I pretend to be asleep while Phillip gets ready for work, but the second I hear the garage door shut, I jump out of bed, peek out the bathroom window to watch him drive down the street, and then run to the closet, get the test out, and read the instructions.
Remove the stick. Take off the cap. Then, either pee on the stick for five seconds or pee into the cup.
Which do I want to do?
Cup.
I sit on the toilet.
And then start crying.
I don’t know what I want.
I run through the living room, grab the pregnancy book, bring it in the bathroom, and reread the part about how you shouldn’t drink when trying to conceive.
I mentally calculate the number of alcoholic drinks I had on our honeymoon. The martinis, champagne, and beer consumed at the wedding.
I don’t know what I want.
But, now, I really have to pee, so I go in the cup.
Then, I put the stick in and start counting.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Five.
I take the stick out, put the cap back on, and lay it down on the counter.
Now, I have to wait for three long minutes.
I flush.
Wash my hands and set the timer on my phone.
Reread the instructions two more times.
One pink line = Not pregnant.
Two pink lines = Pregnant.
One dark pink line + one light pink line = Pregnant.
I’m not even going to think about looking at it until the three minutes are up.
I stare at the seconds counting down on my phone’s timer.
Two minutes left.
Shit.
I peek.
There are two faint pink lines.
I look at the instructions again, wondering if they turn pink first but then the second one disappears.
But the two lines just seem to be getting darker.
Holy shit.
I think I might be pregnant.
I smile and then start crying again.
The doctor’s office opens at nine, so I start calling at eight forty-five. I call every minute until finally someone answers at eight fifty-seven. I tell them I just moved to town, am best friends with Lori and Danny Diamond—yes, I used his name on purpose—might be pregnant but might not be depending on if these ninety-nine percent accurate tests are really that accurate, and that I need to be seen today.
Like, now.
Preferably right now.
This very second.
She squeezes me in at two o’clock.
I hop in the shower to get ready for work, place my hand across my stomach, peek out of the shower to make sure the two pink lines are still there, and wonder if it could be true.
Could I really be pregnant?
I lie to Phillip and tell him I have to go to some showroom to look at bathroom fixtures for the new building. Truth is, I’ve had them picked out since before the wedding.
In the OB-GYN’s waiting room, I’m surrounded by women with big pregnant bellies, and by the time I fill out all the paperwork, pee in another cup, give some blood, and get in to see the doctor, I’ve convinced myself the home pregnancy test must have been faulty. I can’t be pregnant.
“So, I understand the lines turned pink,” the doctor says after introducing himself.
“Yes.”
“And what was the date of the first day of your last period?”
“Um, Christmas Day. December twenty-fifth.”
He picks up a little chart and spins it around. “That means you’re due October the first.”
“Due? As in I’m pregnant?”
He squints his eyes at me. “Yes, home pregnancy tests are quite accurate. You’re definitely pregnant. Five weeks along today.”
“But I’m on the pill.”
“Did you take it regularly?”
“Yes, but I took antibiotics last month.”
“Well, there you have it. They can sometimes lessen the pill’s effectiveness.”
“I’m a few days late, but I had some spotting the other night, and I thought it was my period. But then it stopped.”
“It’s not uncommon to have spotting.”
“But I didn’t plan on getting pregnant,” I mutter.
“You’re not happy about your pregnancy?” he asks.
“Not only was I on the pill, but I also just got married two weeks ago. I drank every single day of our honeymoon. What if I’ve already ruined our baby?” I get tears in my eyes. I don’t want our baby to be ruined.
The doctor pats my back. “Being on the pill when you get pregnant does not increase the risk of birth defects. And it’s also not uncommon for women to have alcohol before they realize they are pregnant. Back when my mom was pregnant with me, women would smoke and drink alcohol while pregnant. I turned out fine.”
“But, now, we know better, right?” I say. “That can lead to low-birth-weight babies.”
“You’ve been doing some reading,” he says with a smile.
“A little.”
“So, while it’s hard to tell for sure, you probably conceived around the eighth of January.”
“Oh my God. That was the night …”
“Did something bad happen?”
“Yes. No.” I start to cry again. “It started out bad, but then it ended up good. Like, it was a really special night. I fell asleep and dreamed of fireworks. Could I have known?”
“Some women say they know when they conceive.”
“Except I don’t have many symptoms. Only two.”
“Which two?”
“I’m tired and nauseous.”
“Just like no two people are alike, no two pregnancies are alike.”
“So, I’m really, truly, honestly, actually pregnant? Like, for real?”
“Yes, Jadyn, you are,” he says, making a note in my file. Probably something about my mental stability.
“Wow,” is all I can say.
I leave the doctor’s office, planning to go straight home. I can’t go back to work because I’m dying to tell someone, and I’m afraid I’ll blurt it out to the first person I see.
I have to tell someone.
Or I’m going to burst!
But I don’t want to blurt it out to anyone but Phillip.
