This is what happened next…

Today was quieter than yesterday.
Not calm exactly… but softer.

At around 3 p.m., Hanz and I went to the diagnostic center for the blood test. The one that would say, clearly and officially, whether this pregnancy was real or not. We waited, did what we had to do, and then decided not to hover. We went to a nearby restaurant for my first meal of the day.

It was a nice moment. Ordinary in the best way. Good food. Sitting across from my husband. Life continuing while something very big hovered in the background.

Around 3:30 pm, we started talking about the what-ifs.

What if I’m not really pregnant?
What if the blood test comes back negative?

And that’s when something surprised me.

I told Hanz that I had actually woken up today feeling better than yesterday. More settled. Less panicked. Somewhere overnight, my body and mind had quietly decided: Okay. This is happening.

I had already started making space for it.

I was imagining a baby again. Thinking of names. Feeling that familiar creative hum in my system — the same one I felt when I was pregnant with Tuz ten, eleven years ago. That strange, beautiful surge where ideas come easily. Where writing feels alive again. Where I want to blog, record, speak, create — not out of strategy, but out of overflow.

It felt like my body remembered something before my mind could argue with it.

So when I asked ChatGPT earlier, “What if the blood test is negative? What do all these symptoms mean?” and I read that perimenopause can mimic pregnancy symptoms… something in me sank.

I told Hanz that reading that made me sad.

Because I realized:
I didn’t want it to be negative anymore.

Yesterday, I was still bracing for loss: loss of plans, loss of myself, loss of timing.
Today, I had already crossed into attachment.

I told him that if the test were negative, I knew what would happen. I’d probably cry again. I’d try to regulate myself. I’d tell myself, Okay, it’s fine. We continue. No baby. Back to the plans. I’d do what I’ve always done — adjust, accept, move forward.

And that realization that I could already see myself doing that made me deeply sad.

As 4 p.m. approached, the feelings started stacking on top of each other. Excitement. Fear. Anticipation. I told Hanz I was getting anxious, that I needed us to stop talking about it for a bit.

Because at that moment, I knew the truth of my heart.

I WANTED THE BLOOD TEST RESULT TO BE POSITIVE.

I wanted this to be real.

And if it was real, I wanted to do everything in my power to protect it. To carry this pregnancy to nine months. To live birth. To a healthy, happy, normal baby. I didn’t want half-hope anymore. I wanted clarity.

Then the result came.

Positive.

Officially. Clinically. Undeniably positive.

All the nurses at the diagnostic center started congratulating me and saying “Sana all!” excitedly. I was surprised! I thought they will feel worried about me because of my age. Or worse, judge me. Didn’t they see my age on the test result? But I smiled back and meekly said “Thank you.”

And even then, even with the confirmation in front of us, we were still shocked.
Because… I’m 47, turning 48 this month. Because this wasn’t planned. Because this wasn’t supposed to be how this chapter went.

But alongside the shock, something else rose up in me.

Joy.

Real joy.

So when we got home, we told Tuz…

At first, we teased him and said the test was negative. We asked how he felt.

He said he was neutral…

He said he was okay. Maybe a little sad.

Then we told him the truth.

We showed him the result.

And the way his face lit up… the laughter, the pure excitement, the disbelief turning into happiness… it grounded me in a way nothing else had today. His joy was unfiltered. Unburdened by timelines and plans and fears. Just joy.

“This is real, Mommy is really pregnant.”

Tonight, I’m holding a lot at once.

Shock and joy.
Fear and excitement.
Grief for the life I was planning… and curiosity about the life that’s now knocking.

I don’t know yet how all of this will unfold.
There’s a big chance I can have a miscarriage due to my age.
Or worse, make me and the baby unsafe.

I don’t know what this pregnancy will ask of me.

But today taught me something important.

I’m not just reacting to a test result.
I’m already relating to a presence.

And whatever comes next, that truth deserves to be honored… gently, honestly, and one step at a time.