I was so happy the day I officially found out I was pregnant. Being in my 30s and working with a lot of women I was all too aware of the heartache, prejudice and expense that comes with infertility. As I read the word “pregnant” on that digital stick, I was so relieved that had beaten the odds.
It had all happened just the way we wanted. We had gone with an easy-going approach. No counting days, no ovulation kits, no thermometer, we just left it up to fate, stress free. After a few short months of throwing caution to the wind (or “pulling the goalie”, as my sports-fan hubby liked to phrase it), our dreams came true.
My husband was so excited. He wanted to share the news with the world right away. I thought it would be better to at least get a confirmation from the doctor.
The doctor’s appointment went just as expected. The pregnancy was confirmed. I booked my 12-week scan and found a midwife. Even though this baby was only the size of a lentil, we were already fully attached. We are a very organized couple and went straight into researching diaper services, parental leave, childcare expenses and furniture. We had big dreams for this little lentil. We loved him already.
We knew it was unconventional to share in such early days, but considered that should something go wrong we wouldn’t want that to be a secret, we would want the support of our friends, that we could go ahead and share. (Besides, I had already seen the Doctor!)