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“Nope, we have a dog.”
Noah laughs and kisses my cheek. “You know what I mean.”
I nod against his scruff. “Ready?”
“One, two, three.”
I open and stare until I hear, “You’re going to be a mom,” being whispered in my ear. I’m not sure what comes first, the tears or sudden rush of elation. Either way, my husband has me cocooned in his embrace, kissing the side of my face as I try to grapple with what he’s said.
“Are you sure?”
“I am,” he says and shows me the stick more clearly. The word on the little white stick blurs as the tears continue to fall down my face. “We’re going to have a baby.”
“We’re going to have a baby.”
I place my hand on my lower stomach, now my womb, as if I’m protecting our child. Then it all sinks in.
“Holy shit, Noah!”
“I know.”
“No. I mean, holy shit. We’re going to be responsible for another human. Like, it’s going to depend on us for everything and then some, and then . . .”
Noah chokes out a half laugh, half cry. “Are you seriously coming to terms about parenthood now?”
“I don’t know, I just—” I trail off and look into the mirror and down at Stevie Nicks who is the most chill puppy. “Am I going to be a good mom?”
She wags her tail. What does she know? She’s only known me less than a day.
“Holy shit,” I say again, this time to myself.
“Do I need to call someone?”
I turn sharply at his suggestion. Everyone knows we’ve done IVF and had the transfer. We can’t keep this a secret from our family as much as I’d like to let this stay between us a bit longer.
“No, I’m fine, but we need to make some calls.”
“Let’s head over to your parents’. We’ll call mine from there. We can tell them all at once.”
I shake my head. “If we show up at my parents, they’ll know. Then your parents will be upset they didn’t know at the same time. Oh, this is hard.” I wring my hands together.
Noah shakes his head and pulls out his phone.
“No,” I put my hand over it. “My sister too.”
Noah pulls my chin toward him so he can look into my eyes. “You’re being frantic for nothing. Your mom hasn’t called. Neither has mine. Let’s take our girl over to meet her grandparents and Ollie, then we’ll do one big group call. Okay?”
I nod but am certain this won’t work.
We pile into the SUV, and by pile, I mean we pack enough essentials for an apocalypse. Noah seems to think that in the time it takes us to get to my parents and back, Stevie Nicks will run out of toys, training snacks, and beds. I say nothing because I made sure she had on her pretty doggie shirt. I might have gone a bit overboard with dog clothes that probably won’t fit her next week.
The entire drive I have the urge to rest my hand on my stomach, as if doing so will make sure everything works the way it’s supposed to. I’m not naïve in thinking this pregnancy will be perfect but now I can’t let the what ifs and negativity cloud my mind. Until now, we didn’t even know if I could get pregnant. We’re at least moving in the right direction.
An hour later, we’re pulling into my parent’s. Quinn’s bike is out front, along with my dad’s. There are times when I appreciate that Noah doesn’t own a motorcycle. He can drive one but has never had the urge to buy one. But then, there are moments when I think, damn he’d be really hot on a bike.
“Quinn’s here so at least we don’t have to find a way to bring him in on a call.”
“Yep.” He picks Stevie Nicks up and carries her over to the small patch of grass. After encouraging her to do her business he rewards her with a treat and a lot of love. I do as well because she’s scruffy and honestly, I can’t get enough of her.
