Total, absolute disbelief.
H1 and I had both had pretty rubbish days leading up to that positive pregnancy test. It was a Friday, and we both headed out separately for a quick after-work drink with our colleagues. I was planning on one or two drinks, meeting H1 at home, then heading down to our favourite local pub for a debrief over a glass of wine before returning to the apartment to make dinner.
Near the bottom of my first beer I got a very strong foreboding feeling. A ‘you shouldn’t be drinking this’ feeling such as I’ve never felt before. I’m not a very intuitive person, so you can imagine how weird this felt to me. Nevertheless, I made my next drink alcohol-free and left earlier than planned, very keen all of a sudden to be home with the pregnancy test I knew was in the bathroom cupboard.
When you’ve been trying for as long as H1 and I had been, you get pretty used to the disappointment that comes along with every negative test, and I absolutely expected this to be no different. Obviously, it was, however. So different I didn’t even know what to say to H1, who walked into the apartment about four seconds after I walked into the bathroom. I left him out there by himself for a good five or six minutes, then asked him to join me in the bathroom. (This isn’t normal behaviour, I should stress).
We stared, then we hugged, then I cried a little bit, but not out of joy, just total confusion. On the dining table was a letter from the IVF clinic, inviting us in for an orientation appointment before we started treatment. Suddenly, nothing added up.
So we did something that did make sense to us on a Friday night, and went to the pub. H1 had a beer, and I had water, and we talked and talked and talked.
H1 kept asking me if I was sure it wasn’t a false positive, and I kept explaining they didn’t exist except in a handful of highly unusual cases. Then doubting myself and googling. Then showing him my evidence, which would satisfy both of us for about 20 minutes before we felt the need to do it all again.
Other than that, I don’t really remember what we talked about. Nothing too tangible or real. Nothing that in any way, shape or form resembled a decision about how we were going to tackle what came next. Just…stuff, really. That’s about it. A pregnancy is about nine months long. We had time.