A little over a year ago, I went to the hospital to have my gallbladder removed.
I got up that morning and as I was praying about the surgery and my nerves, I felt like I should take the pregnancy test I happened to have in my bathroom cabinet. Now I don’t know if you’ve ever felt like God was trying to tell you something, but let me tell ya, it’s hard to shake. But so is the anxiety I’ve dealt with for the past few years. So, I told myself I was being silly and just trying to find something to be worried about, and tried to put the thought out of my head. After all, I had just taken a pregnancy test two days prior in preparation for the surgery. Surely if it came back positive they would’ve let me know.
We drove to the hospital, checked in, and I got to my little room where they prepped me for surgery. Now when I say they prepped me for surgery, I mean they had me ready to enter the OR– right down to shaving the baby hairs off my stomach.
The nurse came in and asked for a sample to run another pregnancy test. (I wondered how the heck she expected me to give her anything when I hadn’t been allowed to eat or drink since midnight the night before, but I digress…) I gave the sample, and she sat it on the counter outside my room to be taken to the lab. Another nurse came in and said, “We don’t need to do another test, she did one already.” The first nurse looked at me, the second nurse looked at me and continued, “unless something’s changed since that last negative.” I shrugged my shoulders and said, “That was two days ago, so I guess nothing’s changed…”So they tossed it in the trash. They continued prepping me, gave me versed, and started rolling me back to the OR. When I say rolling me back, I mean we were turning the corner into the OR. As they’re rolling me back, a nurse came running out telling us to stop because there was a positive pregnancy test on my chart. Every doctor, nurse, and tech turned and looked at me like, “whaaat?” At this point my mind was racing, trying to figure out how I’m gonna tell people, how we’re gonna afford this, and how I’m supposed to be a mom when I still felt like a kid myself. They rolled me back to my room, and went to get my husband from the waiting room. They told him and let me tell you, the smile on his face put every single worry to rest.
At some point, a nurse came in, grabbed my hand, and told me this was a miracle. I laughed it off then, (probably because of the versed) but looking back now, and holding this sweet, chubby, squirmy, bundle of cuteness, I completely agree. I couldn’t imagine my life without him.
For a while after that day, it would just hit me at random times how amazing and crazy my life had become. I would look at my husband and say, “Life is so weird.” And then one of us would say, “and good.” So I decided to make this my motto. (What’s a motto? Nothing, what’s a motto with you?) No matter how weird life with a baby gets, it’s always good.