Two Pink Lines

We found out that I was pregnant on a Sunday evening.

I took the test almost to prove Ian wrong, that there was no way I could be pregnant. I wasn’t even totally sure whether I was expecting my period yet or not, although I’d had a sustained increase in my basal body temperature for enough days that it was certainly possible. We spent the weekend at Ian’s parents. I thought they’d suspect when I wasn’t drinking – having just a few small sips of champagne at his dad’s birthday meal. But I didn’t want questions. I didn’t want to feel under pressure, because I probably wasn’t pregnant.

Ian seemed increasingly convinced that I could be. That I was.

We arrived home on Sunday afternoon, and I nipped straight out to Boots to buy a First Response test. I bought a two pack, thinking that it was bound to be negative, but a two pack worked out cheaper per test than a single, and then I’d have another test for another cycle. I debated waiting until the following morning, because the concentration of the pregnancy hormone would be greater in first morning urine and so the chances of an early positive result are increased. But in the end I wanted to prove things one way or another, at least for that moment in time. So I peed on the stick.

Does a watched pregnancy test develop?

I don’t know, but I couldn’t bear to stand in the bathroom anxiously watching my pee creep across the test window, searching for signs of the lines that would seal the result. So I popped the cap on, stuck on the windowsill and Ian and I both went in to the bedroom to wait the requisite three minutes. I’d always imagined that Ian would be with me whenever we got a positive pregnancy result. I didn’t want to test and him not be there, to find out the result at the same time as me. We made the baby together, so I wanted us to find out about it together.

For those three minutes, I was pacing around saying “It’ll be negative. There’s no way it’ll be positive.”

“But it could be” Ian would interject. The shaking his head agree that no, it wasn’t going to be, but at least we’d know.

I watched the numbers on the bedside clock. It was 5.47 when we could go and check.

I raced down the hall, beating Ian back to the bathroom, still chanting that it would be negative.

“There’s only going to be one line…” I seized the little plastic stick from the windowsill

Ian was right behind me saying “Yeah… there’ll just be one line…”

“…. But there’s two….” I interrupted. ” Oh my God… there’s two lines… it’s positive.” I remember thrusting the test at Ian. The huge grin on his face.

The memory is a little hazy from here. I remember Ian grabbing me in a hug. We both jumped up and down a little. We raced downstairs and I bounced around the room.

There were two, strong, pink lines on the test. I was definitely pregnant. Not just a little bit pregnant. But properly pregnant.

Of course, I still didn’t totally believe it. And two more tests – different brands – followed over the next 24 hours. By which time even I had to admit that it was pretty conclusive.

It was really on… there was a baby cooking away in there.




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