The day it all began

The day it all began

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Aug 2015

‘Ok, I’m going to do it’, I said as I rolled out of bed and shuffled to the en suite, butt naked and still half asleep. 

As soon as I move out of bed in the morning, the urge to pee is immediate and requires urgent attention. Here I am, wiggling around trying to undo the Clear Blue Digital from its sterile packet which in this instance, seems like a challenge on The Krypton Factor. ‘Come on, come on, OPEN,’ I’m thinking whilst my bladder gives further warning of my desperation to go. 

It opens, pinging the contents from the packet and drops to the floor. Whipping it up quickly whilst flapping the instructions open with the other hand and speedily glancing at the pictures trying to figure out how to do this right. The voice in my head chastising me for not reading the instructions the night before. I shhh it in my mind. 

I just want to take a moment to talk about this. We’ve all heard the term, ‘peeing on a stick’ but NEVER did I realise it had to be with military precision to get an accurate result. And that there would be options on how to get the pee actually on the stick.

Pee in a glass and stick it in like a straw or try to catch it on the tip as it falls… I have no glass. Catch it as it falls it is.

Putting the tip of the stick in the stream mid flow for 5 seconds seems simple does it not? But now I’ve been holding it in so any chance of it trickling in a predictable direction are blown. It’s going to be a power pee, sprinkler style. Deep breath, I’m acutely aware I’m about to pee on my hand as I position it in the loo, me hovering above, and away we go. Count to 5…. brain flashes to the episode of friends where Ross gets a spray tan… should I count 1 Mississippi 2 Mississippi?

FIVE (ish), out I pull my hand trying not to drip on anything, replace the cap on the soggy end of the stick and grab the loo roll. All this is being watched from the comfort of the bed by the penis wielding sperminator with great delight. 

‘Come on come on,’ he says with excitement as I finish up and head back to the bed. We decide not to look until the two minutes have passed and look together.

We sit there silently, I can feel my tummy butterflies bursting with glee but trying not to get hopes up too much, I was only a day late, telling myself it’s probably nothing. But I feel different, the voice in my head whispers. I shhh it again.

It’s time.

We turn it over and it’s there. The line. Confirmation that there is, somewhere in my tummy, a little cluster of cells no bigger than a poppy seed which, with luck would turn into a person. 

Then come all the feelings. Joy, disbelief, fear… but most of all excitement. And so it begins I thought to myself as I looked at my partner. Let’s do this.

We named the womb dweller, Sprout.