So... what happens now?

Saturday, February 18th began like many other Saturdays around our house. Ryan and I both woke up with a bit of a wine hangover after drinking some bottles with my brother the night before, but nothing too serious. I got up and headed out to a local store where I work a couple days a week as a merchandise buyer so that I could get some work done. On the way, I got this unbelievable urge to stop at McDonald's for a hash brown. Craving greasy food after a night of drinking is certainly nothing new, but my craving was particularly strange because (believe it or not), I had never actually eaten a hash brown before that point. When I got to the store, I immediately chowed down on my hash browns and began texting Ryan that they were the most amazing thing I have ever eaten and how I couldn't believe that I waited 31 years to eat one. As the morning went on, I began feeling sicker and sicker with each passing hour. I knew I didn't drink enough to warrant a hangover like this, so I was a little concerned as to what was going on. I hung around until about 1:00 when I decided that I was way too miserable and decided to head home.

On the way home, I had to run by Target to pick up a gift and some cake supplies for a 3 year old's birthday party that we were attending the next day. On a whim, I decided that maybe a pregnancy test was also in order. I guess I should mention here that I was 3 days late at that point. You can seriously set your watch by my cycle - is is THAT regular. But, I had been working out like crazy for the last 4-6 weeks and I know that that can screw up your cycle so I honestly didn't think much of it.

When I got home, my brother was doing some work on his computer (he was in town staying with us for the weekend) and Ryan had gone to the office for a few hours. I came in and made a little small talk with my brother while the pregnancy test was burning a hole in my Target bag. I headed off to "change clothes" and hurried into the upstairs guest bathroom to get the show on the road. (Because it is finished and painted and pretty and the master bath is not. If this was happening I wanted to remember it in a pretty space. Duh.) So, I did the deed and sat the test on the counter while Carter (our dog, for people who don't know me) and I waited through the 45439853 day wait that it took the test to be finished. In all honesty, it was about 30 seconds later that I saw a big red plus sign in the test window. I think I read the instruction sheet about 37 times before accepting that the plus means that your oven does indeed have a bun in it.

My immediate reaction was... "what now? WHAT DO I DO NOW?" So I exited the bathroom and literally paced around our master bedroom for several minutes. If I went downstairs for too long, I would have told my brother. I just can't contain information like this. So I sat on our bed with Carter and decided to text Ryan to see when he would be home. He said he was about 10 minutes away. So that basically meant that I had TEN MINUTES to come up with an uber-creative and oh-so memorable way to tell him that he was going to be a daddy. You don't understand. Every part of my life is planned out and calculated. Something as big as this couldn't just happen without some sort of grand presentation. With only 10 minutes and a brain that was only functioning at about 30%, I knew there wasn't much I could do. So, I ran downstairs to get a package that he had received from Amazon that day and I took it upstairs to put the test in it. The package was some lame gardening stuff and some toys for Carter, so not something I would normally open before he got home. Basically, I opened the box, moved some stuff and put the test underneath. That was about the time I heard the garage door open.

He was home for about 2 minutes while I sat upstairs listening to him talk about college basketball games with my brother before I yelled for him to come upstairs. (Side note: he later told me that he knew when I asked him to come upstairs that I was going to tell him that I was pregnant. Weird.) When he came into the room, I closed the door, and this awkward conversation followed:

Me: "You got your package from Amazon. Here it is." (That's when I gave him the wide open box. Re-sealing it might have been a better idea)

Ryan: "Ooookaaaay....?"

Me: "Well don't you want to see what you got?"

Ryan: (no words, just a look that said, "I ordered it. I know what I got.") He finally obliged and took the stuff out and found the test. He looked at it and said "what does this mean?"

Me: "Well, I wouldn't put a test in there to confirm that I'm NOT pregnant.. so.."

He then gave me the biggest hug and his eyes got all misty (he still denies this but trust me, there was mist.) And when he finally spoke, all he said was... "So, what happens now?? What do we do??"

