Navigating the Change

Under most circumstances, I’m usually pretty good at apologizing and admitting when I’m wrong. 

However, sixteen years ago, three different pregnancy tests accused me of being with child.

Though I strongly insisted that they were wrong, it turns out that they were, in fact, right. 

To this day, I have yet to proffer an apology for my error—and I probably never will. 

Yes, I’ll admit to calling every one of those tests gotdamned liars!

Yes, I’ll admit that they actually told the objective truth. 

No, I don’t feel bad for unfairly labeling them deceptive.

And no, I don’t give a shit. 

Anyway, I probably should explain—and I will—but before I do, allow me to introduce myself. 

I am LadyG, and I got caught up on the down-stroke some sixteen years ago when I was in my late thirties. 

How did that happen, you ask?

Shit, I wondered the same thing!

To be honest, I thought that my “baby-having” days were over. 

You see, I had already had a son, who was about to be twelve, and I figured he would be my sole contribution to the world’s population. 

For years, I had been lucky!

Even though I was sexually active, I somehow managed to escape any pregnancy scares—which is miraculous because your girl was getting the “up-stroke,”  “left- stroke,” “back-stroke,” and every other damn stroke in between. 

That said, I hadn’t even experienced one late period in all that time between my son’s birth and that unforgettable day in 2005 when those pregnancy tests started with their bullshit!

So, by the age of thirty-six, I thought I was in the clear!

I mean, I was a stone’s throw from my fortieth birthday, which to me, signified the last stop before menopause. Hell, I thought I was peri-menopausal.

Yeah chile, I thought I was in the clear, but as my Mama used to say, “Thought like the bitty—thought the hen’s titty was a city!”

LOL!  Go ahead and laugh at my troubles—the shit is funny now—but it wasn’t funny then. 

At any rate, I feel it’s important to give you some backstory in order to shed some light on my mindset at that particular point in time. 

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One day I wasn’t feeling very well; I’d recently had some heavy bleeding during my periods—but nothing too scary. 

After about two weeks, I still felt ill so I decided to take a pregnancy test in order to rule that out.

I knew damn well pregnancy wasn’t the issue. 

So, I went to the drug store and bought a two-pack pregnancy test kit. 

Shortly thereafter, I went home, changed clothes, went to the bathroom, read the directions and peed on the little stick. 

Since I already “knew” that the test would be negative, I set the stick down on the sink, walked off, casually rummaged through some mail, and returned well beyond the amount of time required for the results to appear. 

Hell, I even stopped to mess around in my closet before looking at the test stick. 

Suffice it to say, your girl was not at all pressed!

Anyway, before approaching the stick, I glanced at a picture on the test box which illustrated that one line appearing in the little test window meant “not pregnant,” while two lines meant “pregnant.”

Well, I went ahead and picked up the stick—fully prepared to see one line. 

Chile, when I looked at that stick and saw two lines I screamed at the top of my lungs! 

I hollered, “WHAT?”

Baby, I was FRANTIC!

Despite the shock, I remembered that I had gotten a double pack. 

I recall thinking that the first test was clearly mistaken.

So, I decided to go ahead and pee on the second stick so I could get that negative result and go on about my normal affairs. 

Half nervous, I peed on the second stick, sat it down, then commenced to pace back and forth in front of the toilet.

A couple of minutes later, I looked at the stick which displayed extra dark double lines.

Chile, it was as if the tests were saying, “Bitch you’re pregnant…Why doth thou keep testing us?”

RUDE!

So very RUDE!

At any rate, do you think I called the father?

Oh hell naw! 

I called my bestie and said, “Bitch, if you’re not already sitting down, you better!”

She responded, very cautiously, “Okay…”

To which I immediately blurted, “I’m pregnant!”

After the initial shock, she was somehow able to talk my ass off the imaginary ledge that I had constructed in my mind. 

Real talk, I don’t know what I would have done without her. 

My next call was to my partner–who was surprisingly calm. 

He advised me not to worry and ensured me that everything would be fine. 

Later that evening, he came over so that we could discuss next steps. 

I asked him to bring a third test—just to be absolutely sure.

To my chagrin, I failed that one too!

To be honest, I felt some kinda way because my partner was a bit too relaxed and upbeat about the situation. 

I felt like he was making light of things. 

Freshly pregnant, I was all up in my feelings!

So, after I’d had all the playfulness that I could stand, I hollered, “It’s funny to you because you ain’t gotta do nothin’ but stand there looking stupid while death walks around my bed ninety-nine times…I’m looking at pushing a baby out at damn near forty!”

By the way, folks in the South often talk about death walking around your bed during childbirth—but that’s another story. 

Anyway, let’s just say that I got his ass together real quick, and he ended up apologizing. 

Ah, but let me tell you the strangest part to LadyG’s pregnancy drama. 

I ended up getting pregnant, unexpectedly, while there were several family members and friends who were trying desperately to have a child—to no avail.

No doubt, I felt weird sharing this news with them.

Of course, that’s also another story for a different day.

Either way, I finally came to terms with the pregnancy and began looking forward to the birth of my baby. 

Unfortunately, it was a very complex and rocky pregnancy. 

I was sick almost the entire time. 

I was also anxious, to some degree, about all of the prenatal testing that was recommended due to my age. 

Honestly, I declined most of them believing that whatever was meant to be would be.

I simply decided not to let all of those scary potentialities bother me. 

In fact, I was bound and determined that me and my child would go through this like two champs! 

So, everyday, I followed my mother’s advice to take things “day-by-day” and to keep praying.

And, alas, I’m happy to report that we both made it through the pregnancy, and sure enough, I gave birth to a beautiful baby girl—thus beginning another chapter of motherhood.

In parting, I’d like to thank YOU for checking out my story.

To those three rude-ass pregnancy tests, I bid you “Good day!”

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Follow LadyG on Instagram: ladyg_living_life

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Subscribe to to LadyG’s YouTube channel and listen to her early menopause/fibroid tumor story: Fibroid Tumors and Pregnancy

Listen to the audio version of LadyG’s story on SoundCloud: I Owe 3 Pregnancy Tests an Apology

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Write for Navigating the Change.