In June, we found out that I was pregnant. I had thought right away that I might have conceived, though I chalked it up to paranoia, since we were planning to start trying for a family in a year's time. Regardless, I started downing maternity pills within two days. Call it a Mama Spidey Sense or something.
About three weeks later, after I started having some symptoms, I finally broke down and took a test before I left for work that day. Positive?! I looked from the test to my reflection in the mirror (as if she was going to tell me something different), then back at the test and back at the mirror. "Really?" Mirror Me just stood there, looking as stunned as I felt. "Whaaaat?"
So, still unconvinced, I ignored the test, wrapping it back up and stowing it under the sink. "It's almost expired," I thought, "so maybe it's a dud. I can't really be prego." I didn't tell Danny, who had already gone to work, because I didn't want to tell him that I might be pregnant over the phone. I asked him to pick up two tests on the way home that evening.
When I got home, my visiting sister-in-law and Danny kept urging me to use the tests, but I insisted on packing for our vacation the next day. Finally, not being able to put it off any longer, I marched off toward the washroom, armed with a full bladder and a healthy dose of skepticism. I emerged in a few minutes, the three tests fanned out in my hand, looking more than a bit freaked out. "I'm...uh, pregnant?!" Danny and I sat on the couch with stunned looks on our faces as my sister-in-law danced around the living room, jumping on the loveseat, screeching, crying, and laughing. "I'm gonna be an aunt! I'm gonna be a friggin' aunt!"
The shock has worn off, and we're really excited about what the next few years will hold. Our world adventures are still off in the distance, but for now, we are embarking on a different sort of adventure.