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Running into baby talk all over the place today. First, let me formally-and-in-writing congratulateBismark on his news. Reading through the rest of your journal entries makes me think you�re going to be a good father. And I think you�d be either insane or very foolish to not be scared of the reality of the situation, but it sounds like you�re both in a good place about it. AND you�re gonna have a baby! How cool is that?!
I�d been thinking about it anyway, though, even before I read the other baby news. See, my period is late. Not hugely late�at this point it�s just a couple hours late. Which is truly nothing. And it wouldn�t weird me out at all (being just a couple hours late), except that the Boyfriend and I were just having a conversation, unrelated to anything else, about what we�d do if I were pregnant. And my mind works in circles. And I always wake up with it on every fourth Tuesday. And now it�s 10:00 a.m., and there�s no sign. Which is enough to make me wonder.
Once upon a time, it wouldn�t have been enough. That was before I got pregnant the first time.
It was the summer of 1996. The Artboy and I had been fighting off and on for months. It was all still Amanda fallout from New Year�s Eve, an ugly time for both of us. Not a period in my life I�m very proud of, I have to say. We�d almost broken up about 12 times, but were still together. The last fight we�d had was a huge one, but it had been the start of a healing process. I believe I got pregnant the night we made up, right before his birthday. We�d been together for just over a year.
I was in denial about it for a week. Convinced myself I�d miscounted or something. Tough to do when you�re on the pill, but it�s amazing what you can make yourself believe when you don�t want to face the truth. Finally, I bought a First Response stick test and locked myself in the staff bathroom at lunchtime. Nothing like peeing on a stick at work. It came back positive.
The next day, still having told no one but Melissa, I went to employee health and had a blood test. The tech who drew my blood was cheerful and clueless. "Ah, a pregnancy test? Is this your first?" Somewhere in the silence that followed her question, she took in my clenched fists, my pale countenance, my grave demeanor, and realized this was not a happy occasion. She didn�t say another word.
It was my friend Jim�s birthday. He was coming to the hospital to meet me for lunch. As he walked up to the desk, I was on the phone with the nurse. "Hi Jennifer, I have your results."
"And?"
"And the test came back positive. You�re pregnant."
I swallowed the acid in my throat long enough to mumble thanks, then hung up and ran to the bathroom, where I vomited back up the bagel I�d forced myself to eat an hour before.
I walked back out to the desk and made excuses to my boss about being ill, told them I was going to have Jim take me home. He was standing in front of the desk, waiting for my smiling "Happy birthday!" Instead, he got a "Hi�I need you to take me back to your house now. And I need you to not ask me any questions about why. I need to go talk to (the Artboy)." He just said okay, and we left. I didn�t come back to work for three days.
The bus ride back to the house was silent and uncomfortable. Jim wanted to know what was going on. I wasn�t talking. Period. Except to ask if the Artboy was home. He wasn�t�he�d gone to his parents� house to do some laundry before he had to work that night.
Jim isn�t stupid. It didn�t take much detective work to guess what was wrong with me. I apologized for ruining his birthday, told him I wasn�t joining him for dinner that night (we were all going to Marblehead for a party at another friend�s), and went inside to call the Artboy.
His mom answered the phone. I managed to keep from crying until she called to the Artboy. He picked up, already concerned. I never called him during the day, especially at his mom�s.
"Hello?"
"Hi. Are you almost done with your laundry?"
"I just put a load into the washing machine. Why?"
"I need you to come home. I need to talk to you, and I can�t do it over the phone. Please�come home."
He told me he�d be there in 45 minutes and hung up. I went up to his bedroom and curled up in a ball on his bed. I was shaking. I couldn�t cry. I couldn�t talk. I couldn�t think. All that was in my head was the nurse�s voice.
The Artboy came flying in the driveway 40 minutes later. When he walked in, I was in the bathroom. I came back and found him sitting on the bed, waiting for me. I crawled into his lap and took a deep breath.
"What�s wrong, Jennifer�just tell me�"
"Okay�well�my period was late, so I took a test today at the hospital, and it came back positive. I�m pregnant."
Everything froze for a minute while I waited for him to absorb the news. Then he wrapped his arms around me and pulled me in close. I suddenly discovered I could cry again.
We sat like that for several minutes, me curled against him crying, him rocking me slightly and holding on tight. Then he said, "I�m going to go downstairs and call work and tell them I�m not coming in. Then do you want to take a ride?" I nodded; he kissed me and walked out.
The first hard part was over.
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