An Anniversary of Sorts

I'm getting really emotional today (shocker!).  I absolutely love this time of year.  Not just because of the holidays and the snow and the sense of goodwill that seems to be especially strong among everyone about now, but because this was when I found out I was pregnant.  Which (if you've ready any of the last few entries) you know, was a defining moment in my life.  It was exactly two years ago today that my coworker Kristie told me at lunch, "You're pregnant. Go home and take a test." She knew me better than anyone in the office, but how on earth did she know that?  All I told her was that my chest was killing me and I must have some monster PMS going on.  She didn't even know we were trying.  Well, not trying, just not NOT trying.  Anyway, that's beside the point.

I spent some time writing about that exciting time in my life and here is an (slightly exaggerated - poor hubby wasn't quite this panicked, but he was no cool cucumber either!) excerpt of the recounting of this exact day, two years ago.
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This is not nearly as romantic as they make it out to be in the movies.  Taking a pregnancy test.  Peeing on a stick.  That's all you're doing.  And believe me, girls CAN'T aim.  How am I supposed to know if I've got this positioned correctly?  What a mess.

I carefully put the white stick on top of the box that it originally came out of.  That's the other thing.  After you pee all over this little plastic beast, where exactly are you supposed to set it to wait for the magic to happen?  I opted for the box because I really don't want to have to clean the bathroom sink again this week. 

I wash my hands slowly, figuring a little extra soap will make up for the my ungraceful test taking ability.  Can I wash my hands for 3 minutes?  Apparently not, since my cell phone alarm still hasn't gone off and I'm already finished drying my them on the towel next to the sink.  Couldn't hurt to take a sneak peek at the test, right? 

Oh holy crap.  Holy crap.  That's a second line.  That line was NOT there before.  For sure.  That's definitely a second line!!  Oh my God, I'm pregnant.  I'm pregnant! 

I'm pregnant??  Now what the hell do I do?  They don't tell you about this part...take a test, eat healthy, have a baby.  They tell you that, but nobody tells you exactly what to do in the precise moment following the biggest news of your life. 

I'll wing it.  I grab the little white stick that has just confirmed what I've been hoping for forever is true and with shaking hands, open the bathroom door. 

Hubby is watching TV on the couch in the living room.  Poor, unsuspecting Andy.  He just thought I really had to use the bathroom after my long commute home, when I dropped all my belongings, coat and shoes in the hallway just inside the front door and made a beeline for the bathroom.  Nope.  I'm about to set his world on its ear and he's wrapped up in an episode of The Daily Show with Jon Stewart. 

"Hey, Hubs?" My voice is shaking like it does when I speak in public.  What is wrong with me?  You wanted this!  You BOTH wanted this! Now buck up and tell him he's about to be a daddy.

"Hello?  Can you turn that off for a second?"  He grabs the remote, pauses his show and looks at me.  I hold up the test that I brought with me from the bathroom.  "I'm, um, I mean, we're pregnant."

Hubby stares blankly at me for a second before blurting out "Did you pee on that?" sounding disgusted. I look down at my hand. 

"Yeah?"  I say, more of a question than an answer to his question.

"Gross.  Go wash your hands."

Huh.  That is not how I pictured that going at all.  I head back to the bathroom, put the test back on top of the box and wash my hands again.

~~~
After washing my hands and heading back to face Hubby again, I was instructed to do the following:

1. Take another test.  There was no way a home pregnancy test could be correct...it must have been a false positive.  The second one proved positive just as quickly as the first.  I was EXTREMELY pregnant, apparently.

2. Tell no one.  He didn't believe that home pregnancy tests were reliable enough to prove that we were truly pregnant.  We had to confirm with a doctor before he wanted this news going farther than the two of us. Sure.  No problem, hon.  You have fun at hockey practice tonight.  I will just sit my little pregnant self down on the couch, watch some TV, and NOT tell a soul the biggest, most life altering news that I just received. 

I hear his car pull away from the garage downstairs and run for my phone as soon am I was certain he won't come back up and catch me in the act.

"Hey, Mom," I say as nonchalantly as possible. "How was your day?"  An evening phone call from me is nothing unusual.  I call my mom at least once a day just to chat. Just in the middle of her description of that morning's Bible study class, I quietly say, "I'm pregnant."

She keeps talking for a second.  I can actually hear the moment that the news registers with her though.  She goes silent.  "Wait...WHAT?! WHAT????  You're pregnant?  Oh!" followed by much squealing and little sniffles.  This is what I wanted.  Someone to celebrate with me!  Someone to understand how exciting this second pink line on that little plastic  truly is.  Not to be told to wash my hands.

I tell my mom about Hubby's reaction.  She points out what I know deep down is the truth: That he is probably being both cautious and scared by this news.  It's one thing to say "let's try for a baby" and it's another thing to say "we're having a baby."  Don't worry, he's just as excited as you are, she assures me.

~~~
She's right.  The next day as we're getting ready for work, Hubby sneaks up behind me and gives me a long hug.  "Call me after you talk to the doctor today," he says, smiling.  And I can tell by his smile that he's excited to find out when our twosome will become a threesome.