Clearly, I did not have the answer because I was just asking myself the same question. After a few minutes of chit chat, we decided that we had to tell my brother. In normal circumstances, I would NEVER tell someone other than my husband that I was pregnant approximately 20 minutes after discovering it. But, there was no way around it. Since he is a doctor, I took the test and the instruction sheet downstairs and told him I needed his professional opinion on something. I laid them on the table while I watched him look back and forth and he finally said, "Well. Uh... Holy shit. I think it means you're pregnant." Ha! Definitely a good reaction in my book. So we all hung out and talked about this little revelation for a while and then watched the UK Basketball game. I don't remember one second of the game or even who we played - and if you know me, you know that really is saying something.

The reason that my brother was in town was that he had bought Ryan tickets to see Anthony Bourdain in Louisville for his birthday back in August. The event was taking place that night. So at about 4:30, or 2 hours after getting the biggest news of my life, THEY LEFT ME. I knew it going to happen and of course I wanted them to go, but seriously? This is not really the day that I want to be alone. To make matters worse, I had taken the other test from the box right before they were leaving and it was just barely positive, a very very very faint plus sign. I watched Ryan look at the second test several times before he left and I knew we were both experiencing a rollercoaster of emotions. So there I was, pregnant, (or maybe not pregnant?), super emotional, and alone. It totally sucked. I also had to make the birthday cakes for my friend's little girl's party that night, which I thought would be a good distraction. It is something I generally love doing, but my mind was anywhere but in the kitchen that night. It was so difficult to get everything finished and I definitely had a few crying spells and freakouts throughout the process. (Another funny thing I want to remember - I didn't want anything for doing the cakes but my friends paid me in a liquor barn gift card so I could buy some wine - Ryan and I had some great laughs about that and I can't wait to tell them!)

After the cakes were finished, I decided I needed some comfort food so I got some Fazoli's take out and came home to watch reality TV and relax. Instead of relaxing, I decided that I HAD to tell my mom. I just couldn't handle it. I called her and learned that my sister, her husband and my nephew were at her house having dinner. So I told her that I really needed to tell her something and I needed her to NOT react out loud because I really didn't want the whole family knowing right away, and not like this. So I tell her, "Mom I have some bad news." My mom is quite a reactive person so she gasps and sort of whispers "Oh no. What? What's wrong?" So I said, "I'm afraid you're going to have another person to buy Christmas presents for this year." There was a looooong pause on the line and then she finally whispered, " Seriously? Really? Oh... my baby!! Oh I am so excited." So we talked in code for a few more minutes and she said she would call me back when everyone left her house. Feeling just generally exhausted physically and emotionally from the day, I decided to go lay in bed at about 9:00. Carter and I laid in bed watching a marathon of some show I had never seen called "Jane by Design" on ABC Family. My mom finally called me back and we talked for awhile and then I was back to my emotional rollercoaster. I literally laid in bed and cried and talked to Carter while he just listened and licked the tears off my face. This is not a new event in our house. If I'm crying, even over a movie, no matter where he is in the house he knows it and will immediately run to be with me and take care of the tears. He's the best therapist I've ever had, and the only one I would ever allow to lick my face.

Finally at about 10:30, Ryan calls to tell me that they are headed home and that they are going to stop and get a digital pregnancy test on the way. So basically, my husband and my brother go to Wal-Mart at around midnight on a Saturday and buy only a box of pregnancy tests. I would love to know what the cashier was thinking. I barely remember them coming home because I had been sleeping on and off. I talked to Ryan for a little bit and then we both went to sleep.

The next morning, I woke up at about 6:30 and had to pee (which I do approximately 93 times a day now). I was also anxious to get up and take the digital test because I had to know for sure. So, again, I did the deed and put the test on the counter. This one said it takes three minutes and it definitely took at least 3 minutes. When the time was up, this was what I saw...

Needless to say, I ran back into the bedroom to show Ryan. As I am writing this 11 days later, I still can't believe this is all happening!