Scott kept telling me I was pregnant. Part of me wanted to believe him, but I'd gotten my hopes up way too many times thus far. I tested 8 DPO, with a negative result. I knew it. Same result as always.
Scott was out in Orlando for work Friday night, June 17th. Saturday, we had plans to meet my brother to go out on the boat. Scott left his conference early to get home so the plan was to meet at his office. I was scurrying to get us packed when I decided to do another test since I may partake in a few drinks on the boat. I put the test down and watched the results come up. Negative again. Ugh!
Wait...
am I imagining something?
is that a shadow?
could i be?
seriously?
i walked away several times, but kept coming back to it. The second line certainly wasn't as dark as the first line. (guess i should have re-read the directions).
i had a perm-smile and put the test away for safe keeping. Only went back to look at it about 10 times before i left.
Honestly, I still wasn't convinced. I was anxious to get home and take another test the following day. At the time I hadn't googled everything you possibly could about pregnancy tests to know that ANY line there was a positive, no matter how faint.
Father's day Sunday. I retested in the morning. OMG, another test with 2 lines. I REALLY AM!! I wanted to scream out for Scott to look at the test, but I also wanted to surprise him in some way.
I cooked breakfast and managed to sneak the tests next to his plate. (Of course, he later thanked me for putting a pee stick near his breakfast...germaphobe!) "Happy Father's Day", I told him. He was amazed. Happy. Not nearly as shocked as I expected. Per usual, he handled it much more maturely than I did!
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