When it came time to share my pregnancy news with our family and friends, I knew it would come in three waves. First, we’d tell immediate family, because we were living with my parents and I knew I couldn’t keep that secret. Second, our extended families, most likely at Christmas when we were all together. And finally, we would share with the general public (we’re social media people), after the first trimester was well over.
Telling our parents was an idea hatched at 5:00am on a Saturday. I’d taken my first digital test, and the result was clearly positive (after about a week of using up my Wondfo stash). Mr. O and I couldn’t sleep anymore, so we snuck upstairs and headed for the 24-hour Walmart. Like giddy kids awake before the adults on Christmas, we made a beeline for the baby department. Throughout our infertility, we had avoided this section like the plague; now we were practically running. We chose a ‘Here Comes Trouble’ t-shirt for my mom (with monster trucks; she loves them) and a onesie for my MIL, bought oversized gift bags and a ton of pink and blue tissue paper, and then….sat idly in the car until we knew someone would be awake.
We told Mr. O’s mom first. She unwrapped the onesie, examined the ‘Going to Grandma’s’ slogan emblazoned across the front, and looked up at us, puzzled. Then she screamed, jumped out of her chair, and gave us both hugs.
My parents were a little tougher to tell. They opened their gift bag, took out the tiny t-shirt, and smiled blandly. “Oh cute,” my mom said, “a shirt for the dog.” My sister (who was also present) noticed me shaking my head frantically, and then, what felt like hours later, the three of them clued in. Cue tears, shrieking, and hugs all around.