It’s Friday morning – 8am. I barely slept in anticipation of our embryo transfer. Christi and I were anxious and ready to have a shot at parenthood. The process was pretty much the same as the last time. Christi was wheeled into the freezing room, strapped in, and the embryos were turkey-basted into oven.
The following week was hectic to say the least. I was a groomsman in Daryl’s wedding in San Antonio on Saturday. Christi, on embryo house-arrest, could not attend. Tracey, a life saver, volunteered to come over and occupy Christi with movies and girl stuff.
That night, at the wedding, I learned what it means to have true friends. I can’t count the number of friends that prayed for us, sent us their good thoughts and truly wanted us to have a baby. These are the same people that, five years ago, were more concerned with killing gallons of booze before dawn and tagging the passed out with permanent marker… times have changed. Ironically, I had one drink at the wedding and drove home to Austin that night to be with Christi.
The next ten days were stressful. Christi made a huge mistake three days before we were to get the official results… she took a home pregnancy test. The pee-test came back negative which seemed to put us both into a tailspin for the long weekend. Christi’s work had a happy hour for a co-worker on Friday. With the negative home pregnancy test, she seriously considered drinking that night. There was no way she was pregnant so she might as well enjoy the evening. She only drank water that night.
That Sunday morning we drove to the lab for the official blood test. We would have to wait another five hours for the results. We spent most of the day with my sister and her family to keep our minds off the looming bad news. After the noon hour crept towards us, we decided to go home and wait for the results at 1:30pm.
The wait was agonizing. We decided to page the nurse early to “get it over with”. I was looking up the phone number when the phone rang. The caller ID showed Dr. Vaughn’s number. Dr. Vaughn wasn’t supposed to call us… this is bad… real bad. I’m sure he was saving the nurse from delivering more bad new. Christi ran to my side to allow me to listen to the result. I didn’t want to hear. I heard three words… I will never forget those three words…
“You’re Pregnant Girl!”
Imagine shaking a Champaign bottle for 2 years and then finally uncorking it. That’s what the moment felt like. All the sadness, anxiousness, anger, depression flowed out and was replaced by one feeling… YES!
Lucky Number 13
Cuz I'm a freaky streaker like Winnie the Pooh /
T-shirt and no pants and I dance the boogaloo!
- Beastie Boys
