I'd decided to use instead (pregnant!)
Both the fifth and sixth sticks (he'd been despatched for more) came up with that oh so familiar affirmation: you are 2-3 weeks pregnant! The feeling is one that I have never come close to before or since: your life has just changed (for the better) forever.
We spent the entire weekend wanting to tell everyone (we're both rubbish at keeping secrets) and not telling anyone. However when I walked into the school grounds on Monday morning and saw my friend crossing between the two buildings I called to get her attention. She took one look at me and squealed with delight. She also completely roared with laughter that I'd done six tests.
Well come on, be honest: how many did you do?