I remember back in October 2016, Charles and I had discussed the possibility of getting pregnant and what would the plan be if that were to happen. Fortunately, I'd found a wonderful man that loved me and was willing to "man up" and take care of his responsibilities regardless of our relationship status. Now keep in mind we weren't exactly taking all of the precautions to ensure a child wasn't conceived, but at 33 years old and not having conceived previously in any other relationships, I was beginning to think perhaps I wasn't able to have children (I was absolutely wrong). But anyway, we talked about it and agreed that if it happened, then it was meant to happen and we'd raise the child together and have a family. If it didn't happen, then it wasn't meant to be. Either way the coin fell, we agreed that we were okay with the outcome.
Halloween came and went, and I started to feel sick shortly after. I thought it was the flu or something because it wasn't constant and it wasn't food poisoning. I had headaches, and dizzy spells, and every time I was around food I wanted to hurl. After talking with one of my co-workers that had a 2 year old, I was a little anxious so I stopped and got a box of home pregnancy tests on the way home from work. I was so scared and nervous to take the test, but I knew I had to. I had to know for sure if I was pregnant or just sick, because who wants to be sick during the holidays when there's so much good food to eat?! It was only the first week of November and Thanksgiving was two weeks away. I started thinking about how my life was going to change if the test was positive. I started thinking about how I would tell Charles, how we would tell our families. I started imagining sending out a holiday ecard with a picture of Charles and I on it and a caption that read "Happy holidays from the three of us. Baby Barber arriving Summer 2017!" I had basically convinced myself that it was positive before taking it, so when the time was up after peeing on that tiny life changing little stick and I only saw the one line indicating a negative, I was bummed. Actually, we were crushed. We had discussed having a baby, and all of the things we were looking forward to. Picking out a name and decorating the baby's room. Christmas with a baby, and how happy his mom would be to finally be a grandmother. I remember just standing in the bathroom holding the test in my hand and tears started welling up in my eyes. I buried my face in Charles' chest, wrapped my arms around his waist and cried. We were both devastated that it was negative. We didn't realize just how badly we wanted this until we didn't have it anymore. Charles has a way of knowing the right thing to say to me exactly when I need to hear it. And this moment was the perfect example.
"It's okay babe. We'll just keep trying."
So we continued on with our days but with a bit of disappointment hanging in the air for the first few days after the test. I continued to feel horrible and had concluded I had a flu type illness since the test was negative. Now, I am the type of lady that keeps pretty good track of my cycles and my "activities" so I knew when to expect my symptoms to begin. I knew that I was due exactly a week before Thanksgiving and fortunately I have a body that works like clockwork and I was always on time or within 24 hours of the day I was due. The closer it got to the day I was supposed to start, I'd had not a single symptom like I normally had. No PMS, no cramps, no cravings, no bloating, nothing. So when that Thursday came and was uneventful, I half figured it would come the next day and half thought "Holy shit, I'm late. Am I'm pregnant?" And then the wheels started turning in my head and I started panicking that I might be, but it hadn't even been two weeks since I'd taken the last test so how could it be possible that this one would be any different?! So I waited until Friday morning and first thing when I woke up around 6am and Charles was still at work for another two hours (he worked graveyards). I pulled that little stick out of the box and opened the wrapping and followed instructions. I remember thinking there was no way it was positive. That I couldn't believe I was doing this again. That I couldn't handle the disappointment again when it came back negative. That I wasn't even going to tell Charles I had taken another test because I didn't want to see the disappointment on his face again. But here I was, waiting for this stupid little stick to tell me "no" again. Anyone that's taken a pregnancy test knows the instructions. Step 1: unwrap. Step 2: pee on stick. Step 3: put cap on stick. Step 4: sit on counter and wait 5 minutes. And finally Step 5: either freak out or cry. Well, unlike the previous test, before I could get to Step 3 I saw the first and second little pink lines as clear as day. Before I even got the test on the counter to begin waiting, the test was positive. I honestly couldn't believe my eyes. My heart started racing, my hands were shaking, and I started tearing up.
