Tuesday, January 29, 2013

Telling the Hubs

Telling your husband you're pregnant Telling your husband you are pregnant can be a little nerve-wracking, especially if that conversation just so happens to take place on the heels of a conversation about waiting to have children. I had approached Jesse with the idea that I might be pregnant, but he flat out dismissed it. He felt that since it had not happened yet, it could not have happened now. And the more I insisted that I really thought I might be pregnant, the more he reassured me, in a voice one would us to talk to a hurt animal, that he was most certain I was not.

So, when I took the test and confirmed what I already knew, I was a little hesitant to tell him. Of course, I was busting at the seams with joy and excitement - albeit mixed with a bit of apprehension - so I had to tell SOMEONE. But Jesse would be hurt if I confided in someone else first.

And that's how it came to be that my very first confidant when I found out I was pregnant was our sweet, lovable, and enthusiastic dog Oliver.

Oliver is a German Shepherd and Chow Chow mix who somehow managed to get nearly all the good qualities of each of these breeds and none of the bad. The only thing he lacks is intelligence, but he more than makes up for it in heart. (Our other dog, Stella the Beagle, is another story altogether, one we will save for another day.)

While I was squirreled away in the bathroom, surreptitiously peeing on a stick, Oliver was waiting faithfully outside the door for me to emerge. When I opened the door, he greeted me as though it had been hours since he last saw me. I leaned down and whispered to him, "Mama's going to have a baby!" (Yes, I am one of those people who treats her dogs like children, and yes, I agree that it is annoying.)

Oliver went wild. My own excitement could hardly compare to his as his tail beat against the wall and he flung his entire body back and forth in one of the full-body wags for which he is known.

Having told Oliver, I was able to keep the secret to myself a little longer. I went about the next two days without telling Jesse about the test. Instead, I spent a lot of time trying to prepare him. I listed my symptoms - bigger boobs, cramping, nausea, peeing all the time - and told him I really thought I was pregnant.

Jesse remained steadfast in his declaration that there was just no way, which really was silly given that we were not very careful to begin with. At one point, he actually told me, "A man knows these things."

Finally, I made him a bet. If I was indeed pregnant, he had to make me dinner the following day. If not, I would cook for him.

Then I went upstairs and took a second test and returned with soiled stick in hand. "You owe me dinner," I reported. Jesse was stunned, but pleasantly so.

We spent the rest of the evening marveling over the fact that we were going to be parents. Unfortunately, however, Jesse thought I should double check the test, just to be sure, so I told him that it was the second test. Realizing he had been duped, he refused to make dinner. If I remember correctly, I think we had pizza delivered, so I guess it was a wash.

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