Breaking the News

When I was younger, I dreamed of having a brood or 5 or 6 kids. When we were engaged, Steve and I agreed that 2, maybe 3 more, in addition to Tasha, would be more than enough. After we got married, we discovered that my body wasn't working from the same playbook as my heart. 5 pregnancies and one amazing kiddo later, we gave up trying. That was 7 years ago.

So when the doctor told me "You might want to sit down for this", being told that I'm pregnant at 41 was the last thing in the world I expected. In fact, being pregnant was so far from my mind that when the doctors asked if I could be pregnant, I had said "No way!" every time. HA!

Far from being over the moon happy about being pregnant, I was in shock and I was scared. The first 5 things that popped into my head in rapid succession were:

1. You're kidding me!
2. Phew! Thank God it's not cancer!
3. How's Steve going to take it?
4. How am I going to tell him?
5. I don't think we can go through this again

Owen came immediately to mind. Steven and I both had a really hard time with his death and the thought of going through an experience like that again is terrifying, especially now with Tasha and Jonas. Besides fighting my own worst fears, I was really worried about his reaction. He and I have come a long way, and we're stronger than we ever have been, but unexpected news like this could shake that by bringing back all those memories and fears.

After a month of feeling like death, and a few fruitless doctor's appointments, I did an EPT at the office on Thursday July 5th. The test said I was very pregnant, and the doctor agreed, but I waited until Sunday to tell Steve. It was Jonas's birthday and our families were coming to town to celebrate. That was enough, I thought, to deal with for a few days. I needed to figure out how to tell him and I knew we would both need some time to digest the news. The middle of a birthday party was not going to give us that. Besides, we would have the house to ourselves after the party because Jonas was going to spend the week with his Grandparents. So, I circled Sunday on the calendar and tried to stay upright and awake until the party was over. (Special thanks to Karen for picking up my slack at the party. I couldn't have done it without you!)

When Sunday night rolled around, I swallowed the lump in my throat and blurted it out as soon as we were alone. There was dead silence in the room for the longest 2 seconds ever, as we stared at each other and he tried to translate my words into something he could understand. I dreaded what was coming next but, again, I couldn't have been more wrong. He gave me the biggest hug ever, told me loved me and that no matter what happened we'd get through it together.

I love that man!

Cheers!