"So what the heck. I've take 2 pregnancy tests already, there's one left in the box, I'll just take it," I mused. I sat the most advanced technology I'd ever pee on by the bathtub and brushed my teeth. It was almost 8am and Frank was already at work. I had to return to school in 3 weeks and I had a "nothing much" sort of day planned. Lately, I had been exhausted and sleeping until almost 1pm. I chalked it up to jet lag from the honeymoon a week and a half ago. I put my toothbrush away and reached for my pixie stick to throw it in the trash with its impotent bretheren. However, while reaching I noticed something new. Where before there had been but one lonely pink line, now there were two...or, one and a half. Does that pale little smudge count? It should. Shouldn't it? Only one person could answer that question. I threw on sneakers and a coat, grabbed my swizzle stick, threw it in a holiday penguins ziplock bag and headed toward the hospital. Thank goodness I had already brushed my teeth!
I had always imagined breaking my first pregnancy to my mother by scheduling an OB visit under a pseudonym. Ever since my mother switched careers, I have been trying to re-work my master plan. I arrived at the Labor Hall window and asked a familiar face if my mother was in. Discovering that she was safely tucked away in her call room, I solicited the help of the nurses. They hid me in an exam room and paged my mother to tell her there was a patient to see her. I shooed the nurses away, understanding their excitement since they had seen me grow up from "the baby in the basket" to the lady with a baby in her basket. They all scurried away and tried to look nonchalant as my mother approached. When the door opened, I held up my penguin baggie and asked, "What are you doing in April? Wanna deliver your grandchild?" I could see the curious eyes of the LH nurses peering into the room, beaming with pride and excitement.
Of course, my mother said yes and also confirmed that the powder pink line did, in fact, count. I wanted to come up with the perfect way to tell Frank but today was not the day. He had a work meeting out of town tonight and would not be able to totally enjoy the news. So, I had to hold the world's most amazing secret inside until tomorrow. I hurried home and wrapped up "The Caveman's Guide to Fatherhood" and a Father's Day card I had stashed away for just this occasion. Then, I hid them in the closet and waited for Frank to return home. That evening, I was itching to tell him, but I just couldn't. He leaned over to give me a kiss goodbye and I smelled peanut butter on his breath. "Did you have peanut butter?" I asked. He furrowed his brow, "No......wait.....I had a peanut butter cup this morning....at 7am. Why?" "I can smell it." I beamed; my wolverine senses were already coming in. He gave me that half smile/ half eye roll and said, "I love you," on the way out the door.
The next day, I paced and tried my best to look at my pregnancy test a maximum of once per hour. It seemed like Frank worked 39 hours that day (he probably felt that way, too). When he got home, we sat on the porch and I told him I had a surprise present for him. He unwrapped the book and said, ever so gallantly, "What like you mean I need this now?" I beamed and held up my tinkle twig. He grinned right back. He was clearly stunned since we both thought the honeymoon hadn't worked.
We went to bed that night knowing that we were finally everything we had ever wanted to be - parents!
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