The Reveal

It never occurred to me I was actually pregnant.

Really. It didn't. I was all set to go back on my pill, as we'd decided to forgo the baby thing in favor of homebuying, at least for a while. Maybe we'd pick it up again in 2013. I just kept saying to T.J., "This period needs to start!" I was bitchy, short-tempered and my breasts had ached for probably two solid weeks. I had cramps. All run-of-the-mill, pre-period nonsense.

And on July 9, after getting up at 7 a.m. to feed the ever-annoying Dave, I thought, "Well, I'll just be sure..." and dug out a pregnancy test.

It took that little plus sign about two seconds to appear.

And I just sat there, staring it. There were no doubts whatsoever. That was a plus sign. I've peed on plenty of sticks in my life, and I've never once seen a vertical line before. But there it was, in all its faded blue glory.

I shook TJ awake. As he stared at me with sleep-filled eyes, I dropped it: "I'm pregnant."

And he just got this huge grin on his face and rolled over to put his arms around me.

It is not yet real. The queasiness that comes on about 5 a.m. and lingers until around 1 p.m. feels pretty real. The heartburn is real. The mood swings are real. But the now blueberry-sized Wee Baby Tranchell growing somewhere in there I have yet to comprehend. Part of my mind is still convinced this will end up being a food allergy. Like when I had a tummy ache for two months because I didn't know I was lactose intolerant.

But then there's that little blue plus sign. (Actually, two -- I took the test again, of course).

And in another week, I'll get to go to the doctor and she'll poke and probe and with any luck, we'll hear its little heart beat.

Until then, I am overcome with the urge to take a pregnancy test every day, if only I could afford it. Just for some sort of of constant comfort that yes, a baby's really in there. God really did this. Without my permission and totally off my time table.

In the meantime, my mom already sent us a package of diapers.