Ok, kid.  I just found out I’m pregnant with you.
Did I give your dad the big reveal?  Something cute, like throwing some pastry in the oven and asking him to check on it?  Did I play some sort of game like “Guess why I’m giving you this baby related food item? haha isn’t this great?” Â
Instead, while out on an errand, I said, “You know, let’s go to Target and pick up some snacks.  I should probably get a pregnancy test, too.”  And he said, “Ok. . . . but. . . I’ll get the ice cream.  And uh. .  you can get in another line.”  You see, your dad is one of those nerdy guys who is extremely sweet and caring and would do anything to make me happy.  He’s also one of those nerdy guys who are prone to extreme embarrassment and can’t handle small talk.  I let him have his way, because who wants to watch a silent social meltdown?  Good thing I did, because the cashier had trouble scanning the test and did all sorts of hand acrobatics: waving the box in the air, rubbing it on the glass of the scanner, turning it over and over in her hand to find a functioning barcode.  I laughed.  Your dad, a few lanes away, turned away in embarrassment.
When we returned home, I downed a glass of water, went to the bathroom, and peed on a stick.  One line appeared.  So far so good.  I was so close to throwing the stick away when the second line appeared.  I said, “Wait. . . what. . “  Then I ran out of the bathroom, waving my pee stick in the air, sobbing.  Your dad went to hug me and I shrieked at him “What do I do with this?? It’s dripping!”  He hugged me anyway.  I told you your dad was a sweetheart.
Then I peed on the second stick, for good measure. Â Positive again.
The first rational thing I said was, “Ok, let’s wait until I can see a doctor to make sure I really am pregnant.  I don’t want to tell anyone until then.”  Haha, I’m so funny when I do the opposite of what I say.  We called everyone.  Your Uncle, your Grandma M, your Grandpa and Grandma J, your godparents.  Grandma E was so excited when we told her. .  then she told me she knew I must be pregnant because I was eating so much.  Like, way too much.  Thanks, Mom.
So kid, here’s to the next 8 months.  Let’s get along.  I’ll try to keep you healthy until you make your debut, you try to not make me puke my guts up.  Deal?
