Telling All

The fact that I couldn’t stop worrying about pregnancy was driving Mr. Book a bit crazy, so finally he just said “Why don’t you just go ahead and take a pregnancy test?” Somehow “I took one several days ago, and it was positive” didn’t seem like the right answer to that question—so I agreed that the next morning I’d test. And I did. It’s still strongly positive, which made my false positive/chemical pregnancy concerns less valid. Then I waited for the Mr. to wake up.

I’m not great at handling these moments, so it’s a good thing they don’t come along that often. I told him that I’d taken the test, he asked what the result was, and I handed it to him. He said that he didn’t know what it meant. (This threw me off my game slightly—it’s not as though it’s our first time to this rodeo, and I know I’ve explained it before.) So I said (and here we have a golden moment): “It’s positive, but it doesn’t matter, because I bet it’s going to die anyway.” I’m wincing a bit just typing this. So I told the Mr. that there’s no reason to take it seriously because, you know, the aforementioned, and that we shouldn’t worry about it.

Over the next couple of hours, I’m waiting for him to say something about how he feels, and he’s growing increasingly annoyed that I’m being twitchy and spooky. Finally I explain that the “It will probably die” thing isn’t science speaking, it’s me assuming that terrible things will happen, and that it’s actually more likely than not that the human bean will not die. He asks what that means. I say that I’m probably pregnant for real. Things are awkward, and then he goes to work. Before he leaves, though, he asks whether I’m going to tell my mom—I’m undecided, and he says that I should, with an unspoken “You really need to get it together on this issue, and I think she’s better equipped to help.”

So I called my mom, and she talked for a long time about how my Gramma is doing, and the trips they have planned, and I’m waiting for her to ask me “What’s new?” as she usually does, and finally I just blurt it out after an hour on the phone, and she is ecstatic. “Honey! Susie’s pregnant!” She wants to work out my due date, although I tell her that I’ve used a due date calculator already—she has an app on her iPhone, and wants to do it herself. She gets the same result that I did. I tell her that I worry that it’s going to die, and she says that she doesn’t think it will die, which makes me feel better. She asks whether she can tell people, and graciously agrees to hold off. She wants to know about names. She said “I’m finally going to be a grandma!” and I felt like I had a split second to decide whether to be hurt and opted not to. It’s just not worth it. She asked whether my husband and I had celebrated, and I suddenly wanted to cry. I mishandled that part pretty badly, and maybe telling him before work was the wrong thing to do. We both want a child, but he worries about money quite a bit, not unreasonably. After I hung up the phone, I put a bottle of sparkling apple juice in the fridge to drink out of champagne flutes when the Mr. Came home.

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10 thoughts on “Telling All

  1. I am not going to forget your mom looking the date up on the iphone app. Priceless.

    I also believe that one of the best, most humbling things about parenting (really, about life) is this: you actually get re-do’s. That’s why his counseling you to talk to your mom & your having put the sparkling juice in the fridge make me want to cry. Somewhere in there, we get it right enough. And then it’s better than even that.

  2. Susie, grab that bottle tonight and give the news all over again. Forget how he reacted or how you responded. Say it again. You’re pregnant. Don’t worry about anything. Let go. Start celebrating. You’re going to be a great mom. ((Hugs)) 🙂

  3. I’m sitting here smiling, reading these posts, and also wishing you well as you navigate all the worries/emotions/ups/downs at this exciting time.

  4. Oh Susie, my pregnancy with Noah was so rough because I’d had two miscarriages before and sometimes I’d think, “Oh we’re not doing this the way we should — we’re failing at the big symbolism…” When you come to life events from weird places (less common places), you bring so much more to it and it makes it all messier, I know. And I know that losing Cricket and then the chemical pregnancy make it so much harder to just have this clean happy free-for all and THAT IS OK. Life is messy and hard but you are wonderful and lovely and I know Mr. Book must be, too, because he is smart enough to love you and it’s ok if you somehow skew the big moments that Hallmark always seems to get right, you know? It means nothing. I hope I am saying this well but mostly I wanted to say how happy I am for you and how grateful I am to get to glimpse a very small part of your life!

  5. Congratulations! I hadn’t looked at your blog for a few days, so what a lovely surprise 🙂 I can understand your reluctance to relax and enjoy being pregnant, because I had 5 miscarriages. By the last one, I did tell people early on and try and enjoy it because it doesn’t change a thing if you’re happy or sad, but at least I got to share the joy with people for a few days, rather than just tell them I’d miscarried again. I’m also intrigued to see Mr Book supporting that digital pg test commercial that says how many (women, actually) people misread a traditional pregnancy test 😉

    Enjoy toasting each other with your apple juice later, and good luck on this new path.

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