Marie is 13 weeks pregnant!!!

We're having a baby!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

First, an apology.

I’ve been lying to you since this post. I wrote that two days after Marie told me that she was six weeks pregnant. For the last seven weeks, I’ve been dying to announce that my beautiful, amazing wife is pregnant with our son.

I’m so happy sometimes I can barely breathe.

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Here’s how it happened.

On Friday, January 27th, I returned home late one night (late for us, so like 6:30pm). For the previous three days, I had been commuting to a sales conference about 45 minutes away. It was the first prolonged stretch of being away from home since before COVID. Being gone most of the day for three straight days felt like an eternity. And seeing so many faces and engaging with so many personalities for the first time since 2019 was surprisingly draining. All I wanted to do was collapse on the couch, rub my wife’s feet and zone out to mindless television.

And that was what we were doing. But Marie kept trying to give me a book.

“Here,” Marie said, handing me a large, black book without a title.

“Thanks,” I said. I took it from her, placed it on the couch next to me, then returned to rubbing her feet and watching some movie.

“Open it,” Marie said.

“Babe, can I open it tomorrow?”

“Babe, open the damn book!”

I laughed. And I did. And I loved it. It was a collection of pictures from our relationship that I’ll cherish forever.

“I love it,” I told her, closing the book. “It’s the best gift you’ve ever given me.”

I leaned over and kissed her.

“You skipped the last page.”

I reopened the book and flipped to the end. An envelope was taped to the back cover. I opened it. And this is what I found.

I won’t share the whole card, but it started like this:

My vision started to blur. I couldn’t finish the card.

“Seriously?”

“I found out Wednesday,” Marie replied, grinning coyly. She didn’t tell me because she knew I wouldn’t be able to concentrate for the three day conference. She was right.

My brain went cloudy. I could barely speak. I forgot how to breathe. I knew what was happening, but I lost the ability to form coherent words other than “I love you” and “Wow” and “Oh my God.”

As long as I live, I’ll never forget that moment. It lasted for about ten minutes.

I felt serenity. I felt love — for Marie, for the human growing inside her, for my family, for mankind, for the world and every living creature on it. I instantly forgave everyone who had ever wronged me. I felt the most profound gratitude I’ve ever experienced — to Marie, to God, to my parents, for every step and misstep from the day I was born that allowed me to arrive at that moment, but mostly to Marie.

I couldn’t stop looking at her, couldn’t stop telling her how much I loved her. My eyes welled. I struggled to breathe I was so happy. I feel a lump in my throat as I’m writing this.

I prayed. I almost never go to church and do not consider myself particularly religious, but I prayed. I thanked God for His grace and begged Him to protect us and Marie’s pregnancy.

“Wow. Lucy was right” was the first thing I said when the spell finally broke.

Lucy’s boastful pride about the bountiful wombs in her clan turned out not to be boasts at all. They were mere statements of fact.

“Holy shit,” I said, trying to wrap my head around the enormity of the change to come.

“Yep.”

“This is real.”

“Yep.”

“Like really, really real.”

“You absolutely cannot tell anyone until week 12,” said Marie. She then explained that the risk of miscarriage was too high until then.

I thought about the blog.

“I’m going to have to make shit up for six weeks.”

“Yep,” she agreed. “Now. Go get us food.”

I did. Waiting in line at Cedar Palace in Lincoln Park, I stood behind two girls in their twenties. They were chatting with their back to me.

“My wife is six weeks pregnant,” I told them. I had to tell someone.

They turned and congratulated me.

The rest of the evening is a blur. I was exhausted and overwhelmed and scared and filled with joy and insecurity. And I was utterly happy.

The last thing that I remember from the evening was staring at the ceiling in the dark as we lay in bed. I smiled. I thanked God again. I rolled over and looked at my wife. She was already snoring. I wanted to wake her up and babble at her some more. I decided to let her sleep. Her and the baby.

Thanks for sharing this journey with us. It’s about to get more exciting. 27 weeks!