So, We’re Pregnant

About 7:00am on Sat­ur­day morn­ing (Nov. 16th), Angela ran into the bed­room, threw off the cov­ers, and yanked me by the arm.

“Come here. You need to see this.”

Of all the thoughts run­ning through my head (not that many, since I was still most­ly asleep), none of them had any­thing to do with fam­i­ly. I nat­u­ral­ly thought some­thing was wrong or that she was angry with me (both hap­pen from time to time). Most­ly I just fig­ured the dogs were doing some­thing she want­ed me to see since that hap­pens a lot. How­ev­er, when she turned back around to me stand­ing at the sink hold­ing a lit­tle white plas­tic stick I was kind of shocked.

“Does that look like a plus sign to you?”

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, it real­ly does.”

“Okay. Lis­ten to this: ‘It does not mat­ter if the plus sign is light or dark. A plus sign means you are preg­nant.’ Hon­ey, I think we’re pregnant.”

“Oh! Well, okay then. We’re preg­nant. Wow, that did­n’t take long.”

I’ll spare you all the details, but here’s why I said that: we had sex with­out using con­tra­cep­tives twice. The hor­ror sto­ries you heard about get­ting preg­nant if you don’t use ‘pro­tec­tion’? The ones which you scoffed at say­ing it was so unlike­ly to hap­pen the first time or two that you need­n’t wor­ry? You were wrong, they were right. Appar­ent­ly we rolled some pret­ty amaz­ing dice on this one. Shoot me for say­ing so, but I so wished we’d put our pants on an dri­ven up to Atlantic city that morn­ing. Hey, we could have paid for a lot of dia­pers and pri­vate school. That’s all I’m saying…

Short­ly there­after, Angela noticed that the preg­nan­cy test she used had expired six months ago. She’d done some short research dur­ing phar­ma­cy school on var­i­ous preg­nan­cy tests and their effi­ca­cy but she was­n’t sure about how reli­able they were after their expi­ra­tion date. We decid­ed we’d try again the next day. That day was spent over in Char­lottesville with Meg and Travis. We went to a win­ery, out to lunch, on a short day-hike, and then out to din­ner. I know it had to suck for Angela to watch me sam­ple wines at the win­ery under the white lie that she had an upset stom­ach, so I don’t plan to do that to her in the future. We had sched­uled the win­ery vis­it some­time ear­li­er and did­n’t want to change plans at the risk of rais­ing sus­pi­cion. On the dri­ve home, we stopped off at the local 24 hour, chain phar­ma­cy to pick up anoth­er preg­nan­cy test.

The direc­tions said it could be used any time of day (most say morn­ing only) and might take up to three min­utes to pro­vide a result. Well, it turns out Angela is so preg­nant it took about thir­ty sec­onds to read “Preg­nant!” So, with­out any real doubt:

We’re hav­ing a baby!

Now, why all the screwed up time­line? Why am I writ­ing about some­thing just after it hap­pened and you did­n’t hear about it until some­time lat­er? Well, we’re only about a month preg­nant (or less) at this point. Right now, there’s some­thing small­er than a raisin in Ange­la’s low­er bel­ly and hav­ing nev­er gone through this before, we sim­ply don’t know what’s going to hap­pen to her body and with the preg­nan­cy. We’re hold­ing off on the news with pret­ty much every­one until Angela sees her doc­tor and has a check­up. Until then, we’re read­ing every book imag­in­able and try­ing to plan for some­thing we real­ly have lit­tle idea what to do for. Oth­er­wise, we’re real­ly excit­ed. Also, to tell the truth, I feel incred­i­bly guilty for not telling every­one. I want to so bad­ly but I also don’t want to try and assume too much.