The last thing I thought I would see in the middle of a global pandemic was two lines on a pregnancy test. I shared countless memes about “quarantine babies,” but never thought I would be carrying one.
On June 18th, my roommate convinced me to take a test because my breasts felt like they were on fire for two days straight. I was expecting my period the following day, so it was hysterical that I was taking one in the first place. I always thought that if I was to get pregnant in the future that my reaction would be tears. Tears of fear or happiness. I laughed hard and long enough for my abs to burn, squinting to see if that second line was really there.
Immediately after realizing how real this is, I called my primary care doctor to get a test there to double-check. Before I could put my thoughts together, Isaiah had come home from work. We had plans for dinner at our favorite restaurant. It was hard to act like panic wasn’t setting in so I stayed quiet as I finished my makeup. I didn’t know how to tell him so I simply handed him the test- nothing fancy. Like most, he quickly asked if I was serious. My answer was met with silence. Over the course of the next two hours, the only words I heard were his order to the Red Robin waiter. We stopped at Target to get more tests and every single one read “positive.” We spent the rest of date night crying in bed and making a plan.
On July 16th, I saw my baby for the first time. There wasn’t much to look at besides a flickering shadow of his heart beating at 152bpm. They gave me my due date of Feburary 14th, 2021, Valentine’ Day.