Paul and I had been married for five years. We'd been together for ten years. We'd had Paco, whom we called our first child (a furry one), for six years. It was time to grow our family. We started early that year "trying" to conceive. It didn't seem to be working out, and each month I was disappointed.
Then, in, oh about late September, I realized..."Wait, my period hasn't come."
Hurricane Isabel was bearing down upon North Carolina. Our friend, Rich (the father of Paul's old college friend, Chris) was dying. We bought a pregnancy test, actually a couple of them.
The first gave a vague, light pink line. Maybe that was a "yes". To be sure, I took another. Again, a vague, light pink...I don't know. We decided to buy another pack of two. Both of those indicated nothing. No line, no nothing. I figured that meant no, that I wasn't pregnant. My disappointment was physical.
Finally, still curious, feeling extremely fatigued and sore in my breasts and unable to explain such symptoms, I bought another test.
Hurricane Isabel blew through that day. The power went out in some areas of town. Paul, for some reason, didn't go to work that week day. I took the test while he was downstairs working on the computer (we had power despite the storm). This time the answer was clear: positive. I took the stick down to Paul and laid it on the desk beside him.
"Huh," he said. "Huh," I said. For a moment we were silent. And then he turned to hold me. We started talking, talking, talking.
The next day we discovered that Rich had died. We went to the funeral, to spend time with Chris and his family, all the while holding our secret close in our hearts. Rich would have been thrilled for us.
I made an appointment with the OB, who told me that home pregnancy tests are better at giving false negatives than false positives and that if the test said positive, it was probably true. We had the first ultrasound and saw her little tiny bean of a body. We were amazed. And terrified. And thrilled.
We decided to wait until the end of the first trimester to tell everyone. I told a couple of close friends (Cathie and Laura). Paul told a couple of his close friends. We said nothing to our families.
Twelve weeks fell around Thanksgiving, so we decided to make our grand announcement then. For the first time in our relationship, we did not go home to Asheville for Thanksgiving with Paul's family. Instead, we invited my family to Raleigh to spend the holiday with us. My parents, my brother Stephen, Paul's sister (who lived in Durham) and her husband, and Paul's friend Abdul (whose family was spending a month in India at the time) all were to be guests at our meal.
I went all out. I did the turkey and all the trimmings. I decked the house out, made centerpieces, set a lovely table. Everyone teased me for working so hard, for making my master list/schedule (on which I even wrote "Take a shower" so that I would remember to). Throughout the day, Paul and I would exchange glances, touches, brief acknowledgments of our common secret while we still held it close.
Dinner was ready. We poured the wine. My mother, seated at one end of the table, began to make a toast. Paul interrupted her politely to say that he wanted to make the toast. Suddenly he was anxious. His voice quavered and he cleared his throat. "I'm more nervous than I thought I'd be," he said and looked at me. I smiled at him. He went on.
"To all of you, for being here on this day to support us. We are especially blessed today, because we are going to be parents soon." (or something like that, I don't remember exactly).
For a brief second, there was silence as everyone absorbed his words. Then the table exploded with chatter. My mother cried and ran around to hug me. My Dad teared up a little, reached over and squeezed my knee. He began talking about getting "her" a fishing license right away, then wondered aloud why he automatically thought of a girl. My brother, the silent type, said little, but smiled and later gave me a huge hug. It was one of the most festive Thanksgiving meals I have ever experienced.
We talked about the five pregnancy tests, the last three months of keeping a secret, our plans for the future, our speculations on gender, names.
After dinner, I was suddenly considered fragile and could no longer get up on the stepladder to put dishes away in the cabinet (although I had done it just that morning to get them down). As much as I hate being the center of attention usually (it makes me uncomfortable), I did relish the sheer joy with which everyone received the news.
When we called in to Paul's family gathering and told the news to his Mom, we heard that room explode with the happy exclamations of his brothers and sisters. I'm certain I heard a few "It's about time" statements, but I could also be projecting.
I was so content during that pregnancy. I enjoyed being pregnant (even in the last little bit when I was so terribly uncomfortable) and I took great pleasure in the way everyone was so genuinely happy for us.
But it was that day--the day we finally let everyone else in on our private joy. That Thanksgiving Day in 2003 when Owen was just a little bean swimming around inside me. That was one of my best days. I had so very much to be thankful for.
Today I am thankful for...
Becoming a parent. My family. Paul's family (who has truly become mine). And a day set aside to celebrate and give thanks for them all.
Peace and Blessing to you. Happy Thanksgiving.
