When I found out I was pregnant with my daughter, our first (and only) child, I was so excited and at the same time scared shitless.
It wasn’t a whoops pregnancy, we were married by this point and we had decided to start trying for a baby. Although the anticipation of sharing the news with him should have been joyful, I couldn‘t escape the feeling of dread...or was it fear.
I had surprised Alex with a trip to NYC for his 40th, I found out I was preggers the day before our flight. I realized there would be no celebrating his birthday with drinkies so he would definitely realize something was a miss. I decided I would tell him in New York surrounded by big buildings, bright lights and lofty dreams...it would be all good.
Once in NYC any plans of a grandiose announcement over candle light and the music from a mariachi band over our Mexican dinner faded, my nerves getting the best of me. Instead I blurted it out on the bustling streets amongst the city noise as we walked arm in arm to the next bar. (Maybe I was hoping the spur of the moment reveal would result in one of those Time Square movie scenes starring Meg Ryan.)
Unfortunately my intuition of how this would go was not wrong . He looked at me, dropped my arm and simply stated, “No you are not. It’s not possible.” And kept walking ahead of me.
(Not the movie I was thinking of.)
”That old familiar body ache,
the snaps from the same little breaks
in your soul.”
~T. Swift
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