The second line slowly starts fades into view.

No. No, no, no, no, no. No. This can't be happening.

"Does that mean it's positive?" Ben asks, tears in his eyes.

Happy tears, I might add. He's always wanted to be someone's dad. I, on the other hand, could not be more terrified. I wasn't supposed to be able to get pregnant. More than one doctor told me so. Promised me I wouldn't be able to.

The line on the pregnancy test gets darker and darker. "That's certainly positive." I say, trying not to sound all doomsday. Who knew that two little blue lines could change your life forever.

"But that wasn't supposed to be possible." Ben is on his knees now, staring directly at my belly like it's some sort of priceless artifact.

Which I suppose it is, considering I have just one fallopian tube and an army of cysts that supposedly made my uterus 'uninhabitable,' as my doctor told me. This must be one hell of an embryo to have found a way to survive my allegedly barren womb.

"Should I take another one?" I look over at the stack of positive tests piling up on the counter. Pink dye, blue dye, digital, test strips. They all say the same thing: Overwhelmingly positive.

"I think we have our answer," Ben is actively crying now, tears fall down his face in a steady stream. He looks up at me and smiles with such a gleeful smile. "We're going to have a baby."