Pregnant and Tires

I remember the night I told my husband I was pregnant. It was September 28 -- two days after my 30th birthday.

I had not been feeling well for nearly two weeks. A co-worker said, "You should take a pregnancy test." Honestly, that hadn't even crossed my mind.

So, there I was on Friday, the 28th, stopping at the drug store on the way home. I had a busy night ahead of me. We were going to a dog show that weekend, so I was supposed to get everything packed and ready for the trailer. The trailer had a flat tire, so my husband (who wasn't able to get away from work till later), called to say he was stopping to get tire-changing supplies (whatever they were). I got home at six that night. I ran straight to the bathroom to take my test. It was all I could do to not sit there and stare at it for the three required minutes. I forced myself to close the door and I went upstairs to let the dogs out.

I went back into the bathroom and saw the +. I was hyperventilating when the phone rang. Like a dummy, I answered it. Of all people, it was my mom. I couldn't tell her before I had told my husband. I said I was out of breath because I was packing the trailer. After we hung up, I got back to work. Somewhere in the middle of that, I took another test. Still positive.

I set to thinking of how I would tell my hubby. Nothing was coming to me.

Finally, he came home. He still had to change the trailer tire and I still had to put everything in the rig. I didn't want to distract him, so I decided to wait to tell him. I stood there with the flashlight while he cursed at the tire.

Finally, we were done. "Go ahead and get in the car," he said. "I need to go get my tea and close up the house."

I said, "Um, I'm coming in, too." He tried to make me get in the truck, but I insisted. "I gotta show you something." Again, he argued. Finally, I said, "It's really important."

We went back in the house, and while my husband filled his tea container, I pulled out the tests (I hid them in the closet). "Look," I said, and he turned around.

Flash forward 38 weeks. We were driving home from a friend's house the other night. Since the baby is basically due any day now, it's all I can talk about. We were chatting and I started to ask my husband about that day I told him we were pregnant. He looked over at me and the car drifted a little, driving into/over a curb that divides the north and south lanes. The tire ripped open, but my husband kept control of the car, pulling it to the side of the road.

I stood there while he cursed the portable jack and the car tire. It occurred to me that the situation was eerily familiar, and I thought about how lucky we were that our little one decided not to show up that night.