I was at Day 45 of my normal 28 Day cycle. I know this because every morning at work I would bring up a calendar on my computer and with my finger, would count each day with a silent “oh no, oh crap, oh crap,” every time another day was added to the count. It was a ritual that became more significant as each day ticked over. I would often flick back to the calendar during the course of my day to do a recount. No change to my tally.
My then-partner-now-husband and I had had a dramatic start to our relationship resulting in scar tissue for both of us. We were healing, planting roots in a rocky surface. We were tenacious and tenuous. It was a soulful time, which we look back on fearfully. Lordy, how tough were we to get through that, we think now. Bloody tough and determined. On the surface, we were great’ish but under the surface, we were complex. A baby wasn’t on the one year plan; we were still trying to keep a one year plan with both of us on it, afloat. A baby wasn’t even a tiny blip on the radar, no biological clocks were ticking, we were just working on us. Priority Number One.
Day 45, I decided a trip to the doctor was probably wise. “Don’t worry about coming with me, I call you after your meeting”, I told my partner. I ducked out to the doctor between meetings, with the plan to pick up a muffin on the way back to the office. The muffin never happened. I don’t think the meetings did either.
“Well you’re definitely pregnant”, the doctor smiled at me. “Is this a good thing?” she asked. Had her eyes fleetingly glanced at my ring-less fingers and the empty chair beside me?
Without a hint of hesitation, as a warmth radiated through my body and a tingle went down my back, I replied “Oh definitely, this is awesome”. Then “Am I really pregnant, but oh-my-god, I drank so much for the millennium New Years party, can I still exercise, how many weeks am I, what happens next?” I touched my stomach in amazement, feeling fragile, vulnerable and excited.
And as I sat in the doctor’s chair, a feeling of calm came over me as I basked in the wonderful knowledge that whatever happened now, I would be a Mum, and this baby’s father would always be part of my life. Whether as my partner, or as our baby’s father, he would always be in our life. Our lives would always be connected in some way.
And this comfort, changed me, and this news changed the direction of our relationship. And the way it felt.
Our almost 11 year old knows this story, we tell him constantly how he changed our lives. He knows that he is not an “accident”. Because the way we see it there is absolutely nothing accidental about why he came into our lives. He came into our lives to change our lives. And mine changed in a heart beat as I sat in the doctor’s room. His heart beat.
Has there been a minute that has changed your life?
Lisa Schofield is a mad keen blogger, a Kiwi trying unsuccessfully to lose her accent, a mum to 3 gorgeous fellas, and an adventure race addict. You can follow her blog here