Watching the LOST premiere last night reminded me of a night when
I was watching another Lost episode almost exactly a year ago.
I remember that episode so clearly, it was the one when Sun finds out she's pregnant: Adam and I were sitting on the couch together, watching the look on Sun's face as she takes the pregnancy test. That's when it hit me, and I felt like I had been punched in the stomach. I was late . . . really late. Not sure why I hadn't noticed or thought of it earlier, actually.
Luckily, I had a pregnancy scare earlier that summer so I had an extra "pee stick" laying around upstairs. Commercial break came around, and I told Adam I was just going to go to the bathroom upstairs really quickly (this was before we had DVR - best invention ever).
My heart was pounding in my chest as my slightly shaky hands ripped open the package and read the directions. And it was there, locked in a tiny bathroom during the commercial break of LOST, that I first saw that faint pink line. The one that meant my life was never going to be the same. My stomach was twisting, my palms were sweating, and my heart was fluttering as I raced back downstairs and watched the rest of the episode, LIKE NOTHING HAD CHANGED.
For some reason, in my mind, there was a good chance that I imagined the line, or maybe it didn't really mean I was pregnant (even though Jack had clearly told Sun that those tests were accurate and didn't give false positives -- and everyone knows what Jack says GOES). So I went to bed (notice I didn't say I actually slept), without even hinting anything to Adam about our life changing because of a little peanut inside me.
The next morning I woke up, leaped out of bed and went straight to the store to purchase some new, more accurate, tests. Two more tests only confirmed that my eggo was preggo.
Don't get my wrong, this was NOT a horrible accidental pregnancy, we were planning on starting a family soon . . . it's just the reality of the fact that I was going to be a MOM sort of felt like a large tree had fallen on my chest, making breathing a little difficult.
Anyhow, I wanted to tell Adam the news with a cute bib or onesie or something that said "I love my daddy." However, trips to three or four stores proved that babies do not, in fact, love their daddies enough to wear bibs or onesies proclaiming as much. Luckily, my local Target (where else?!) did have a cute little bib that said "Amo a Papa." Now, I don't speak Spanish (at least not beyond what's necessary for ordering Mexican food), but I was pretty sure this meant something similar to "I love my daddy." So I bought it, stuck it in a bag and waited anxiously for Adam to get home from work.
The minute Adam walked in the door, I blurt out that I had a present for him and practically threw the bag at him. Then I went and sat on the couch, peeking out from under my favorite furry blanket to watch his reaction. Despite his understandable confusion at receiving a Spanish phrase on a baby bib, he was able to decipher the general message.
The expression on his face as he turned to ask me "Are we pregnant?!!" was one of excitement and joy. I burst into tears and asked him "you aren't mad?" I have NO idea why I thought he would be mad. I sure he was scared, overwhelmed, excited . . . but definitely not mad.
Despite the barrage of emotion that rushed through our hearts a year ago when we discovered the existence of our little peanut -- we could never have even begun to imagine the range of emotions we would be feeling today now that she's actually a part of our lives!