We walked inside together only to to separate him to the electronics department and me to the baby aisle. I would like to take a moment to register a complaint regarding store layout here. Why on God's Green Earth would you place Condoms, Baby Diapers, and Pregnancy Tests all in the same place? I know in theory that all of these things belong together, in theory. But you take one look at the cost of Baby Diapers and it will make any ardent person with the case of the Babies want to do an about face and reconsider the loss of disposable income. Then there are those that are slightly stressed about the possibility of spawning new life and right above the pregnancy tests are the condoms mocking the irresponsible on their poor planning skills. Put the Baby Diapers with the toilet paper, the condoms with alcohol, and the pregnancy tests with the cotton balls. I don't know why cotton balls, it just seems to fit. But I digress...
I quickly purchased the cheapest PT and headed straight to the public bathroom. I had nothing to worry about so it was not something that really needed to be taken seriously, or so I thought.
I locked myself in the disabled bathroom as there was more room and its own sink and trashcan. I took the test quickly and waited. Just as a screaming child entered the bathroom the little pink sign appeared in front of my eyes. Never in my life have I been so glad to have just finished peeing. I emerged from the bathroom holding that little piece of plastic. The woman with the screaming child took one look at what I was holding and the look on my face and quickly quieted her child. Realizing that it was probably not the most polite thing in the world to hold a pee stick in front of one's face in a public place, I quickly shoved the life changer in my pocket. Again, not the best place for it but I needed proof in case I stumbled into a world of disbelief.
Right around this time, kids everywhere had those crazy shoes with the wheels in them. I swear that they were issued to every child on RAF Lakenheath that year. If a child could walk they could glide. As I emerged from the bathroom, I stumbled into an entire flock of gliding pre-teens circling around me like the flying monkeys from the Wizard of Oz. They seemed to have planned this to further scare the shit out of me. To this day I cannot see one of those kids gliding on the their skate shoes without hearing the Wicked Witch's Flying Monkeys Theme song in my head.
I still remember walking up to Andrew. He was in his tan winter coat with his back to me. I tapped him on the back and uttered the words millions of women have uttered to millions of men, "I'm pregnant." It is said that you can see someone cycle through a dozen of thoughts with a dozen emotions. I did not believe that until that moment. "You're joking!" turned to "How?" which turned to "When?" then cycled into "oh yeah..." which changed into "oh, shit!" then "Oh Shit!" then "I am so not ready for this," and finally "My wife is pregnant and I am going to be a Dad." I saw that all in his face in the half a second it took for him to hug me.
I would love to say that the story ended happily and we welcomed a beautiful baby into our lives; but that is not how this story ends. I started bleeding so we went to the doctor. The only way to tell if everything was okay was through an ultrasound. The only thing that the Doctor said before she started the test was that she "fully expects tears either way."
SOOOOO..... BETASERSON TIME ... I will finish the rest of the story tomorrow. I can tell you though... it gets pretty good... but it is my life so I might be a little biased.
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