But how should I tell him? I remember Lori calling me after the lines turned pink. How she told us before she told Danny. I don’t want to do that. I want Phillip to be the first person to know.
And I want to do something special.
I go home and search the internet for ways to tell your husband you’re pregnant. What I find is thousands of videos.
I watch a bunch of them. The reactions of the husbands are varied, ranging from tears to disbelief to jumping with joy to a whole lot of, Are you serious?
I try to imagine Phillip’s reaction. He’s going to be shocked. I’m still in total shock, and I’ve had a few hours to let it sink in.
I consider the different ways to tell him. Lots of the videos involve things like signs, cakes, dinners, the positive pregnancy test, baby bottles, booties, and rattles. One told the soon-to-be father on his birthday.
We are having a Super Bowl party this weekend. Could I tell him before everyone arrived?
No, that’s six days away.
Six very long days.
No way I can wait.
When a text from Phillip flashes on my phone, I jump, feeling like I’ve been caught. That he could somehow know.
I read his text.
Mac Daddy Loves You: Did you get ahold of Lori’s doctor?
Me: Yes. They had an opening today, so I went.
Mac Daddy Loves You: Awesome. Did we get the green light?
Me: You could say that.
I notice he changed his name in my phone from Phillip Baby to Mac Daddy Loves You.
Ohmigawd. That’s it.
I call Danny.
“Hey, is there a place where I can get a couple of custom football jerseys made?”
“Yeah, I drive by a shop on the way to training. Let me look it up, and I’ll text you the address.”
“Thanks.”
“What are you doing?”
“Oh, just getting shirts made for the Super Bowl,” I lie.
“I heard the parents invited themselves.”
“I heard that, too. And Chelsea and Joey are coming down.”
“Did you know they hooked up at your wedding?” he asks me.
“I kinda assumed. What do you know?”
“They danced in Vegas at the bachelor/bachelorette party.”
“I remember that. But she had a boyfriend.”
“Who she brought to the New Year’s Eve couple’s shower,” Danny says. “But whom she did not kiss at midnight.”
“Ohmigawd, Danny. Did she kiss Joey?”
“Well, Joey kissed her. I guess he grabbed her right before the countdown, pulled her into the bathroom, and told her that, at midnight, she should kiss the guy she was going to be with all year.”
“That’s so romantic. I can’t believe she didn’t tell me!”
“She showed up at the rehearsal dinner single. He tried to sleep with her that night, but she shut him down.”
“But not the night of the wedding?”
“Definitely not the night of the wedding. Their first time was in a hotel bathroom. Now, they’re dating.”
“What do you think of them together?”
“You know I think Chelsea is a cutie. I told him he’d better not just be telling her all that stuff if he didn’t mean it.”
“And what did he say?” I ask.
“He says she’s the one.”
“They caught the garter and the bouquet. I never thought that really worked. Do you think they will be the next ones to get married?”
“I wouldn’t marry them off just yet. They’ve been dating for all of two weeks now. That’d be crazy.”
I cough.
Danny chuckles. “You and Phillip were different.”
“I’m just giving you a hard time. You know, Joey and Chelsea made out a couple of years ago at a party, and then he never called her.”
“Sounds like he’s calling her now. He’s hot for her.”
“Okay, I gotta go,” I say, knowing I need to get off the phone before I accidentally blurt out that I’m freaking pregnant. “Talk to you soon. Thanks for the address.”
“You know we’re coming over for dinner tonight.”
“You are?”
“Yeah, you told us we could use your kitchen, remember? Demolition started this morning, and we’ll be over pretty much every day until it’s done. Pray it’s finished before the baby gets here.”
I think about how I was going to surprise Phillip with the shirts tonight.
Naked.
“Um, I’m still not feeling well. I’m not sure Lori should be around me when I’m sick.”
“She was already around you when you were sick.”
“Fine. I have a little surprise planned for Phillip tonight. A naked kind of surprise.”
“You have your period. Couldn’t be that good of a surprise.” He laughs. “I’m stopping to pick up ribs.”
“But, Danny, we’re newlyweds. We’re supposed to eat naked.”
“Hey, I’m cool with naked. Whatever.”
“Danny.”
“Tell you what. We’ll leave right after dinner, so you can have your newlywed fun. I’ll even get you some extra barbecue sauce to take to bed.”
“Don’t mention that in front of Lori,” I tease. “You know how she’s been craving barbecue.”
“She has? Scratch that. I’m keeping the sauce for myself.”
At dinner, I can’t stop smiling. I’m so afraid one of them is going to notice and ask me why. And I don’t think I’d be able to lie about it.
Thankfully, Danny is true to his word and herds Lori out the door after dinner.
I run into the closet, strip down to my underwear, and pull on the football jersey I bought.
Then, I grab the present I wrapped for Phillip and set it on the bed.
“Hey, Phillip,” I yell over the TV. “Will you come in here?”
