The Pregnancy Test

This post is not about the over-the-counter pregnancy test. I believe I used the Rexall brand because it was on sale. To be honest I don't really know which brand I used. To be even more honest I still have the stick I peed on so I could go and check. For the longest time I kept it to remind myself there was a baby growing inside of me. After I had the first ultrasound photo I thought I could throw it out, but by then I had grown somewhat attached. That little stick was my very first link to Hannah, proving she was there growing in my belly, no matter how small she was at the time.

But enough about me and keeping things (I promise I am not a pack rat and you will not see me on an episode of Hoarders).

This post is about the relationship tests I went through after finding out I was pregnant.

One of my best friends lives in Ottawa where she works as a paramedic. After I had peed on aforementioned stick she got an urgent text from me. Even though she has one of those plans where it costs nothing to call me, we normally text. That's just how we are. But obviously that night warranted a phone call. After a visit to the doctors confirmed I was pregnant, and she texted me to ask how I was, I didn't respond, or if I did I think I said something like "False alarm." Not being in the medical field, I didn't realize it's a well known fact that there are no false positives, only false negatives. She knew I was pregnant but gave me the space I needed as I came to terms with it myself. And afterwards, when I told her on my own time, she was beyond supportive. She even went out and bought me "What to Expect When You're Expecting" which became my bible for the next 35 weeks.

Next up is my gay best friend. At first I told him I was pregnant. And then remembering he tells everything to everyone, I too told him the test was faulty. I didn't tell him the truth until I was officially three months and there was less chance of me losing the baby. Thankfully, he proved how much he cares about me by forgiving me for lying to him. And at that point, if he wanted to scream it from the rooftops that was OK by me.

I told my straight guy best friend in the most simplest of fashions. Once a month we meet up to drink beer, eat wings, watch hockey and just talk. He has been a sounding board for many a "Why the heck do guys do that?" When I explained to him why I wasn't ordering a beer and that I wouldn't be able to be his drinking buddy for pretty much the next year, he was really excited and happy for me. He even let me monopolize the conversation with baby talk. And I'm pretty sure he even picked up the cheque.

This post wouldn't be complete without mentioning the reaction of a close mutual friend Chris and I share from university. Chris and I even fought over who got to tell her about the pregnancy (he beat me to telling her when had started to date, and therefore I lawyered him with that point, and hence won the chance to tell her). She squealed so loudly the whole restaurant turned to look and she just kept hugging me. To this day, she is the only person I got somewhat teary with when I introduced her to Hannah.

The best thing about all of these people (and many of my other friends) is that after I gave birth to Hannah the way they treat me remains unchanged. For now, Hannah just tags along when I hang out with them. They are still honest with me, still gossip with me and still talk to me about what's going on in their lives. They accommodate my new status as a Mom, but not at the sake of our friendship.

I can't finish a post about sharing pregnancy news without mentioning my brother's reaction. Even without all the extra hormones flowing through my body, a text he sent me the day after I told him would have brought me to tears. He wrote, simply, "So this is what winning the lottery feels like." I can honestly say that is probably the mushiest thing my brother has ever said to me in his 27 years on this planet. And it's probably the truest too.