In Defense of Not Testing

Note: I wrote the following several months ago, shortly after my wife and I began to suspect that she was pregnant. I'm happy to report that since then, we've had the joy of hearing the baby's heartbeat, and just recently we felt it kick for the first time.

My wife is late. Two weeks late as of tomorrow. She is never late. Obvious conclusion? We’re pregnant. But here’s the thing: we aren’t actually sure. She and I have had many conversations with our close friends and family about pregnancy tests in the past two weeks, and despite the chorus of people encouraging us to test, we’ve decided almost for certain that we aren’t going to. I’m pretty sure that her reasons aren’t quite the same as mine; hers are probably driven more by her inclination to leave things appropriately unresolved so she can savor the anticipation and soak up every ounce of every possible moment. She’s not one to press forward into future stages of her life; she’d generally prefer to let the transition happen organically and enjoy it as she passes through it. I love this about her, and I married her in hopes of learning how to live that way myself - but it’s not my main reason for avoiding a pregnancy test.

As I’ve thought through my explanations of why I don’t want to test, I imagine my way through various test results. If the test came out negative, I would flatly refuse to believe it. My wife is an extremely “regular” woman; she’s never been more than a day late in her entire life. Any statistician would agree: Two weeks late means we conceived. We’re way too many sigmas out for this to be anything else. If a pregnancy test were negative, I would immediately consider it to be a faulty pregnancy test.

On the other hand, what would a positive result mean? On the surface, it would confirm what we already know: we conceived. We commenced a pregnancy. If we left it simply at that, we’d be fine; albeit no better off than before. But here’s the problem: when people get a positive pregnancy test, they don’t say “we conceived!” Rather, they make the dramatically stronger statement of “we’re going to have a baby!” But that is not what the test tells them; all the test can do is confirm that an egg was fertilized. The test cannot say if the baby will still be alive tomorrow; it can’t even reliably say whether the baby was alive yesterday. “Home Pregnancy Tests” could more honestly be called “Conception Verification Tests,” since that’s the only pregnancy-related information they give you with any certainty.

There seems to be this notion that unless you take the test, you’re totally clueless about whether you’ll have a child or not, that the test brings sharp focus to an otherwise hopelessly blurry landscape. We’re given this razor-sharp dichotomy: Complete uncertainty before testing, complete certainty after testing. But the way I see it, this line we’ve drawn is false and misleading; in reality, before you take the test, you’re not completely uncertain. The very fact that you’re taking a test means that at some level, you already suspect you might be pregnant; your uncertainty is already beginning to look a bit less blurry. Then, once you get the positive test result, the baby still has a very long and dangerous road ahead of it before you get the privilege of holding it in your arms. The certainty given you by the positive test is incremental, not absolute. The dark consequence of home pregnancy tests is that a positive test brings a dangerous illusion of certainty; true certainty can only come with time.

So, I’m taking this next month to cherish this process of incremental certainty. Every day that goes by where my wife doesn’t start a period is one day we’re that much more sure we’re pregnant. We’re letting our sense of certainty grow with the baby’s actual chances of survival. When we actually hear the heartbeat in utero, we’ll cry tears of joy like the new parents we’re that much closer to becoming. When we feel the little one kick us through its mother’s belly, we’ll be overjoyed because of the miracle unfolding in our life. When we hold our newborn child for the first time, we’ll thank God for this unbelievable gift that he’s entrusted to us. We’ll pray for long life, and ask for the courage to savor each moment as it comes.

Mini-disclaimer: I recognize that there are many legitimate medical reasons to take a pregnancy test, and I am in no way arguing that anybody goes against the advice of a medical professional in this. Also, I recognize that the ritual of taking a pregnancy test is a source of great joy for many couples and I hope if you're one of these couples that my words don't unduly detract from your experience.

Keep Your Eyes Open!

Mindfulness isn't a word that many people use these days. It seems to have roots in Eastern religion; and colloquially means something like "focusing your attention on the present moment and the things happening immediately around you." I learned the word in Boston while I was traveling last year; I was telling a woman I'd just met that the reason I run without headphones is that I want to be fully present to my run; not trying to distract myself from it. She replied simply: "so it's about mindfulness for you." Mindfulness, I thought. That's a word I need to remember.

Of course, I'm terrible at practicing mindfulness. Some combination of my personality and my surroundings conspire to keep my attention drifting far away from me. Interest rates, internal rates of return, income-to-cost ratios, lease contracts, and a thousand other distant tiny details swirl around in my head and blind me to the thousand tiny details right here in front of my eyes.

My happiest moments are always when I'm present to the close details - a moonrise over the water on an island beach, a field of wildflowers in the high Rockies. This is why I hike: to surround myself with wide spaces that irresistibly draw my mind from my investment portfolio. This is why I run: I find speed brings an immediacy to my attention; I can't be bothered with interest rates when I'm seconds from tripping over that boulder.