I position myself on the bed. The jersey is riding up and exposing my long legs. The V-neck is pulled down as far as it can go.
“What are you wearing?” he asks as he comes through the door.
“A football jersey. The Super Bowl is this weekend, you know.” I thrust the present at him. “Here, open this.”
He picks the box up and shakes it. But then he tosses it aside and slides his hand under my jersey. “I think I’d like to open this first.”
I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him on the cheek. “I’d like that, too, but not until you open your present.”
His hand sneaks further up. “You don’t have a bra on. You gonna wear it like this to the party?”
“I’m going to cancel the party if you don’t open your present.”
Oh my God.
Please!
Open. The. Present.
I’m going to burst!
He kisses me instead.
The boy has a one-track mind.
I push him away. “Phillip, please! Stop! I need you to open the present! It’s important!”
He’s a little taken aback. “Uh, okay. Sorry. You’re just so sexy; I can’t keep my hands off you.”
I feel bad for yelling at him, but I can’t take it any longer.
I grab his hand. “Phillip, before you open it, I just want to tell you that I love you. And that …” Tears pool in my eyes and fall onto my cheeks when I blink. “Um, just that I love you.”
He tilts his head, trying to understand why I’m crying. “I love you, too, Princess. What’s wrong?”
“I’m just excited for you to see what I got you. It’s something pretty special.”
I laugh to myself, thinking how everyone kept using the word special on the night Phillip surprised me by proposing.
He leans back, grabs the present, sets it on my lap, and removes the bright blue-and-fuchsia-polka-dot bow.
“Really colorful,” he says as he rips into the yellow wrap and opens the box. “Sweet! You got us matching jerseys. You know Danny’s gonna give us crap though. He sent me some hilarious video showing married couples dressed the same—”
“Our shirts aren’t exactly the same,” I interrupt.
“They’re not?”
“Well, as you can see, mine has black glitter letters. Yours has black embroidery with white trim. And look at the back.”
He holds up his shirt.
“Mac Daddy. Nice.” He sets it down and kisses my neck. “Your Mac Daddy wants to take your jersey off.”
“Don’t you want to see the back of mine?”
“Can I see it when it’s lying on the floor?” He grabs the hem of my shirt, ready to strip it off me.
“No!”
“Fine,” he says, picking me up, flipping me over, and pinning me on the bed. “Mac Mommy? Oh, I get it, like I’m the daddy, and you’re the mommy.” Then, after a few beats, he goes, “Uh, wait. Actually, no, I don’t get it.”
I smile at him over my shoulder, hoping it will sink in, while taking the opportunity to sit back up. I cross my legs in front of me and stare at him, a wide smile on my face.
He squints his eyes. “Wait. You went to the doctor today about us having kids.”
I pull another item out of the box and hand it to him. “I did. Because this happened.”
He looks down at the pregnancy test, the two pink lines still clearly visible. “What is this?”
“It’s the pregnancy test I took this morning. I’m pregnant, Phillip.”
“But you got your period!”
“I thought I did. I saw blood and assumed that’s what it was. But the next morning, it was gone.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I didn’t want to get your hopes up again. That’s why I borrowed Lori’s pregnancy book.”
He puts both hands on his head. “I can’t even believe this. You’re sure?”
“Yes. Did you notice the numbers on our shirts?”
“I’m ten. You’re one.”
“That’s our due date. October the first. Can you even believe it?”
He shakes his head. “No, I really can’t.”
I panic. “Did you change your mind? Do you not want me to be pregnant now?”
“No! I’m thrilled!” He grabs me and kisses me hard. “I think I’m in shock.”
“I cried at the doctor’s office. I was pretty shocked, too.”
“Good shock though. Really good shock.” He wraps me in his arms and hugs me tight. “Holy smokes. We’re going to have a baby.”
I start crying again.
“I’m so happy you’re happy,” I blubber.
“Princess, I thought our wedding day was the happiest day of my life.”
“You told me that afternoon we spent in bed on our honeymoon topped it.”
“You just topped them all. God, I love you.” He kisses my face again. “We’re really going to have a baby?”
“I love you, too, Phillip. And apparently so.”
“I’m going to spoil you rotten. The baby, too.” He gently lifts up my jersey and places his palm across my belly. “Wow. So, how far along are you?”
“Five weeks.”
“Already?”
“Yeah. And get this. Based on some magic chart the doctor had, he said we probably conceived on January eighth.”
“That was the day you called off the wedding,” he slowly states.
“And the day you asked me to marry you again.”
“And then we went home.”
“Yeah … and then we went home.”
“To an incredible night filled with love,” he says.
“It was the first time we really made love.”
“It’s perfect. You’re perfect. Have you told anyone else? Is that why Danny and Lori left so early?”
“I told Danny I had something naked planned to get them to leave early.”
“No wonder he punched my shoulder and told me to have a good night.”
“Phillip, nothing ever seems real until I tell you. I had to tell you first.”
