Honey, can you come here?....HONEY!!!!....

Kevin: What’s wrong? What does it say?
Me: *look of sheer terror, shock, and joy mixed together* There are two pink lines.

Two pink lines.

I fell to the bathroom floor in a dramatic huff, laying on my back looking at this white stick with two pink lines. Kevin just stood in the doorway to our bathroom staring at me wide-eyed with the biggest, most childish grin on his face that I’ve ever seen. It reminded me a lot of the day he proposed to me. It was one of those raw, naïve, and completely unadulterated smiles that he gets when he doesn’t even realize it. When he’s truly happy. I, on the other hand, was lying on the floor staring at this stick with what I can only imagine was a look of confusion and doubt. Am I pregnant?? No! I can’t be! Silly little white stick, you’re wrong! Something must’ve happened to this little bugger during manufacturing. It’s a false positive. It has to be. So I’m a few days late – it’s probably because of all the traveling and wacko dieting I’ve been doing these past few months.

Good thing I bought a 2-pack.

For the second test, Kevin sat there and stared at me. He was still beaming. I was busy wondering if there was a wrong way that you could pee on a stick. For the next three minutes, I sat in his lap hugging him. He knows how to make my worries disappear, even if just for three minutes. We jumped up to look at the new white stick as soon as the clock ticked past the 3rd minute. And once again, TWO FREAKIN PINK LINES! I still didn’t know what to feel – I needed more confirmation before I committed to any kind of emotion. I grabbed my purse and headed to Target to buy more tests. To make things even more interesting, this was the morning of September 12th – the Friday that Ike hit Texas. So Houston was in a mad craze. I was already worried enough about having enough water, batteries, fans and snacks to hold us over during the aftermath and inevitable power loss. And now I’m having to fight the crazies in Target just to get another pregnancy test?! I felt like I was in the middle of some bad joke. Like at any moment, Ashton Kutcher was going to jump out and tell me that I’d been Punk’d. Too bad I’m not a celebrity. This was totally real. Real people don’t get Punk’d.

I sat staring at the different kinds of pregnancy tests. I saw the 2-pack that I had used earlier that morning. Psh – stupid pink lines. I need to write that company a letter to let them know their sticks are faulty. I needed something more than just pink lines for a confirmation of this magnitude. I needed a test that would scream at me “Girl, you’re pregnant!” Unfortunately, there are no tests with audible results. So I settled for the kind that specifically said “Pregnant” or “Not pregnant”. It can’t get much clearer than that, can it? And best of all, there were no silly pink lines to interpret.

I got home, did my thing, and set the stick down for its three minute deliberation. I washed my hands and quickly stole a peak at the little results window, not really knowing what I even wanted it to say. It hadn’t even been a minute anyway – it’s probably still blank. But I had to look. Big and bold, there it was – "Pregnant". What?! This stick didn’t even need three whole minutes to tell me the big news. I grabbed the stick to show Kevin (who was outside testing the generator – he didn’t stare at me for this third test. He didn’t need that extra confirmation – he was completely satisfied with the pink lines). On my way out of the bathroom, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. There was a smile stretched from one side of my face to the other, and I didn’t even realize it was there. And that smile was all the confirmation in the world that I needed. No pink lines or screaming pregnancy tests could confirm more than what my smile told me.

We’re having a baby.

For about 2 ½ weeks, we tried to keep the news only to ourselves and immediate family. We both agreed that we wanted to go to the doctor to make sure the tests were right and everything looked normal before we announced it to everyone. Monday we met with my doctor, and everything was fine and healthy. My doctor is amazing, too. She answered my ridiculous questions, and she told us that the baby and I were perfect. Seriously, who can’t love a woman who tells you you’re perfect 6 or 7 times in a few minutes??

Since right now it’s just a little blob hanging out in my uterus (and we won’t know whether it’s a boy or girl until around week 20 – I’m week 7) we’ve decided to lovingly call the little thing “Bun”. Yes, as in “bun in the oven”.

Here’s Bun’s first photo: