"Don't look at it! Don't you dare look!" I shout at my husband as he makes his way into the bathroom early that morning.
"I won't, but you're not. So who cares?"
"Don't look, I mean it."
It was November 25, 2009. This was only one of a few times I had sat waiting that three minutes for an answer.
This time was different. This time I was pretty sure I knew.
The night before I had met a friend for drinks after a particularly stressful day at work. I hadn't been feeling well for nearly a week, but I felt like I could use the opportunity to decompress after the day's events. I had halfheartedly ordered a Bud Light and some typical bar fare. I drank about half of the beer and not a single drop tasted good. I don't think I even so much as touched the food.
Chalking it up to nerves from work, I called it an early night and headed to my car. On the way home, I passed up a Walgreens. (Not hard to do, there's one on every damn corner.) And then, it hit me.
There was surely a reason why I suddenly couldn't stomach a Bud Light and potato skins. And it had nothing to do with work.
I found what I was looking for in an aisle I have always thought was interestingly stocked.
Feminine products, condoms, and the item I was looking for - home pregnancy tests.
It's like, find out if you're pregnant or not and if you're not, stock up on tampons and condoms. Here's hopin'.
And there we were. Standing on the edge of that "Are we or aren't we?" cliff.
My husband finished up in the bathroom and went back to lay down.
"You're not going to look with me?"
"I told you, you're not. No way."
I glanced at the package insert. Two blue lines, you're pregnant. One line, you're not. Simple as that.
I flipped over the little stick and took a look. And looked again.
It looked like a second blue line. But, I really couldn't tell. It was awfully faint.
Maybe my husband was right. Maybe I wasn't.
I stole another glance at the instructions. If a second blue line is present, no matter how faint, it is a positive result.
"Babe. I think it's positive."
"What? No it isn't."
"Stop. Look. We're pregnant."
And as it turned out. We were.
Sure, I threw up that morning and didn't stop throwing up every morning for the next 20 weeks.
Sure, the mere thought of turkey at Thanksgiving dinner the next day, sent me running for the bathroom.
But, the question of "Are we or aren't we?" had been answered.
And that year (and every year since) we have had something to be truly thankful for.