Wow. Still reeling. You can hope and pray for something, but getting it's a whole different ballgame. It was Saturday morning, November 17th. We had been out with friends the night before (oops) and needed some, what shall we call it, convalescing time. Les threw in a pan of biscuits, I brewed a pot of coffee and we settled under the blanket to watch Knocked Up. No, I'm not kidding, and yes, I recognize the irony. Not three hours later, Leslie's peeing on a stick and I'm going weak at the knees.
Movie quote: "Somebody's coming! Somebody's coming!"
Bill Murray, Ghostbusters
The question then becomes, well, what to do now? Pace around the house for a little while, obviously, that much is certain. But what then? Can't tell the parent's yet... Thanksgiving's only a few days away - an around the dinner table announcement would be priceless. Can't call friends in Birmingham - they might accidentally let the parents know. Can't toast the moment with champagne - Leslie particularly unhappy as the reality of that fact sets in. Can't sit still..
Buy more sticks?
Buy more sticks.
Yep. It's official.
Somehow each stick hit home a little more: a little babe was on the way. Not easy to hold on to such a big secret, even for five days.
But the celebration was worth the wait. We told everyone at the Lantrip Family Thanksgiving dinner. Earlier that week, Leslie had bought a handful of "onesies" -- I'm learning these terms as I go, so bear with me -- and painted names on each: World's Best Grandparents, Uncle Patrick and Aunt Mandy, Uncle Michael and Aunt Leigh Anne... even one for Granny. That night at, around the dinner table, everyone received the bag with his or her painted onesie. There was some hemming and hawing going on in that room, I'll tell you what. Lotta happy faces! Cheers, cheers, and a piece of pie for everyone... we're gonna be parents!