Continued from The Path to Now, Parts 1 & 2
The spring, summer, and early fall of 2008 passed fairly uneventfully. We were adjusting to being a two-working-parent household and having Mr. Four Walls' mom live with us, but financially we had stabilized. Don't get me wrong, it was tight, but it was doable. We we're making it, and had started in earnest to attack our credit card debt that had been hanging around so long it was almost a family pet. I downsized my car from the requisite Mom-mobile to a four-door compact to account for the long commutes and high-price of gas (that was the summer of $4+ per gallon of gas), as well as lowering the payment over $100 a month and reducing the insurance. Mr. Four Walls was working steadily, and we both received much-needed raises from our starting salaries. We knew eventually we should sell the house and down-size our expenses, but for the time-being we could make it, hoping to ride it out until values recovered a bit and we could break even. We weren't out of the woods, but we thought we were navigating through them, and every once in a while we caught glimpses of the pasture beyond. Then the season turned.
Mid-fall, I began not to feel well. It was more than just a cold, but we were so busy that I ignored it as much as I could. One morning in early December I woke up with a racing heart beat, and I couldn't ignore it any longer. It was a horrible feeling, like I had just ran a mile at full-speed hopped up on caffiene, but I had been asleep. The closest to feeling like that I had ever come before was when they had tried to stop my pre-term labor with Miss Florida, and the medication was horrible. Every few heart-beats my heart would jump, and then pause, and then jump. It was so scary. Mr. Four Walls took me to the ER, and thankfully we discovered that it was only a reaction to receiving a slightly incorrect dosage of medication for a different chronic condition that I've had for years. Very manageable and treatable, but it wiped me out for a couple of weeks, not to mention added the extra expenses of a trip to the ER and all the follow-up visits. Right about the time I started to feel a bit better, the huge snowstorm hit, leaving Mr. Four Walls essentially out of work. On top of that, he told me he wasn't sure but he thought he might be laid-off in the near future, and the week of Christmas he was. Merry Christmas, right?
All contractors in our area were, and are, still struggling to keep the work lined up, so it wasn't a complete surprise. They told him they expected to have another project for him just after the 1st of the year, so we resigned ourselves to the fact that Mr. Four Walls was taking an extended, unpaid holiday break. Not wanted, but not the end of the world. Two weeks turned into three, and then to four. I again started to feel really tired and "off," but knew that it wasn't my medication. I started trying to remember the last time I had been visited by my favorite aunt. I knew I had seen her in November, but could not recall for the life of me having a visit in December. Mr. Four Walls swore I had, and I believed him, chalking my lack of recall up to me being sick and barely functioning for the first half of December. By mid-January, however, I knew something was brewing. As I awoke the Saturday of MLK weekend I rolled over onto my stomach and about leapt out of bed in pain. I looked at Mr. Four Walls as he stood at the sink brushing his teeth.
"You have to go buy me a pregnancy test. Now."
He stood there looking at me like I was crazy. I had a Copper IUD, the statistically most effective form of birth control on the market, and in 5 years we had never had this issue. Even so, I made him go to the store right then and there, and he, being the loving and obedient husband he is, went without a fight. As he handed me the tests (a 2-pack - wise man) on my way into the bathroom, he told me I was crazy. Three minutes later....
....I knew nothing. The stupid test didn't work! Not even the control window registered anything. I got up and started the day, doing the usual Saturday morning chores and biding my time until I had to...um... pee. Mr. Four Walls still thought I was completely crazy and didn't even bother to come upstairs to our bedroom with me when I told him I was heading up to take the other test. Three minutes later....
....a faint positive. Very faint but definitely there. Alone, I sat on the edge of the tub for a few minutes, forcing myself to breathe in and out as I stared at the double line on the stick. I was so worried about how Mr. Four Walls would react. I was scared of another pregnancy. Obviously, it was not the best time for us financially, but my bigger concern had to do with how my previous pregnancy had ended: in a NICU with a teeny baby born at 32 weeks. The thoughts, fears, and questions flooded over me. How could we afford this baby? I hadn't even been at my job for a year. How would they react? Could I even carry this baby since I still had the IUD? 32 weeks is borderline for positive outcomes in the NICU. What if this one came sooner? It felt like I sat there forever. I was so shocked I didn't cry, just stared and tried to catch up to my racing mind. Finally, I called out downstairs and asked Mr. Four Walls to join me.
I was shaking, at least on the inside, as he came through the door. He had made it no secret that he wanted to be done with babies after our second was born, but had held off making it permanent to respect my wishes that we wait a few years to be sure. I had left the test sitting on the side of the tub, and asked him to go look at it while I sat on the edge of the bed, waiting for his reaction. He picked it up and stared at it in silence for a few seconds. I walked over to stand next to him.
"So two lines means you are, right?"
"Yes."
Silent pause.
He turned to me, wrapped his arms around my waist, smiled and said, "Ah, crap." I have never laughed so hard in my life! I kissed him and thanked him for being so kind. Then we truly began the steep descent toward losing the house, together.
I'll continue The Path to Now in yet another entry.
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