Nothing Says Pregnant Like Indian Food

I could barely stand it - my morning trying to work before telling John. Luckily, he was in exams so he had a half day at school and was coming home midday to study. As is often the custom during exam week, I suggested we meet for lunch. He called me close to lunch time and said that maybe he should just grab something fast and study. I panicked and pulled the - hey - everyone else left for lunch and I didn't bring anything routine, and he relented. He picked me up and we went for Indian, which we both love. I was pleased-it was fairly deserted inside so I knew we'd be able to talk (and he would have plenty of room to pass out if necessary).

Now let me say something important here. All these pregnancy books talk about how your husband will take the news and how to make sure he will be excited and interested and all the like.

This is NOT my husband. This is the man who, before we were married, would read Obstetrics and other medical books for fun at nighttime while I devoured my mindless chick books or the rare latest bestseller or hip book du jour. And for this, I am grateful.

So I was more worried about doing it a cool way versus his reaction. I told him I had a gift for him for exam week, and he opened the bag to find a stuffed Eeyore. The reaction was pretty much, thanks, but I don't get it. I said oh, you know, exams are hard, you may want to cuddle it when exams are bad. I added that there was something else in the bag. He pulled out the Sticks, both clearly saying means PREGNANT. And his reaction was pretty much like mine - excited and incredulous.

We both had said that we would take it as it comes and let fate do the rest.

Thanks, fate.

One Shot Wonder

So I turned 37 this year. I don't feel 37. I don't act 37 (well, ok, so I am professional and respected by my clients, I still wear alternating color toenail polish). We spent my birhtday weekend on St. Simons and on the drive back, again talked about when it was time to get on the proverbial bandwagon to think about producing some non-corgi offspring.

John and I agreed to pretty much not necessarily try...but not try NOT to try. I'd been off the pill for a few months and it hadn't been an issue, with a busy me and a husband who is in school from 6am to 6pm and in bed by 9, while I am a night owl. So that was pretty much that, and I started taking folic acid. You know. Just in case. I started doing a little reading. You know. Just in case.

After a certain sunday afternoon - ahem - study break for John (waca waca), I consulted my already created Excel calendar. You know just to check. And thought, hm, timing could be interesting.

A week goes by. I look at the spreadsheet a few times and think again, hm.

A week goes by. My boobs start hurting and I think, hm, this normally doesn't happen until about 5 days before the proverbial Aunt Flo. I know I should start on Monday or Tuesday since I am normally (shocker) like clockwork. I decide not to obsess about it until that Monday.

Monday cometh. No Flo.

I stopped at CVS and bought a two-pack of First Response, figuring I would go with the one with the March of Dimes logo - as we'd done work for them, I thought the client karma would be good. I went to bed...thinking well, Flo often arrives late night (also a night owl, apparently). Flash forward to 2am...and I go for The Stick. Here's how it went down.

I do my deal, and sit there, watching the magical control line appear. And then that was it. I waited another moment or two to make sure nothing else dramatic happened. Not so much. Wait...did I see a light pink line showing up? "No way. Is it? Nahh. That is *so* light. It's probably just from the test itself. I'm going to bed."

7am. I scan the instructions again just enough to note the mention of "even if the line is light, you are pregnant". Hm. Again, with the second stick. Same deal. Another light line. This just might be the real deal. I was incredulous, and that pretty much sums it up.