Funny story: my dad has wanted me to have a baby fooorever.
No, but like, actually. Ever since I started dating my now husband, my dad would have these incredibly vivid dreams where he was holding my child. Or where I was telling him I was pregnant. Or where he was at a sporting event with his grandchild.
The man was OBSESSED with being a grandfather. And who can blame him? It is a wonderful thing!
And this is not to say that I ever felt pressure to have a baby – I always knew I wanted one, and I also was consciously aware that my parents and brother would be thrilled to have a baby in the family, but it’s not like it was a constant topic of conversation.
Then, one night in early 2019, my husband and I got talking and decided to start trying in the next few months to have a baby. We had been married for over a year at this point, together for 4, and we felt it was the right time in our lives to expand our family. But, the key thing was that we decided to properly try in the next few months…meaning like in April 2019 or something.
One thing led to another, though, and you know how these sorts of romantic moments in a relationship go. We *cough* got a bit carried away that night, what with all the excitement, and…yeah.
Anywho, moving on.
Fast forward to a month later. It’s February, the dreariest month of the year, and I feel like sh!t. Like honestly, I’ve never felt this way in my life. I’m exhausted, emotional, can’t stomach drinking tea for some reason and feel like I just want to lie down 24/7. And, oh yeah, I haven’t gotten my . in over a month, so there’s that.
I’m coming home from work one evening, standing on a packed subway, and I think randomly, “Why don’t I just take a pregnancy test?” It’s super unlikely, of course, because my husband and I aren’t really trying at all (we’re still waiting a few more months), but I feel weird and I might as well rule this out.
I walk home from the drugstore with my 4 pregnancy tests in hand (someone as OCD as me would never be able to trust the results of just one). I open the door, breathing heavily, downright petrified, and start chugging water to get my bladder going. I meticulously read the instructions of these pregnancy tests that cost me a small fortune (highway robbery!). And then, for the first time in my life, I pee in a cup. I dunk that little stick into it, set a timer on my phone and sit to wait.
In this teeny tiny waiting span, my phone rings. It’s my dad, asking if I want to have a quick coffee…he’s on his way home from work, passing by my place, and thought we could chat about my day since I’ve been so stressed lately.
I keep it calm and cool and earn that Oscar I always wanted when I was in high school. “Sure, I’d love a tea (*bleh!*), why don’t we meet at the local Starbucks?” He says he’ll be over in 30 minutes, and I glance at the 3 extra sticks sitting on my sink. Oh boy!
Surprise surprise, the first test is positive. Spoiler alert: I am in fact pregnant, but I still decide to take the 3 additional tests, all of which also read positive.
In that moment, I don’t panic. I don’t cry. I’m not anxious. I am happy and excited and kind of stunned. The severe anxiety will come later when my (now former) best friend tells me that she’s worried about me leaving our workplace for maternity leave but has decided not to get upset for the first 3 months of my pregnancy because, “Who knows? Anything could happen! Women have miscarriages all the time.” But that’s a story for another time. During this particular story, I have to somehow have coffee with my dad, who wants nothing more in life than to be a grandfather, without alluding to him that I am pregnant. Because, of course, I should probably tell my husband, the father of the baby, first, right?
I get through the coffee, a secret smile on my face. For that entire night, I am in awe and my husband and I are incandescently happy. As I said, the fear and guilt and uncertainty will come later, starting the next day, but in those moments of having coffee with my dad, I know deep in my heart that everything will be okay, will be just perfect, because this is the glorious baby we have all been waiting for.
It’s been 2 years since I found out I was pregnant that night, and when I look at my adorable 16 month old son, I know that initial joy was only the beginning!
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