With your first, you hover over the stick. You hear each and every click of the second hand. You're sure it hasn't been three minutes, and yet...and yet...positive?
With your second, well, with our second, you're a little disbelieving. You're just doing it to rule out that option. There's no way, afterall, your first is only SIX MONTHS OLD! How is this test positive? How in the world is this even possible? How are we going to do this? Turns out, with much joy.
The third time, you've been trying. Your youngest is now 3 1/2 and thinking she's the center of the universe (it turns out she is) and it's time. You take the test, not really hoping, not really expecting...
Three minutes, when you already have two kids, is valuable time. Time not to be waisted listening to the tick-tick of the second hand. Three minutes is enough time to get lunch served, to sit down for a few seconds, to think about the list of chores you must get done. Pretty soon, as is always the case, three minutes turns into five, then ten, and suddenly a few hours.
That's when Brett comes out of the bathroom with a giant grin on his face. "Do you know yet?" he asks.
"Know what? No, I just turned on my computer," I say, thinking he's refering to something on Facebook.
"No, your test. I saw it."
Holy crap! How could I have forgotten? It's not every day I pee on a stick to see if my future will change forever.
"What does it say?!" I ask.
He only grins.
"You're grinning. You're happy. It must be negative."
He laughs. He really seems happy.
"It's positive? It's positive. It's positive!"
I run into the bathroom.
Here we go again!