They say you'll always remember the monumental days in your life. The days that really matter, those are the ones that'll stick in your mind until you're 80 and old and grey. But the day I found out I was pregnant with Mason is actually really blurry. I remember that we took a walk to Walmart to get lightbulbs or toilet paper or something for dinner and the pregnancy test that would change my entire life - although I didn't know that at the time. I was only a week or so late and not really too worried... but, just to be safe, I grabbed the test and one of those $3.50 chicken dinner in a box things (or maybe it was Hamburger Helper?) and walked over to Sheetz. To get there the short way, we had to climb this fence by the bank, and then the walk is pretty much uphill, but not steep by any means. I do remember being a little surprised at how out of breath and tired I felt, making that walk, but I brushed it off, blaming it on the cold air and too many cigarettes and being ridiculously out of shape. Maybe we walked home. Maybe we took the bus.
When we got back, George started dinner and I made my way to the bathroom. I peed on the stick and prepared to wait the three agonizingly painful minutes. I was about 99% sure that I'd only see one little pink line, but that 1% was making my palms sweat and my legs shake. After only a minute, I had my answer. My sweating was justifiable. I'd be sweating for he next nine months of my life. I was two pink lines closer to having a baby.
That's where it gets really blurry. I think I came out and found George making dinner in the kitchen. Or maybe he was sitting on the couch. But I looked at him and he knew. And I think I collapsed in the hallway or maybe it was on the floor of the bathroom but I don't think I remember eating any dinner. I don't remember the rest of the night, honestly. Maybe I just went right to bed. Maybe George slipped some Tylenol PM in my Kool-Aid so I'd calm down. I just know that I have no idea what happened in the two weeks after seeing those lines.
The next thing I remember is telling my dad, two weeks later. And that I do remember with the crystal clear, momumental, life-changing-event clarity that everyone talks about. After two weeks of wondering how I was going to tell him, I called him up one afternoon, and said, through tears, "Daddy, I have something to tell you". Of course, he must have prepared himself for the worst. It was the same thing I said when I'd ever wrecked a car or gotten in trouble at school. It was the line I used when I got not one, but two DUIs. It was the shaky, quiet way I speak when I'm really upset or scared or hurt.
And something inside me told me that my dad was going to be disappointed in me. Disappointed that I still hadn't finished school and had gotten in so much trouble and was still working as a waitress. Disappointed that now I was bringing a baby into this mess and wasn't doing anything in the right order. I was completely terrified that I was going to be disappointing my dad, who just wanted the best for me. Looking back, I'm not sure why I felt that way. He'd never been disappointed in me before.
When we got back, George started dinner and I made my way to the bathroom. I peed on the stick and prepared to wait the three agonizingly painful minutes. I was about 99% sure that I'd only see one little pink line, but that 1% was making my palms sweat and my legs shake. After only a minute, I had my answer. My sweating was justifiable. I'd be sweating for he next nine months of my life. I was two pink lines closer to having a baby.
That's where it gets really blurry. I think I came out and found George making dinner in the kitchen. Or maybe he was sitting on the couch. But I looked at him and he knew. And I think I collapsed in the hallway or maybe it was on the floor of the bathroom but I don't think I remember eating any dinner. I don't remember the rest of the night, honestly. Maybe I just went right to bed. Maybe George slipped some Tylenol PM in my Kool-Aid so I'd calm down. I just know that I have no idea what happened in the two weeks after seeing those lines.
The next thing I remember is telling my dad, two weeks later. And that I do remember with the crystal clear, momumental, life-changing-event clarity that everyone talks about. After two weeks of wondering how I was going to tell him, I called him up one afternoon, and said, through tears, "Daddy, I have something to tell you". Of course, he must have prepared himself for the worst. It was the same thing I said when I'd ever wrecked a car or gotten in trouble at school. It was the line I used when I got not one, but two DUIs. It was the shaky, quiet way I speak when I'm really upset or scared or hurt.
And something inside me told me that my dad was going to be disappointed in me. Disappointed that I still hadn't finished school and had gotten in so much trouble and was still working as a waitress. Disappointed that now I was bringing a baby into this mess and wasn't doing anything in the right order. I was completely terrified that I was going to be disappointing my dad, who just wanted the best for me. Looking back, I'm not sure why I felt that way. He'd never been disappointed in me before.
But I got hysterical then, thinking about it. When I get hysterical like that, I sound like I'm trying to talk while someone is dunking my head under water. My breath gets shallow and choppy and I can't talk or breathe. But somehow, I managed to get the words out. My dad told me to calm down, and then said, "Don't scare me like that, I thought it was going to be something really bad." He asked if I was thinking of having an abortion and I said of course not. He said he was proud of me, and I knew he meant it. He always has been; no matter what I do, he's never been disappointed. And I promised myself, right then, that I'd be just as supportive and understanding with my baby as he always was with me.
And I will be. Because regardless of how upset and scared I was at first, the thing that stands out in my mind is the way my dad was going to be there for me no matter what happened. More than anything I want Mason to be able to feel the way I felt that day. Don't get me wrong, I was still terrified and worried and nervous, but I also knew I was completely safe and accepted. And, I hope, so will Mason.
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