The time I was told I wasn't pregnant. Only I was.

The day I took the test, I didn't think I was actually pregnant. I didn't feel too bad - just a little tired, but that is nothing new. The only thing that tipped me off was how I had gotten nauseous at the sight of a pile of bricks on the side of the road.

That is officially the weirdest thing ever, I know. But when I felt my stomach turn, I thought - That's not right. So I took the test and was walking around the kitchen waiting for the results to show, while Mike and Grayson played in the family room.

And then the result popped up, and I gasped. Pregnant. No way. NO FLIPPING WAY. I called for Mike, who took in the results and then beamed at me, like only a man can after hearing his wife is expecting.

It took me about a day and a half to process the news. I called the doctor. She told me to come in for some blood work.

So I did. I left the hospital less four vials of blood and a smile on my face. I was so excited!

And then the phone call came that afternoon that killed me. The nurse said, "Erin, you must have taken a faulty pregnancy test. There is no pregnancy hormone registering in your labwork."

What. I was stymied. (For lack of a better word.) Putting in a phone call to my friend who is a pharmacist and then a call to my mom, I headed upstairs to wake Mike up when the news really hit. Not pregnant. I felt like an idiot. Not pregnant because of a faulty pregnancy test. Mike held Grayson while I cried and cried, humiliated because I had been fooled by a pregnant test. Those things are 98% accurate, right??

So I insisted that we go to the store and purchase more pregnancy tests. I was like an obsessed person. I am sure I had a crazed look on my face as we pulled into the parking lot of a local drug store. I sent Mike in because there are just some things a husband should do, and he was gone for 20 minutes. He came out with two candy bars and two pregnancy test kits that looked like they had been manufactured in the USSR. One test had a cup, an indicator stick and a rubber glove. 

I said, "WHAT THE CRAP IS THIS??"

"It's all I could find!" He said defensively. "I searched that store for pregnancy tests and this is all they had!"

"YOU ARE WRONG," I yelled (not knowing if he was really wrong or not.) "TAKE ME TO WALMART AND I WILL GET THEM MYSELF. THESE WILL NOT DO. WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU!!!!"

Not my finest moment.

So off to Walmart we drove. I hopped out of the car before it even stopped moving, stormed through the doors, hair disheveled and my face red, and I immediately ran into someone else I know. And then someone else. And someone else.

Oh the joys of living in a small town.

I finally got to the cash registers, avoided one line because I knew someone and then ducked into another line, when I looked up and found a friend unloading her cart on the conveyor.

I was caught. So I told her about it. She made me smile and laugh, and I instantly felt calmer. Not AS crazy. Somewhat more level-headed. 

Once we got home, I flew into the house, ripped boxes of pregnancy tests apart, cellophane flying in the air and waited anxiously for the results.

Pregnant. Pregnant. Pregnant. 

WHAT. ON. EARTH.

I called Mike in to consult over the positive tests. I took pictures on my phone, sent them to my core group of ladies - because who doesn't want to see someone else's used pregnancy test?

We had a mass texting conversation between the four of us - What does this mean? Is the lab incorrect? 

I felt sick. And then I felt determined. I called the doctor and left a firm (to me but probably shaking to them) voicemail saying I wanted to be re-tested the following day.

I didn't sleep that night. Not one wink. I had MOPS in the morning, and I had to work and I just didn't want to go. I wanted to stay in bed, but something made me get ready for the day. I had made contingency plans with some of the ladies at MOPS, but my husband said, "You made a commitment to be a table leader, and you need to be there."

Yes, he played the commitment card. So I went to drop Grayson off at my mom's and got a phone call. It was the doctor's office. "Come in now" they said. "Get re-tested. We don't blame you for not wanting to wait another week."

So I went and waited. Finally it was my turn. I was in and out in about 5 minutes, record time. I went to MOPS, hugged some ladies, pretended that nothing was wrong and just waited for my phone to ring.

Wouldn't you know it rang while I was across the church putting away a projector. When I saw the missed call and voicemail, I flew into a quiet room and tried to steady my  heart. I am kind of laughing to myself right now about how dramatic I was. The nurse gave nothing away in the voicemail. I called her back right away, and she answered the phone with an, "Erin?! Is that you?! Well the labwork was wrong and you are MOST DEFINITELY pregnant."

She went on to tell me that she was so glad I had been persistent, and she was so happy for me. She was congratulating me over and over again. And all I felt was relief. And jubilation. The same emotion Mike shared with me when I got a hold of him.

If this is just the beginning of this pregnancy, I feel like it is going to be quite a ride.

And I kinda think this indicates we are having a girl because of all the drama drama drama! :)

DISCLAIMER: Please note that I do not harbor any ill feelings to the lab for messing up my bloodwork. I filed a formal complaint but it was more to bring awareness to the situation for the powers that be. It was not at all my doctor's fault, and I still feel like the sun rises and sets with her - she and her staff are awesome. I still trust her with my health and the health of my little one. She took exemplary care of Grayson and me, and I just cannot stress that enough. Mistakes happen. Let's move on.