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Funny, I don’t remember packing that

by Miranda on August 23, 2011

When I go anywhere, I’m a pretty meticulous packer. I make a list of what I’m taking with specific item details. The list doesn’t just say “black dress.” It says “faux wrap black dress with five buttons.” (Also? I laugh and roll my eyes when Dan does this. Because he takes my OCD packing nature to a whole ‘nother level.)

When I need to tightly pack many things to save space, I can do it easily. I’m the master of having no dead space. Just ask my roommates about my BlogHer swag and how I got that home. They can vouch for my awesome packing skills.

What I do not remember packing for BlogHer–or even remotely thinking that I needed to pack–is this:

Yeah.

Yes. Yes that is what you think it is.

Yes. Yes I am just as shocked as some of you are.

When I took the test on the Monday morning after BlogHer, I took it kind of on a whim. I was on day 52 of what I thought was an anovulatory cycle. I knew that if I planned to call the doctor around day 60, they’d ask me if I’d tested. So, I grabbed the pee stick out of the cabinet and before I even had a chance to wipe, two lines were there.

I kind of laughed in disbelief. Shook the test. Looked again. Yep. Still two pink lines.

Dan was getting Joshua dressed for school so I went into the nursery, pee stick in hand, and when he asked why I had such a funny look on my face, I showed him the test. Shoved it at him, actually. He did the same shocked, disbelieving laugh as me and then high fived me. (What? You don’t high five your spouse over surprise pregnancies?! Oh, wait, you don’t HAVE surprise pregnancies? Yeah. Me neither.)

I wish I could say I immediately did back flips and let out a SQUEE! of joy. But I just kind of went through the morning in complete shock. And the rest of the day. And the day after that. And the day after that.

That shock has been the reason for my radio silence lately. Until we knew some dates, we didn’t want to tell our families. And until we told our families, I couldn’t really write about this. And without writing about this, I’ve been left with zero ways to process this aside from in my own head. Which is a facking awful place for anyone as it turns out.

And as it turns out, I’m pretty much terrified.

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