Me-“I think I’m pregnant.”
Matt (obviously thinking that’s a bizarre sentence to hear from one’s wife, unsolicited, at 10:30pm)- “Woo let’s have a baby! *realizes said wife is not joking* Wait, you’re serious? As in like–we-need-to-buy-a-test- serious?”
Me- “Yeah, get your keys.”
Approximately thirty minutes later, I’m too terrified to return to the bathroom and read the test that held the largest change to come into our lives. Obviously, I sent Matt in to read it, after making him fully understand what a plus sign versus negative sign meant/read.
Matt-“We’re having a baby!”
Me-“What the f*&^ did you just say?”
Matt- “You’re pregnant. How did you even think that you were pregnant?”
Me-“Someone posted a video of a cancer patient being serenaded by Florence and the Machine and it literally made me weep. I never cry at stuff like that.”
Matt-“Huh.”
Then, in true form-he falls asleep after immediately being so accepting and excited that we just changed the entire game. Meanwhile, I lay awake for four hours thinking of all of the horrific things that could happen, how fat I’m going to get, how miserable I’m going to be, and how we really didn’t want or see kids anytime in the near future. I could not shake the feeling that somehow we were both going to wake up and realize we were in way, way over our heads. Then came the guilt. Crippling, all consuming guilt that we had people in our lives trying to get pregnant, and we blink and it happens completely unplanned.
The Ginger Housewife 