i roll over, open one eye and give her a tired smile.
“hey,” she asks, “can we go to the store today so i can get another pregnancy test?” my face, obviously, reveals what i’m thinking… what do you mean “another”?
apparently she’s already taken four.
apparently they were all positive.
apparently we’re pregnant.
i expected this sort of news to terrify me a little more than it did.
i mean, pregnant? how can we be pregnant?
we’re so young!
i don’t have any matching flannel pajama sets with the pockets on the shirt. none of my shoes have tassels. and neither of us own a briefcase… so how can we be pregnant?
these are the kinds of thoughts i expect myself to be having. a george banks style rant that gets comedically faster and faster until it ends in me panting and passing out and… none of that ever happens.
instead i’m only able to think in single word thoughts like baby…pregnant… and father.
i’m a dad… a dad?… what?
i’m not overwhelmed. i’m not stunned either. stunned would make me feel numb or dazed, and i don’t feel that way at all.
i feel happy.
i feel charged and excited. not like in a hyper way though… more like a down to business, rocky IV getting ready for the big fight, i’ve gotta go make something of myself, kind of way. and it’s gotta be something big. something that’ll take care of everything for that kid. every cute outfit we see or whatever the crazy new toy is, he’s gonna have… or she…