There was a time when two pink lines on a pregnancy test would have me instantly jumping for joy followed by a quick run through the house clutching my stomach singing “I’m pregnant, I’m pregnant” to anyone who could hear me - usually the dog. Over the last year my outlook on positive pregnancy tests has changed drastically. You see, I have no problem getting pregnant. It happens so easily actually it almost seems unfair. My struggle is sustaining a pregnancy. I lose them so quickly, had I waited (in the past) to test until I missed my period, there’s a good chance I wouldn’t have even known I was pregnant.



That’s how many pregnancies we’ve lost before my period was even due over the last 10 months. Turns out I’m an early ovulater. So I can test earlier than most and get a faint, but clear, positive around 3 weeks pregnant. In hindsight it was beneficial for me. The earlier I know I’m pregnant the sooner we can do blood draws and start necessary medication.


That’s how many pregnancies we’ve lost after 4 weeks, but before 5 weeks. We hadn't made it past the 5 week mark. We hadn’t even reached the point of seeing a gestational sac on an ultrasound. My body was terminating the pregnancies so early I didn’t have a chance to even process that I was in fact pregnant. So a positive pregnancy test didn’t mean much promise to me. I think it also made it hard for me to truly grieve. To grasp what was happening. I mean I was pregnant, but it was taken away so fast that it just never felt real. No one enjoys the early symptoms that come along with pregnancy, but I actually prayed for nausea, bloating, exhaustion, anything that made me feel like it was a normal pregnancy. None of it ever came. My heart broke a little more each time. I finally started to come to terms with our infertility struggle and accepted that this was our new norm. A hard pill to swallow I might add, after having two very healthy normal pregnancies and deliveries.

Then there it was…

Stop. Rewind to June 22.

Awkwardly pees in a cup (although I’ve actually got quite good at this).

Carefully dips test into said cup.

1 Mississippi, 2 Mississippi, 3 Mississippi, 4 Mississippi, 5 Mississippi

Taps foot, closes one eye, takes a giant deep breath waiting for the pink line to slowly creep across the test screen.


…the line. It was there. BARELY, but there. I was early. Super early. Too early for a line. It was probably an evap. Had to be an evap. I snapped a picture and sent it to my closest friends with the best line eyes in the business, seriously they should get paid. They saw the line. It was real, but I should probably test again tomorrow just to be sure. Another line. A little darker this time.. This is good. This is what you want. This should give me hope. I wish it gave me more hope.

So here I was again. Pregnant, but for how long? What a horrible mindset to have I know, but it was my reality. Then the obsessive compulsive testing began. Every night and every morning. I probably spent $100 that week on pregnancy tests. Even though I had the blood work done and I knew I was pregnant. I knew my numbers were going up. I still tested. I couldn’t stop.


Then it hit me like a rock hard slap in the face.

Nausea. Then the dysgeusia. Oh the dysgeusia. Any and everything tasted terrible. The mere thought of drinking a cup of coffee made me gag. Then the bloating and the exhaustion. I was so very very tired, and not normal toddler mom tired. I was falling asleep sitting up at 3 in the afternoon. All normal things. All things that I never thought would happen again, they were happening.

My dr scheduled to see me for an ultrasound the exact day I was 5 weeks along. I’m not sure what in God’s name made me schedule the appointment for 6pm that day, but I did. I spent the entire day fusing around the house like a lunatic unable to sit down, focus, or even think straight. My mind was consumed with thoughts of what the ultrasound might or might not show. I’ve been here before. I’ve gone in at 5 weeks on the dot to be greeted with an empty screen with no gestational sac in sight and be told I’m losing another pregnancy. How do you move past that? How do you have hope? I promise you, it’s almost impossible, no matter how optimistic you are.


The earliest I’ve ever been for anything in my entire life.

Wait. Wait. Wait. Finally I’m called a back to just sit and wait some more. It’s like the universe was really wanting to drag this one out for me… Then a knock on the door. It was Heather, the ultrasound tech, we’ve become quite good friends at this point. I mean, when someone is getting up close and personal with your down under parts it’s hard not to feel some sort of bond. She’s also has been on this journey with me now since last November. She was the one who told me last time there was no gestational sac. She knew the nerves I had going into this.

“Undress from the waste down”.

Mmmk... Talk about vulnerability. “Okay, just a little pressure”… and here we go. She had the screen turned away from me - for my own “protection” I’m sure. I mean I didn’t know a thing about what to look for, but I know what a gestational sac does or doesn’t look.

We were silent while she looked everything over and checked my ovaries to make sure it wasn’t a possible tubal pregnancy. I said a prayer, but prepared myself for the worst. Then she said it:

“There’s the gestational sac. Right here…”

I see her flip the screen toward me out of the corner of my eye, but I couldn’t look. I buried my face in my hands and burst into tears. Now talk about vulnerablity... legs in stirrups laying on a table sobbing. I needed to pull it together. She gave me a minute and I looked over to see the perfectly normal healthy 5 week gestational sac. Holy crap. It was there. The tears started flowing again. She gave me a few more minutes, and then asked me if I wanted a picture. I wanted to shout “hell ya I do”. Quite frankly, I wanted to sit in that room for the next twelve weeks, in all its awkward uncomfortableness and just watch our little rainbow babe grow and grow and grow right on the screen.

…I settled for my picture.

That day we were pregnant. Today we are pregnant.

we are pregnant.

Today there’s a tiny little human in my belly. Today I am thankful for my nausea and my exhaustion. Today I will celebrate. I’ll be anxious and scared. I can’t even begin to describe how scared - every little cramp, tinge, or odd feeling in my belly sends me into a downward spiral of worry thinking about all the things that could be wrong. So yeah, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t scared, but I won't let the darkness, that has at times consumed me, shadow the light that we now get to celebrate. We haven’t been able to do that over the last year, but today we can.

So I’m sharing the very scary, but incredibly happy news, with you. Although it’s not exactly how I planned I would share the news of another pregnancy… I feel like we need to celebrate. We have prayed endlessly for a healthy pregnancy, this could be that pregnancy, and I don’t want to waste a single minute not celebrating it. Not to mention, I will take all the extra prayers, good vibes, and sticky baby dust that I can get. I believe in the power of prayer and I believe that leaning on your people, on your tribe, it makes life struggles a little bit easier.

So, today we are pregnant, and today we will celebrate. 🖤