Violet
I can do this.
Women do this all the time, and it’s not as though it’s even particularly difficult. I mean, I don’t want to insinuate that anyone who can’t figure this out is an idiot, but they’re most likely idiots.
But maybe—just to be safe, mind you—I’ll read the instructions one more time.
Five seconds. Got it.
The thing is, I got some tips from a blog after typing ‘tips for taking a pregnancy test’ into Google, and now I’m not sure if I bought the right test because tip number one was choose the right HPT. What in the hell is an HPT? I had a whole shelf to choose from at Waitrose and I don’t recall seeing that on any of them. I grabbed one that promised rapid results and ninety-nine percent accuracy and put it in my basket next to the Dairy Milk buttons and the multipack of Jaffa Cakes because I’m probably pregnant and I deserve them.
Anyway, tip number one was choose the right HPT. The next tip was wait for the results. Duh. The post actually suggested I take a break and sip on a cup of tea or coffee while waiting. So dumb.
“Babe, can you bring me a cup of tea?”
“Violet, just pee on the stick. It’s quite literally the only direction on the box. I don’t understand why you keep reading it over and over again, love.” He tosses the empty box onto the vanity where it lands with a hollow thud.
Tip number three was check the expiration date on the test, which I’ve done of course, but the way they list the date before month in the UK still throws me a little.
“Does that test expire on the seventh of October or the tenth of July?”
“It expires on the seventh of October,” Jennings says patiently. He’s going to be such a good dad. “Two years from now,” he adds with a bit of sarcasm.
“It could be twins, you know,” I say, mostly just to mess with him. The confidence on his face falters a bit as he reaches over to pick up the box again. “There isn’t a home test for twins. We’d have to wait until the first ultrasound to find out.” Assuming they both showed up at the first ultrasound. My mom was six months along before they found the second heartbeat. Holy crap, it really could be twins.
“Right.” He clears his throat. “Well, a twofer would be lovely.”
“A twofer? Did you just refer to the idea of me carrying two babies at the same time as a twofer? As if I’m carrying a twin pack of chocolate biscuits?”
“Would you prefer I call it a twin win?” He shrugs, unbothered by my reply. “I’m almost forty, love. I’d be quite chuffed to hit the ground running with two.”
Dammit.
I’m positive he ups the British word count when I’m on the edge of being cross with him. He knows it’s my weakness. He can get away with just about anything if he tosses in words like ‘knackered’ or ‘gutted’ into a sentence.
It occurs to me then that I’m going to have a British baby.
Do you know what’s great about British babies?
Everything.
I mean, I know they’re basically the same as American babies, but they have super-cool names like Poppy or Pippa. Amelia or Isla. Oscar or George. Well, maybe not George. Then when they get around to speaking it’s in a British accent and let me tell you, a child having a tantrum in Waitrose with a British accent is about a hundred times less annoying than a child having a tantrum in Wal-Mart in an American accent. It’s a fact. Wait a minute…
Oh.
My.
God.
“They’re going to call me Mummy.” I say it as a matter of fact as I drop my pants and sit. I don’t even care that Jennings is still standing in the bathroom with me because we’ve been married a while now and way past tiptoeing around one another in the loo. I hold out my hand for the stick and Jennings hands it to me.
“Er, yes. I suppose so. Though I’m certain we could teach them to call you Mom if you prefer it.”
“No!” I shake my head. “Are you crazy? I get to be a mum!” I finish with the test and snap the cap over the absorbent tip before placing it on the counter. “Don’t look at it without me!” I warn as I flush and wiggle my pants up, then wash my hands. Jennings wisely doesn’t move from his position leaning against the wall. “Has it been sixty seconds yet?”
“More like fourteen.”
“Oh.”
I manage to keep my eyes on his for another three seconds before I give up on patience and move to the counter, leaning over the test with my elbows braced on the counter and my chin resting on my hand. Jennings moves behind me, his arms bracketing mine as he leans in and dips his head next to mine.