Unexpected...to us...

...I laugh as he stares at me with all the stoic seriousness he’s rather infamous for, but this is even a new level of stoic for Aaron. Like, I’m actually scared. When Aaron Schroeder tells you to take a pregnancy test, and to do it now, that’s exactly what you do. Period.

So I head up to our bathroom. I had a few tests left over from last January when Aaron unexpectedly returned from deployment 5 months early, and, well, his return wasn’t in my planner, on my calendar, or lining up with my immediate reality. So alternative preventative measures THAT time were shown to be quite effective. I checked out the expiration date, it had expired 4 months earlier. But it was all I had, & I wasn’t about to go back down to dictator Schroeder without an answer, or at the very least, without a peed-on test. No sir.

So I take it, in complete disbelief of what I’m actually doing. I KNOW I literally shook my head in denial of the whole situation and said to myself, “This is so crazy, cray-zeeeee! there is no way you are pregnant! You’ll show him the negative test in a few minutes, & you’ll laugh together about the ridiculousness of him being the one, for once, to jump to conclusions instead of being logical.”

The test is ready, & I look. Very, very, very faded double line. I dive for the instructions that were thrown on the bed a few minutes ago. Fact: Reading pregnancy test instructions beforehand may save you incredulous amounts of anxiety after looking at a possible double line on an expired pregnancy test.

It says any hint of a double line is indicative of pregnancy. However, is that still valid after knowing the test is expired? And, might I add, the test also says for most accurate results, test the first urine of the morning? Well, I’m sorry, EPT, it is inching toward noon, and this is far from my first pee of the day. I claim unreliable results. Error proof indeed. Pfft.

Aaron asks about the verdict, I say the jury is still out & explain why. He says he has to get to school, but orders me to go to Walgreens (sidenote: he doesn’t give me orders unless his paternity is on the line) & get a non-expired test. There’s that scary stoic Schroeder again! Oy, the nightmares. I agree to go.

Walgreens is the place to go if you want to get something you need. Or to get a whole lot of junk you don’t need at all in an attempt to conceal getting what you actually need. My checkout basket contained the following: Whoppers, razer blades, box of hair dye (because there was NO WAY I was really preggers), thinking-of-you card for...somebody, although I wasn’t sure who yet, I’m sure someone would pop into my mind at some point and I’d be thinking about them & musing, “boy, if only I had a thinking-of-you-card to send them”, & plus, looking at cards is such a great time killer-maybe I’d even forget what I’d come to Walgreens to get in the first place, no-show socks for work shoes, mascara, and a Snickers for Aaron. Oh yeah, and a home pregnancy test.

Arrive back home, take the non-expired test, read the instructions and wait. This one shows two double lines, a bit more solid than the last test. But its still not the first pee of the day! In my twisted mind, this could still mean margin for a false positive. I don’t care if the test says false positives are not possible. I’ll wait until the morning and take another. This pregnancy test business was not in my planner, on my calendar, or within my immediate reality.

Morning arrives, and I take yet another test. These two lines are undeniably bold, and I’m not registering the reality of this still. I guzzle a ton of water, eat breakfast, shower, & take the last test in the box. Two more lines. 4 tests in all, all indicative of pregnancy, all taken by the queen-of denial. I prepare to tell Aaron the news he’s already assumed for the last 24 hours. He handles it very well, and by well, I mean he nods and says ok, but doesn’t vomit or faint, or transform into the Incredible Hulk.

I give him a kiss & head off to work. I know we will discuss it that night. At work, I don’t even think about my life-changing news that took place earlier that morning on my toilet. I dive into paperwork and sessions with patients, and speech/language goals & objectives. This is the routine I know and am comfortable with. This is an environment that remains untouched by the events of the morning. My life is familiar here in THIS place. I’m SAFE in this place, because I don’t have to think about anything beyond the last patient of the day. I’ve never related MORE to my kiddos with Autism than I have through this experience. I’ve discovered such a genuine appreciation for possible ways in which they see and react to the world.

Work ends. At home Aaron & I begin our first of many discussions about what those four sticks hanging out in the bathroom will mean for us in the future. A “surprise” pregnancy brings about many emotions. Especially when a certain stoic personality doesn’t enjoy surprises, and a different personality only enjoys surprises if they come in the form of chocolate or clothes or books-the kind that don’t require a planner, calendar, or that could altar an immediate reality.

Well, the ultimate result of all of these discussions was the acceptance of this life-changing surprise. It was not an immediate acceptance, on either of our parts, but a gradual one. At the first OB appointment, 8 weeks along, I heard the baby’s heartbeat & really connected that this was not just any surprise. This was a gift, from our God. He chose this gift-this child- for us, or maybe God chose us for this child. We have no idea why. We weren’t planning on children, at least not in the foreseeable future. So many of our beloved friends and relatives have struggled with their dreams of becoming parents, and have desperately sought out all options, at all costs to achieve what came to us so unexpectedly. Unexpected to us, but a perfect plan in the eyes of God. This surprise will be the best of any we’ve ever had, if for no other reason than because its God’s way. “For I know the plans I have for you,” says the Lord. “They are plans for good and not for disaster, to give you a future and a hope.” Jeremiah 29:11

8 Weeks

13 weeks

20 Weeks

Life, As We Knew It

Hi, my name is Amber and I’m a workaholic. Ok, ok, ok not reeeeeally. But, the last few months have taught me how very much I actually enjoy having, no make that, desire having (?), no, that’s not covering it either, lets go with physically, emotionally, & mentally NEED TO HAVE-a job, a routine, a paycheck, a life outside of my livingroom tv & couch. I have encompassed a whole new level of lazy that I’m ashamed to publicly announce, but I’ll get into that later. Ultimately, up until 4 days ago, I genuinely believed (and was desperately counting on the fact) that August would finally bring an end to my housewife days. Oh how very, very wrong was I.

