P-DAY

Sunday, fresh bedding, a beautiful summers morning.

The early-bird Significant other exits the white-sheeted kingsize leaving space for a slumbersome starfish to occupy. A lie-in was on the cards, the previous weeks had been extremely stimulating both emotionally and mentally. The serene environment in the bedroom allowed for my drowsiness to overtake and I was again, snoozing.

There are many ways a person can be woken up; alarm clocks, cuddles, naturally…

This morning however, an oral air raid siren obliterated the calm.

My eyes opened, I looked up slowly at my fiancé who was stood besides the bed wearing her underwear and a look of hysteria. It took a moment to rouse and adapt to the blitz when the SO shoved a pregnancy test under my nose.

Now- those things are not at all easy to read. One line could mean pregnant. Two lines could mean pregnant. A cross can mean not pregnant. Instruction manuals are a god send when it comes to peeing on a stick.

With pee dripping from the end of the stick and two clear red vertical lines displayed in the window of the test I still wasn’t too sure if it was a positive or a negative until I looked at the face of my SO. She really is quite the looker and this morning was no different but with the inclusion of a beaming smile spanning her face. Oh and the underwear wake-up.

Queue the hug, tears and “oh my fuck, we are having a baby!”

The SO was already getting ready and wanting to share the news with her sister with whom was aware we had been trying for a baby.

The emotional reaction for me at that moment of realisation was incomprehensible… I voiced that I needed a few minutes to process- meaning that I sat on the bed tightly hugging a pillow to my face, tears streaming, smile cemented, occasionally shouting profanities as a coping mechanism to try and verbally display my feelings. Which failed. It literally could not be communicated.

The bun is in the oven!