I held a pregnancy test in the winter of 2004, with a line so faint I threw it in the garbage, called my husband, and announced a false alarm. I went back to my computer and finished up some admin work. I typed and filed and responded to emails and a few hours later, a thought hit me. What if a faint line is still a line?
I dug into the garbage, lifted up the instructions (now wet with coffee), and read, “Any test line visible on the pregnancy test, even a faint one, indicates a positive result.”
I couldn’t believe it.
I gathered two coworkers, all three of us like detectives getting to the bottom of a case. The line barely visible left all of us skeptical of a true positive result. We went to the store and bought another test displaying the words “Pregnant” or “Not Pregnant.” It seemed there wasn’t as much room for error.
I stared at the word “pregnant” but still, the only thing I felt pregnant with was doubt. Not married a full year yet, I didn’t feel ready for motherhood.
I recall helping a friend with their baby. I tried to strap the little girl in her car seat, but failed. I couldn’t figure out which clip went where and which button I needed to push to get it to latch. My head sunk into my collapsed shoulders like a turtle and the look on my face made my ignorance on car seats more apparent. The mom came over and latched it with ease. A little later, I held the baby outside. The mom told me I should get a blanket and wrap it around her legs. Small encounters like these planted tiny seeds of doubt in my heart. I didn’t know how to strap a car seat. I didn’t remember to wrap the baby’s legs in a blanket. I don’t know if I have what it takes to be a mother.
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