Tim was in the shower. He responded, "Oh shit!"
|I had a gorgeous patio garden outside our apartment. There was|
a contest. I won.
Tim wanted to be the one to tell. I was okay with that because frankly, I felt slightly bashful about the whole matter. I had this friend in high school that once confessed he thought it would be embarrassing to inform friends and family that his future wife was expecting on account of how everyone would then know that they'd, er, made the beast with two backs. I thought that was perfectly ridiculous at the time.
Pregnant and facing my mommy and daddy and mother-in-law, I finally understood the poor guy's point-of-view. An interesting side note: that high school friend was on his fourth kid last I heard. I guess he got over it.
So Tim got to deliver our rather earth shattering news. We were three months shy of our second wedding anniversary. Our public stance had always been that we were never ever going to have children.
"We're going to have a baby," he announced. Or maybe he said, "I got one past the goalie." Or, "Jo is knocked up." I can't really remember the exact words. He clearly communicated that I was with child. That much I know.
"You're getting a puppy," my mother said.
|By now, I think Mom understood it was not a puppy.|
"No, Mum, it's not a puppy," I told her with a little sadness in my voice.
"It's a puppy, right? This is a joke, isn't it? You're getting a puppy," she persisted.
And I think my mother spent most of the first trimester thinking we were getting a puppy. We laugh about that now, how my mom thought Julia was going to be a puppy.
When we finally did get puppies, they came with much less fanfare. There were no announcements, just flurries of emails with pictures of cute fuzz balls.