Sunday marked the one-year anniversary of the day we found out I was pregnant. What a great day.
We were waiting until Saturday to take the test, and I did first thing that morning. Tim waited patiently in the bedroom.
“So?” he asked.
“I can’t tell,” I said. “There might be a line there.” I brought the stick down the hall so he could inspect it himself. My heart pounded. “See? There’s kind of a line there, but it’s really light.”
“I think you’re pregnant.”
Just to feel more confident about the result, I convinced him to go with me to walk the dog so I could pop into Rite-Aid and get a different type of test. I got the ones that spell out “pregnant” or “not pregnant” instead of just the ones with the blue lines. In some ways, this made me even more nervous. If the window said “not pregnant,” the hope was over. At least for the time being. However, as you know, the window revealed the best early Christmas gift – the word “pregnant” glared back at me.
That morning I had a hair appointment, and I wasn’t sure if I should get my hair highlighted now that I was pregnant. I didn’t want my stylist to be the first person we told about our exciting news, but my sister didn’t answer when I called. So, Katie the hair stylist was the first person I told. Later that afternoon I told my sister, and then we took this Christmas card photo:
We decided to tell the rest of our immediate family on Christmas. I would only be 6 or 7 weeks pregnant at that time, but we wanted them to know, and Christmas morning provided the best opportunity to share our news.
We were in Florida visiting Tim’s family for Christmas last year, so we told his parents when we were opening presents on Christmas morning.
We printed out copies of this photo when we were in Tallahassee and taped it into Christmas cards for both of our parents. At the bottom we wrote, “Merry Christmas Grandma and Grandpa.”
Tim’s parents were happily surprised. “You’re pregnant!” Tim’s mom exclaimed. Tim’s brothers weren’t really paying attention when their parents opened the card, but that got their attention. Tim’s dad said he had been wondering, but Tim’s mom told him he wasn’t allowed to ask.
When my parents opened the gifts we mailed to them in Illinois, we had them on speaker phone and asked them to open the card last. When they got ready to open it, my sister was poised with her camera.
“I get it. I get it,” my mom shouted.
“Oh, my,” Dad said.
My sister snapped these: