I'm Pregnant
A monday afternoon some time ago, she texts me with, "Call me. It's important."
Strange. I'm in the car, so I ponder what's so important as we drive back to the office. I can't figure it out.
We get to the office and I step into the echoey stairwell for some semblance of privacy. I sit down on the stair and dial her number.
"I have to tell you this, but please wait to react."
An odd request. I'm probably one of the most calm-under-pressure people I know, thanks to years of professional gambling. In the split second before her next sentence I try to recall a time I overreacted to anything with her. I can't.
"The doctor called today," she begins. She had just been to the doctor for a routine blood test, "and she asked me whether or not I knew I was pregnant."
"What?"
"Tynan, I'm pregnant."
It's simultaneously the worst and most unexpected news I'd ever gotten. It seems impossible that she could be pregnant. We always use condoms and there hadn't been any sort of incident which would be cause for concern. No point in thinking about that now - the reality is that it somehow happened.
The news is based on a blood test, not one of the error prone take home tests. This is serious. Instantly my life is seen through a new filter - through the perspective of me being a father in nine months. This is insane. I love kids more than anything, but I'm definitely not ready to have one of my own.
I have nothing to say. No amount of talking about my feelings or "how could this have happened?" is going to change the impending disaster. The result is an awkward conversation with more dead space than conversation.
We hang up and I walk back into the office. Todd asks me if everything is ok. Yes, I reply.
Every waking minute of the next day is occupied with thoughts of the pregnancy. I know that, like everything, everything will be fine in the end. I will somehow look back at this as it being a positive experience.
The next day she and I have breakfast, and alternate between normal conversation and tense conversations about the pregnancy. It's uncomfortable, but probably necessary.
She gets a call and leaves the room.
When she comes back she has a huge smile plastered across her face. It seems inappropriate.
"What?" I ask, impatiently.
She doesn't answer.
"What?"
"I'm not pregnant!"
"What?!"
I dont believe her at first. For the past 48 hours I've known that I was going to have a kid, and unraveling that sort of realization isn't easy.
She goes on to tell me that they switched one of her files by accident with a pregnant woman, and they they were profusely sorry. Reality sunk in and we were overjoyed, laughing and talking about how fortunate we were. It's tough to appreciate the wonder of not being headed down fatherhood road until you've driven on it.
I'll tell you one thing, though - I'm done with sex for a LONG time. Having any chance of that happening for real isn't worth it. Sorry ladies!
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