Now, where should I begin my crazy whirlwind tale? Well, I’m sorry if you don’t have all day for a 9 month detailed history, but I clearly do. Oh relax, I'll break it up into segments. Afterall, a girl's gotta eat. So let’s start at the beginning...

Early January 2011. At the gym before work. I can not finish my warm up weights without needing to pause between reps and take a break. I check and recheck the weight to be sure I didn’t pick up a heavier set than I meant to. Verdict? I must be regressing, because this is my typical warm-up weight set. I decide I need to eat more protein.

Later that week, increase in protein has done nothing for me. Well it probably has, but not anything that can be useful during my weenie 10 lb warm up set. I decide to forgo resistance training for a while, and work on my cardio. Hello treadmill. I hate you, but I woke up early & already had my pre-workout shake. I’m here, you"re here, lets do this. I step on, waiting to find my stride which usually kicks in at about 1/2 mile. 1/2 mile comes and goes-strideless & I’m cramping already, 3/4 mile passes by with me huffing & puffing as if I’ve just run a 5k. I get to a the mile marker, and slow to a brisk walk, wheezing like an asthmatic Floridian grandmother. What. Is. Happening. I call it a day, get in my car, start to head home & totally break down. Bawling. Where has all the progress gone that I’ve worked so hard for over the last 6 months? Aaron had been such a good trainer. Now I can’t even get through a warm up? I must be coming down with something. But wait, am I really crying over a bad workout? LITERALLY CRYING? Why yes, yes I am.

I get home. Aaron asks how the gym was. He doesn’t know I’ve been crying. Until I start to tell him the horridness of my sudden decaying body & that I can’t believe the regression in the matter of only a week or two. He asks why I’m so emotional about it, everyone has periods of regression at the gym. Thanks sensitive hubby. Clearly, they had not yet covered the chapter of counseling devastated clients in his personal training courses yet. Clearly this is also a prime example of why its dangerous to take personal training advice from your spouse. I stalk out of the room, pouting like a 4 year old, & go change. As I’m taking off my sports bra, I realize I’m in pain. Not from the super strenuous warm up weights, or the marathon single mile leisure jog, but from taking off the bra. OhLordinheaven I prayed for the pain to go away or for me to just pass out. Never before had the boobies been a source of pure evil agony. I took a shower, hoping the hot water would relax things, I must be getting close to that time of the month. Normally, I’d know EXACTLY how close I was to starting, to the hour (for reals), as I diligently chart the cycles, temps, & whatnot. But one evening my darling husband ran to Blockbuster “real quick” (we were in the midst of watching Dexter, & we desperately needed the last DVD of season 4) & left our paper fetish dachshunds in our bedroom, where my charts lived on my nightstand. He returned to find our naughty dachshunds had eaten my charts. And silly Amber didn’t have a back up copy. And Amber had no recollection of the date of her last cycle. Sometime between Thanksgiving and Christmas is the best I could do.

Ok, no big deal right? We will just use alternative prevention measures (as becoming parents was not a role we could even fathom at the moment...Aaron had just gotten out of the Army in the spring, was currently unemployed & working on his personal training certificate, and I was working very full time & enjoying this new fitness lifestyle Aaron had helped me initiate). Alternative prevention measures are great & effective, if you are acclimated to using them (which we weren’t) or if you just USE THEM (which we did, almost every single time). ***Fun Fact: “almost” is a life-changing word.*** Before charting, I had been on the pill. It was a magic pill, but it was causing high blood pressure. So I stopped the magic pill and started charting. Charting was magic too, for the 8 months I had been using it. But the charts didn’t come in magic, dachshund-proof paper.

So anyway, my boobies are sore, I’m an emotional mess, my body is tired, weak, & decrepit at 28 years of age. I bet my cycle is just around the corner. I have a new sense of calm, just KNOWING that this must be what’s going on. I smile with relief as Aaron comes into the room & decides this is the moment to share with me that he’s been thinking & it really doesn’t make any sense for my workouts to have regressed to this level of low. What? I thought we had covered this. I know he’s still in school for this, but come-on, please don’t give me two completely opposing stances in 15 minutes & expect me to be ok with this. That’s all it took. I started bawling. He asked what was it now? I told him that my boobies are sore, I’m an emotional mess, my body is tired, weak, & decrepit at 28 years of age. The next thing he said caught me totally off guard. Everyone else probably would have seen it coming for miles, but not I, self-proclaimed queen of denial regarding anything that is not in my planner, on my calendar, or lining up with my immediate reality. “Take a pregnancy test. Do it now.”