I’m Addicted to Peeing on a Stick

The pscyhological dangers of testing for pregnancy too early.

Frankly My Dear
5 min readSep 29, 2019


Photo by Phil Hearing on Unsplash

‘A line is a line,’ I remembered reading. ‘If you see a line, you are definitely pregnant.’

It was four days before my period was due and there was most definitely a faint purple line. It was our first time trying for a baby since the miscarriage in November last year. I was so excited I wanted to test right away. It felt like taking a peek at a Christmas present wrapped under the tree. You know you shouldn’t do it and that you’re spoiling the surprise but you just can’t help yourself.

I knew I shouldn’t test early…but I did anyway

So, I did the test. And there it was. The purplish line. Our very first try and we had done it. We had managed to fall pregnant. Christmas was coming.

I felt all the emotions you would expect of someone who had suffered pregnancy loss. Joy. Trepidation. Excitement. Caution. And fear. Oh so much fear. And the fear led me to…more tests. Twice a day for the next four days I peed on plastic sticks, needing to see that line, to get the reassurance that our baby was in there. It had all just seemed too easy. Even though logically I knew that a positive pregnancy test didn’t mean I wouldn’t miscarry again, there was something about seeing that line that brought me peace. So I persisted, knowing I was being an irrational eco-terrorist yet unable to stop myself all the same.

Photo by Jared Rice on Unsplash

We were heading to the beach for our anniversary (our dating anniversary — do other married couples celebrate this too?) and I was keen to use the time to relax and adjust to the idea that I was actually pregnant again. This baby was due a year from the exact date we miscarried our first baby and I wanted to believe it was a sign that the universe was gifting me back what it had taken. I was deeply looking forward to going away. I wanted to be quiet, still and alone with this man whose love had carried me through the worst time in my life and who now had helped me make the new beginning we so desperately wanted.



Frankly My Dear

Journalist & Features writer | Heartfelt storytelling about love, motherhood and life from a woman who’s been there.