Two Pink Lines



People have always told me that you don’t realize how much you want something until you say it outloud. Until it’s no longer a thought, but spoken — not just to yourself, but to another person.

It’s real. No longer bottled up, no longer able to take back or undo. It’s how I felt when I told the Mister I wanted to go back to grad school, that I had a great idea for a vacation or wanted to live in Eurpoe for a year (don’t worry, moms, we came to reality on that one). It’s also the way I felt when the Mister and I first decided to have kids.

For those of you who have had your own kids, you know that as soon as you decide you want kids, you can’t wait another moment. Each day that goes by feels like eternity. You try to distract yourself, make the weeks go by quickly, knowing that all you’re waiting for is the end of your “cycle.” That word disgusts me and I promise I’ll never use it again.

Then, the big day.

The Mister and I promised ourselves that we wouldn’t get caught up in the drama of it all. And I promised I wouldn’t turn into a psycho wife. Easier said than done — although I don’t think I ever fully lost it (at least that’s what I tell myself).

After just a few short long, never-ending months, it happened.

Now, if someone told me just a few years ago that my world would change forever after peeing on a stick, I’d look at them like they had told my Santa wasn’t real (he is!).

How little did I know…

As I watched the TWO pink lines emerge, I looked at the Mister and thought, “holy crap.”

Yea, I might leave that part out when I tell this story to our son/daughter.

Holy crap. Holy crap as in:

So yes, I’m pregnant. Bring on the pickles.

p.s. due in February