The full story:
About six years ago I found out I was pregnant with Henry. The pregnancy was totally planned so I shouldn't have been worried about telling Randy the news, but I was. Everytime I would even mention the word, "baby" in the first five years of our marriage Randy would get this look on his face-- like I had just kicked him in the crotch or something. So anyway, the prospect of being a mom was really exciting for me, and I guess I would say, less than exciting for Randy. Rather than taking the risk of seeing his "less than excited" face when I told him the news, I left a picture of a positive pregnancy test and taped to the bathroom mirror before slipping out the door to make it to my early morning job with Randy still sleeping.
A couple hours later Randy called me at work and he seemed pretty mellow about the whole thing. He wasn't ecstatic, but he was way calmer than I anticipated. It wasn't until a few years later that I learned why Randy took the news of becomming a dad so well. He thought I was experiencing hysterical pregnancy. Yeah. My husband thought I wanted a baby so bad that I imagined the whole thing up--missed periods, sore boobs, the constant urge to throw up, etc, etc. What a freak!
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