Once upon a time in this funny little place called Ross River, I was having a temper tantrum and was angry at the world, including the fact that yet another month was going by without being pregnant. There’s not a heck of a lot to do here, so each month sans fetus was like “OMG, could we ACTUALLY be here for 2 years without a bambino?” Dread!
So I took a home pregnancy test out of anger, just to confirm to myself that I was out of the running, so I could move on and focus on other things. Other things like dinner. Or online movie rentals. Fascinating.
I took the test, waited an ADD 5 seconds and when I saw no second line I tossed the test and stormed off to clean windows or something. Then one distraction led to another. That night before going to bed I remembered the test and felt sheepish at being so baby crazy and frustrated. I tried to be all Zen and remind myself that my time would come and yadda yadda yadda. So I brushed my teeth and pulled the test out “just to make sure.” I took out the pink stick and saw a really faint second line.
“Hmm, what does THAT mean?” I wondered to myself. So I ran with my little pink cell phone out onto the back porch where no one could hear me and I called one of my best friends.
“There’s a second line but it’s like really light. What does that mean?”
She said if there was anything but one line, that probably means there’s something funky going on. We decided I’d take another test first thing in the morning. It was one of those digital ones where it just reads either Pregnant or Not Pregnant. I got it out of the package and all ready for my morning pee the next day.
I woke up at 8:00 to get ready for school, and hid the test in the bathroom drawer while I let it sit for the requisite three minutes after peeing on it. Unfortunately, while I was letting it process, one of our house guests who had popped in the night before from Whitehorse had taken advantage of the available shower. I made breakfast, got dressed, put together some snacks I could eat during the morning, and pretended to read a magazine while I waited FOR-EV-ER. She finally came out, dangling a towel over her hair and closed the guest room door. I opened the drawer and read the words PREGNANT. I don’t remember what my immediate thoughts were (kind of anti-climactic, sorry!) because I had to be quiet. So I raced back out onto the back porch, redialed my friend and told her the results. We both got giddy, I told her not to tell a soul, and I cut the conversation short so I could tell the father!
I have a stockpile of greeting cards on hand, so I pulled out a “Congratulations on your baby” card. Inside, I wrote, “Are you ready to be a Daddy?” and signed my name. I walked into our bedroom as he finished dressing for work. I closed the door, sat on the bed and told him there was something I needed to tell him.
“I feel it is best expressed in this card,” I said. I gave it to him and watched his face as he opened the envelope and read, then re-read the words.
“Seriously? For real?”
I nodded and cried, and he hugged me and we laughed and repeated over and over again, “Wow, we’re going to have a baby!”
We called my mom, my other best friend, his best friend and parents and told them our crazy news, cautioning them to keep it to themselves as we wanted to share and celebrate but be weary “in case anything happens.” I told my Dad and siblings a few days later on Father’s Day. Clearly, my “present” kicked everyone else’s butts.
And now we’re in the fourth month, my belly is swelling and I am just way too excited!!
Yikes, alright, so it’s been awhile. At first I was sitting in Ross River willing the days to count down slower so I could just escape the tedious boredom of this silly town and go home. My days consisted of feeling sea sick, watching TLC shows in the a.m., walking the dog, doing some yoga, watching Dr. Phil and Oprah, making dinner and reading before bed. A tedium any twentysomething can see was filled with lameness. It was brutal.
Then I finally got to fly to Vancouver, where I visited with some high school buddies. We toured around, I bought ridiculously priced yoga pants, and we watched fireworks on the beach that night. It was a beautiful first night away from Ross.
I flew into Ottawa and surprised my sister by arriving a day earlier than she thought I would. It was priceless. I spent my time in Ottawa going to movies on the big, fancy screen, laughing at hilarious childhood movies in the basement, having sleepovers with my best friends, eating deliciously wonderful food and having heart to hearts: soooo much better in person than over the phone. Made some important artistic discoveries like She&Him and the Flight of the Concords (I don’t get out much).
Drove to Maine with some family and relished in the familiar beauty of the seaside town we’d visited many summers before. We played in the waves, ate fried clams, kissed lobsters, read on the beach and got sand into every crevice imaginable. I even went like 5 days without showering. Cuz hey: bathing in the ocean is so much better. In week-long doses, that is.
I said goodbyes to Maine, then goodbyes to family and friends in Ottawa. It was so hard to say goodbye, especially to my mum, because we now had so much more to bond over. We definitely have made the leap from parent-child to a place where we can be friends.
When my plane landed in Whitehorse, I was greeted by husband and in-laws and we set off on a Yukon tour. We stayed a few days in the capital at a B&B that had no beds or breakfast (c’est la vie) before heading up the Klondike Highway for 6 hours to Dawson City. I love Dawson. I really hope we can live there next. It feels like stepping on to the set of an old movie. Then we drove 7 or 8 hours back to Ross River, where our lovely helpers moved us from the brown house around the block to the big, beautiful new house.
And now that the in-laws have had their fill of the Yukon, and it’s back to being husband, myself, Goober and Skylar in this new, beautiful big house, I actually feel happy here in Ross River. Maybe it’s the change in dwelling, maybe it’s the refreshed perspective that comes with a trip home, or maybe it’s not being in a perpetual state of queasiness. But I’m in a place that feels like my home and I can’t wait to make room for one more.