I decided I couldn't wait. I felt like the secret joy was bubbling out of me.
I took the hpt from tuesday and taped it into a Christmas card and brought it out into the living room.
Can I give you an early Christmas present?
If you have to, he said.
So I hand him the card. He looks at it. Opens it and looks some more.
Are you pregnant? he says. That's two lines? Are you sure? He's not happy. He's not excited. Cool, he says.
And then he says, You get so frustrated with Mischa. Do you even want another baby?
So I reacted to that.
And then he gets up and goes into the kitchen and tells me not to get mad at him. And it goes on and on. He's not suprised, he says. Every month he's expected me to tell him that. He knew it was going to happen, he says. I didn't. He asks if I thought I was just ruined forever. Yes, I tell him and I cry and he holds me but still. He keeps talking and talking. And he pops every little bubble inside of me and by the end of night I wish I hadn't even told him.
