“I think we’re pregnant.”

Remarkably, I wasn’t really shocked or surprise. I didn’t get that amazing rush of light or anything else. It was good, and I got happy about it. But not screaming exciting. She tried again, still positive. And then another in the morning.

When I left the next day for Illinois, she was at 3 out of 4 tests positive. The fourth was a botch, so no score, but we kept it as our nervous “maybe it isn’t real”. She asked me to not tell anyone until we got to the doctor.

Which is really hard for me.

I spent an entirely long weekend with my family. My brother telling me to get tested for fertility and me silently screaming “I already know the answer.” Or my dad giving me lists of things I have to get done before we really had a child and me wincing internally with the realization that I am completely boned on all of them. But, surprisingly, I managed to keep my mouth silent.

I got home to find out the score was 6 out of 7 pregnancy tests said she was pregnant.

On Monday, we went into the doctor. I took the day off to relax, but I sure as hell never got there. She confirmed it and told Fluffy she didn’t need to keep testing. Got our estimated due date, August 22. We had a short talk and then we were off.

It was a that moment I found out that Fluffy planned how to tell her mother for years. And it involved me driving 60 miles to almost every mall to find the devices she needed. We didn’t find them, apparently “World’s Greatest Grandma” shirts are hard to find, but we did get something. Then, we had to kill time until her mother came home so we could deliver it in person.

Then Fluffy got her screams and jumping.

I told my family that night and the next day. They were happy, but not the jumping, bouncing, and screaming excitement that her family came with. Just different I guess, but still good.

We talked about this for eight years. It was part of the “Salmon Plan” (Fluffy wanted to return to her birthplace, have children, and die… in eighty years) and something we worked at for such a long time. We moved to Iowa to have children, I got a new job and, very sadly, left my friends in Illinois to move here.

My co-workers keep telling me that I’ll suddenly feel it when I hear the heartbeat, hold the little M&M (mini Moonfire), or a ton of other things, but I wonder if I will. Just like not knowing how I would respond to death or terrible things, I honestly have no clue how I’m going to react to this.

I also wonder if I’ll be a good parent, but you know what? Hundreds of generations had no clue what they were doing either and we are still around. I’m pretty sure I can fumble through this without too much of a serious problem.

Still waiting for my heart to explode.