Well steeglette, as every story has a “once upon a time”, so do you. I figure we’ll tell you about “the nitty gritty” in age appropriate details once you’re air breathing. Until then, here’s the story about how we found out you were bundled and ready for the baking.
It all started in January of 2010. Your daddy and I were visiting Auntie Asian + crew in Portland, and I was, as it were, “late on the arrival of Moody Monthly”. Auntie Asian and I went to the store and bought a special stick that works like a magic mirror and can tell if there is a baby a baking in the belly. After a not so spectacular negative reveal, Auntie Asian went back to the store and bought several more of said sticks, convinced there was something percolating in there. But it was clear – you weren’t ready yet.
Candid note – your daddy and I thought we’d never want to be parents. Not that we didn’t want you per se, but frankly, kids scare us. You have a lot of power in those little hands with nails like talons and quirky faces of yours that can cause a tyrant to submit. But on our 5hr drive back home from Portland, we both shared that we were a bit disappointed that it wasn’t time. Shocker. Truly.
Fast forward to late summer 2010. All of my clothes were too tight. Every time I put on a shirt, my arms looked liked stuffed sausages and putting my booty into a pair of pants was like fitting a balloon onto a fully inflated beach ball. Not pretty. I decided to see the doctor to find out was wrong with these not so flattering proportions. I got to the office, stepped on the scale, and had gained another 2lbs since the previous week. This was stupid.
The doctor came in and asked a cornucopia of questions, including “could you be pregnant.” My answer…”statistically, I suppose I ‘could’ be, but I’m not late. Probably not”. They took what seemed like enough blood for a vampire smorgasbord, and I proceeded to go to the store, and in tears, I would buy 3 new outfits with the plan that “if I’m going to be fat, I’m going to look good while doing it”.
The next day, I get a call from the doctor’s office saying, “Mrs. Stegall, a few of your test results came back, and we’d like to let you know that (translating dictation from perceived slow motion for the interest of the reader) you. are. pregnant.”
I fell silent. Nope, I didn’t fall. I was sitting in my office at work. But if shock is what happens when licking a battery, I believe I was electrocuted.
“Are you ok?”, says the voice – phone dangling lifelessly between my shoulder and ear.
O wait. I AM alive and have the ability to respond. So, “Yes, YES! I’m great…now what?”
Enter a litany of do’s and don’t’s and what’s nexts…
Now, how to tell daddy…