“What is that?” I thrust the test at my husband, my whole body vibrating with…fear? Anticipation? Confusion? My husband, who had been asleep moments earlier, blinked at me before he gazed down at the small pink lines glaring back at him. A few long weeks later, I sat on a cold examination table staring at a television monitor. “Yep, there it is,” my OB-GYN exclaimed as she handed me the ultrasound photo. “Congratulations!” I stared at it: my tiny peanut at eight weeks’ gestation. I was going to have a baby!

Yet a subtle sense of uncertainty lingered. Honestly, I felt lost and terrified. Everything seemed new: the symptoms, preparing for birth, and bringing a baby home. Could I care for someone so fragile? I wouldn’t get the answer until a few months after giving birth.

Calling my baby a surprise fails to convey it, yet I remained in awe of him throughout my prenatal term and remain so even now. I made that. From his eyes and heart to his little feet and mischievous grin. We can say a lot about the female anatomy, especially when it comes to childbearing. Before I was expecting, I pictured what the experience might be like. You come across stories, and see them portrayed on TV, and a picture forms in your mind of what it could look like on you. Let me tell you: I was mistaken.

Initially, I remained unaware that some symptoms I experienced could point to being with child. You learn about the usual ones: morning sickness, tender breasts, missed periods. What about cramps lasting for weeks? Or drowning in your own mucus? I persuaded myself that something was seriously wrong. My mom suggested I take an at-home test. I didn’t even consider it because I’d been dealing with an irregular period for a year. I needed to take a hormone pill to induce my menstrual cycle every three months. They checked me for PCOS and did some tests. I have yet to know why my body just stopped having a period before picking up like nothing happened last July. It returned as if everything were normal.

I conceived in September. Pregnancy is the biggest miracle I’ve ever had the honor of experiencing. I’m not ashamed to admit I experienced a little gender disappointment at first. I worried I wouldn’t be able to bond with him because he wasn’t a girl, like me. But creating a living being inside my body is the most magical thing I have done in my life. The more he grew, the more in love I became.

When I was thirty-five weeks pregnant, my husband made us an appointment with a local ultrasound boutique. I’d never heard of such a thing, but it was a forty-minute session where they took high-quality photos and videos of my little one and gave me a stuffed bear with his heartbeat inside. I sat in the most awkward positions while the technician moved warm jelly across my stomach, trying to get the best pictures of my boy. “Is he sucking his toe?” My sister had asked towards the end of our session. My son lay scrunched in a ball. He had one foot in his mouth and a hand across his face. He wasn’t having any of our shenanigans, since it was his naptime.

But pregnancy is hard. I don’t remember being so afraid in my entire life. Scared for myself and for the child growing inside me. So many things can go awry. I often think too much; I’d worry myself sick wondering if my baby still maintained a heartbeat. Once I had progressed far enough, I would hold my breath for each fluttering kick. As the time passed, my anxiety grew. Every unfamiliar sensation or symptom would throw me for a loop. Is this cause for concern? I started a list of things to talk to my doctor about.

Then, my blood pressure went all wonky, and they tested me for pre-eclampsia. Receiving normal lab work results flooded me with relief. A week later, the doctors received my blood glucose test and diagnosed me with gestational diabetes. Talk about a sucker punch to the gut. I had the impression I had failed somehow. Maybe I did something wrong.

Thus, I plunged into the rabbit hole, unraveling everything about gestational diabetes and its significance for my baby and me.

Editor: Lucy Cafiero