I first suspected I was pregnant one morning a little over four months ago while I was riding the bus to work. I just felt tired in a weird way. So I bought a pregnancy test at the Bartell's across the street from the library, took it in the office restroom, and voila! Two pink lines. When I got home, I took another pregnancy test. And another one. Which I decided would be best followed up by taking another one, and maybe just one more to verify the results. Many, many pink lines. I would line up all the tests and look at them as if they were ancient runes hiding some secret message.
All along the way, this whole experience has seemed slightly unreal to me. Not in a bad way--just in the sense that I was completely amazed and tearful and awestruck the first time I heard the baby's heartbeat. And the first time I saw the baby on ultrasound. Also every time I looked at the ultrasound pictures thereafter. Each confirmation that a someone is actually living in there has been a "holy crap" moment for me.
None more so than this morning, when Mr. A. held my hand while the ultrasound technician told us--and showed us--that TimJim really is a TimJim. Wow. We have a son.