Without thinking, I grabbed my phone and texted Charles and told him to come home immediately after work. He had planned to go to his mom's house that morning after he got off (remember graveyard shifts). He asked why and if I was okay, I said no and I just kept insisting that he come home immediately after work and not stop anywhere. He finally agreed. Needless to say when he ran in the door he was near panicked. I was laying in bed trying not to cry and told him to go look on the bathroom counter. He looked confused and I told him again to go look. He walked in and looked at the test sitting on counter, and it took a second for it to sink in but when it did his shoulders relaxed. I walked toward him and we just wrapped our arms around each other not knowing what to say. I cried of course, but I was going through a flood of emotions. I was happy, excited, nervous, anxious, and above all I was terrified. But after some reassurance from daddy-to-be, some of the terrifying feelings went away but not all of them.
That day I decided I wanted to get a jump on educating myself so I went to Barnes and Noble and got the stereotypical first-time mom reading material, "What to Expect When You're Expecting" by Heidi Murkoff. Honestly, I think I read maybe up until month 4 and then I stopped. Pretty much everything I was experiencing was what was being explained in the book so I figured I'd just read up on things I had questions on, or look to the book when I wasn't sure about something. Of course the next step was to tell my family, which began okay. My mom was more concerned with my health and finances than anything. I've had severe back problems for years that will eventually require surgery. And I had just started a new job three months prior to this. I was barely getting back on my feet. And then there was my never supportive older sister, who's response was a snarky "What did mom and dad say?" I should have known she wouldn't be the support system I was hoping for. And then there was my dad. My loving, protective, and now openly racist father who was happy enough for me until he learned the father wasn't white. Then of course his true colors came out. More details on that in a future post.
For whatever reason, Charles was terrified to tell his family. He was worried his mom would be disappointed or upset despite the fact that she'd been asking him for a grandchild for years. The next Thursday was Thanksgiving and we'd decided to tell his family then. they'd all be together and if his mom was upset, she'd unlikely cause a scene in front of the whole clan. We showed up, acted as normal as possible, ate, chatted, and enjoyed the holiday with family. It was about time to go home since we both had work that night, and we started for the door. He opened it and we walked outside. I looked at him and I believe my comment was "Chicken shit!" we had decided that we'd tell them tonight and he was trying to bail on that agreement! He finally caved and we walked back in the house, he said "I have an announcement!" and he essentially announced to the entire family (not just his parents) "Tara's pregnant!" Holy crap, if only I could have captured his mom's face on camera! Her jaw hit the floor and she just looked back and forth between the two of us. She couldn't believe it. Might I add that she'd asked him that very night while holding his cousin's 3 month old baby boy "When are you going to give me a grand baby?" And of course his youngest sister shouted with joy and disbelief and literally ran across the living room and hugged me so tight I couldn't breathe. His step-dad congratulated us. And the older of the two sisters immediately volunteered to babysit (which I'm sure she's going to regret one day). Everyone was so happy for us and the whole family, aunts uncles and cousins included, were smiling and congratulating us. At that point, I knew this baby was going to have an amazing family, and was going to be so loved and spoiled. Over the next couple of days the joy faded and was eventually replaced with sadness and disappointment in my own family. Why couldn't they be as happy and excited for us as his family was? Why couldn't they see the joy in my life and share in that? All they've ever told me my entire life was that they wanted me to be happy. Now that I was, they weren't. Even now ten months later, it still stings when I think about them not being involved and not being a part of my son's life. Everyone says "It's their loss!" when in fact it's not. It's my son's loss too. It's not fair that he won't have his grandparents in his life. It certainly doesn't bother him now seeing as he's barely able to hold his head up, but in the future I don't know how I'm going to explain to him why mommy's mom and dad aren't around.
We left my husband's aunt's house feeling relieved, excited and happy as we could possibly hope to be that night. A weight had been lifted off of our shoulders and we were ready to tackle the next 8 months head on with the support of his family. Good thing because their support is what got us through one hell of a birth.
Definitely a Thanksgiving we will never forget.
