The first day is the day we wake to the pregnancy testing kit. Inside I am certain yet I will act out the next few moments as if I am delightfully surprised. He knows that I know; another joyful actor in the game of love and breeding...
I am thinking of the past few days...
I have the scent of a bloodhound. I can detect the smell of rum and thyme from 30 miles out. My breasts haven't become sore as of this morning; there isn't yet any nausea or vomiting. Yet, I simply know. I am never late. And we were able to detect ovulation the day of...
I make my way into the bath adjoining our 4th floor area; the room that finds the family bed. It is barely 6 AM, yet I've waited patiently since around 3 to wake and perform the pregnancy test. We decided the night before that it was time... This kit has been patient; sitting atop the wall mirror since its purchase a few months prior.
Removing the plastic from the box becomes a task.
I grab at my little black comb sitting along the edges of the porcelain sink. I push the tines of the comb into the plastic. After puncturing the plastic I find the plastic continues to resist removal. Finally the plastic is placed into the small rattan trash container under the sink. The plastic has static electricity and wants my finger more than it wants to sit with the discarded tissues and hairs in the trashcan.
Then to the newer task of opening the box... It is like opening a tin can with a toothpick! I am nearly peeing myself, having waited for over 3 hours to have the opportunity at a really potent morning sample, standing in the dark bathroom with this box!
Out fall the contents. This particular kit has many parts. It takes another full few minutes to assemble the parts and take the proverbial pee. This kit will flash 'Not Pregnant' or 'Pregnant' when the sample has been processed.
I pee over the little tab. Snap the lid back on. Carry this stick over to the bed in the horizontal, as instructed.
In the dark my husband stirs.
He comes up to the sitting position so quickly- hoping and excited just as I find myself spying the results. I can see that there is only one word. I hand the stick to him anyway with a few words:
'I can't see it honey, open the blind'...
He stands up and goes to the window, one of a pair on either side of the bed. Pretty windows... He takes the string in hand, pulling with his right hand and shoving the stick into the murky first light of the morning that barely makes its way beyond the window sash.
Turning to me he says with nothing but love and happiness in his voice:
'It says pregnant!'
I think to myself I know honey... I already know...
He snuggles in with me. He then makes love to me and I return his gesture, with love.
This time, we will be parents...
Later I note that one of the tines in my little black comb has failed and been broken. I pull it off like a young girl doing little love-me-nots on a daisy thinking that now and forever this comb will be my baby comb.
To you, tiny little one to be, I will write a journal. In the world you will enter you will find love. You will find also that communication is now a shared thing- nearly living and breathing as a sort of living form itself. In this world we stumble and we fall yet there are hands to lift us up again. Many times they are the hands of a stranger- the vitual good Samaritans all about like scree strewn upon the path of life.
To you, tiny little one to be, I will keep the faith. Life hands out her favours with little or no premeditation; only those with the eyes to see the gifts will see them. Only those with hands firm enough to hold the gifts will grasp them just enough that they can breath. To you I will pass this legacy.
