Flashback to 2010: I stood in our bathroom, after peeing on a stick. I wait for the three minutes, which seems like years, to see how my future might (or might not) be changing. Two tests down, both negative. Life goes on, although Aunt Flo did not make her monthly visit.
When I felt that I was getting a UTI, I saw my primary care physician who told me that I was pregnant.
I had taken the two aforementioned tests at weeks six and seven of my first pregnancy. How the hell did the “early response” tests not pick up a BFP when I was already well on my way?
I figured it was user error, and vowed to buy digital tests the next time around.
November 2012: Aunt Flo is late, and being an elaborate basal body temperature (BBT) charter (fits well into my Type-A personality, which I embrace), I choose to take my first test on Thanksgiving morning (day 32 of my predictable 32-day cycle).
I was crushed. The next Saturday, I tested.
Wednesday, six days late.
I called my gynecologist that night and asked to have a blood test, convinced that my hormones were screwed up and I had an anovulatory cycle. I went in the next day, peed in a cup, and let the nurse pop two of my veins (ouch) to draw some blood.
My husband and I sat in the waiting room, and the nurse came out to give us the results of the pee test:
24-hours passed, and I felt as if I would never get pregnant, and my OB called. Without saying the results of the test, the nurse immediately went into her shpeel:
“Things look GREAT! Your Hcg is 55, and the progesterone levels are showing at around four weeks! CON-GRAT-ULATIONS!”
I nearly fell off of my sofa as I ran to my 20-month-old son to give him a kiss.
“You are going to be a BIG BROTHER!” I tell him. He smiles at me and replies, “baby”.
Yes, honey. Another baby is on the way. And I will never buy another home pregnancy test. Ever. I will listen to my body and schedule blood draws at my doctor’s office.
Needless to say, home pregnancy tests might work for 99.9% of women out there, but I am not one of them!!