Advanced apology for being so long winded! 

Our friends Bert & Amy arrived in Oxford on Thursday the 6th of March for a short visit.  We had dinner that night and discussed plans for the following evening, which obviously would include an extensive pub crawl.  For a few days I had felt a little off, but refused to get my hopes up that it was anything more than PMS.  But, when I heard we'd be going out for a night of drinking, I thought I'd just take a test the next morning so I'd feel better about it.  Well, I had to work Friday morning, and since our flat is soooo small, I thought it would be best to let our guests have our room, and we'd crash on the blow up mattress in the living room.  So we said goodnight, headed to bed, and it occurred to me that even though I had a pregnancy test, I had left it in our bedroom!  Through strained whispers, I convinced Jake to invade our guests space and rummage through my drawers looking for the test.  He begrudgingly agreed, and returned moments later with flushed cheeks & the test.   

That night, for the first time in literally years, I awoke and needed to use the toilet.  In hindsight, a definite sign, but at the time just an inconvenience.  I woke up the next morning quite nervous, deep down knowing the answer, but even deeper down worried that I'd fooled myself.  The test said I had to wait 3 minutes, but almost instantly two lines started to appear.  It's 6 a.m., our jet-lagged guests are feet away and I'm in the bathroom trying desperately not to freak out.  I race back into the living room test in hand, turn all the lights on, wake Jake, and try to explain the situation in hysterical whispers, again trying not to wake our guests.  My hands were shaking, Jake was dumb founded.  We just sat there, in our living room, on an inflatable bed, dumb founded.  Eventually I remembered that just because I found out I was pregnant, didn't mean I didn't have to go to work, and returned to the bathroom to shower.  We decided not to say a word to anyone yet (except I had permission to tell Brooke/Kristi - but seeing how they both have babies a few weeks old - neither answered the phone!).  On my walk to work I called the doctor's office closest to our flat to see how to go about joining.  The plan was to  stop in after work to register and then make an appointment.  All day at work, I was a zombie.  Trying to digest it, and deciding whether or not I actually believed it.  More tests.  That's what I needed, more tests.  After work I made three stops before heading home.  1.) The chemist, for more tests!  2.) Borders, for "What to Expect When You're Expecting" and 3.)The doctors.  So far, I love the NHS.  All I had to do was fill out two forms, and then they were going to cover my pregnancy & delivery.  Wonderful!  I went to hand in my form and make an appointment, when the receptionist told me that the midwife had a cancellation and I could see her now.  My jaw literally dropped and the receptionist laughed out loud.  I stammered trying desperately to find an excuse not to see her, but then reluctantly agreed.  I needed more notice to prepare, but I was there, so why not?  My midwife, Gina, is amazing.  Pre-natal (or Ante-natal in Britain) care in the UK is with a midwife unless there are complications.  Very few people have an OB/GYN.  So bizarre.  But, still, Gina put my mind to rest.  I had had visions of me meeting and interviewing dozens of midwives before deciding, but nope, Gina's the one.  I got loads of handouts, made some future appointments, discussed what to do/not to do, and went home feeling like it was all a little more real, but that I still definately needed more tests.  So, Jake & I sitting on one sofa - our guests on the other, I relayed all the information through typing on the computer, so as to not tip them off.  And then we headed for the pub crawl.  Already I felt more tired than usual, and this was going to be a long night.  Jake would buy me non-alcoholic sparkling cider all night trying to fool our friends, and I just felt guilty the whole time for being a horrible host.  I was tired and boring and completely preoccupied.  Sorry Bert & Amy! 

Bright & early Saturday morning I woke up and took another test.  Different brand, same result.  Still pregnant.  Not as surprising, but still made my hands shake.  Then we were off to London.  I felt horrible, woozey and a bit of a headache, but I feel that was from two days with no caffeine and nothing to do with being pregnant.  I was desperate to read my preggo book on the coach ride to London, but to throw our friends off the scent I put the jacket cover to Goldie Hawn's autobiography on it and knew no one would ask to see that!  In London Jake offered me peanuts, which my midwife had told me to steer clear of, and then he ordered me potatoe skins with beef & stilton, which I would have loved, but blue veined cheese is a no-no.  Argh.  So much to remember.  I kept thinking of the episode of Friends where Rachel finds out she's pregnant and keeps drinking the champagne and then spitting it out.  That was exactly how I felt.  I kept forgetting I was pregnant, and then I'd remember and fear I'd done something wrong. 

Sunday morning Jake & I decided that we owed our guests an explanation to our bizarre and sometimes erratic behavior, and that we would tell them, but we should tell our family first.  We headed to Jake's office under the pretence of IRS paperwork, and proceeded to call our parents.  My mum was in church, and a real pain to get a hold of, but Jake's parents and sister were home.  He spoke to Marcia first and just blurted it out.  The conversation then proceeded as "Mom.  Mom are you still there?  Can you talk?  Mom, why don't you give the phone to Dad until you can talk."  Priceless.  Marcia had apparently imploded.  She later told me that just a couple days earlier when having a conversation about what they'd do with powerball winnings, she would buy herself some grandchildren.    Jake then told Ed & Casey, and then I had to talk to them, and then Marcia was able to speak to Jake again.  Telling people made it feel so real, and sooooo bizarre.  I tried my mum's cell a million times, and my sister's house, and then finally my sister's cell, and by a miracle, my mum answered.  Naturally she assumed something was wrong, and was pleasantly surprised when I blurted out, that I was indeed pregnant.  She was shocked but obviously pleased.  We chatted for a while and then since church had let out I was able to tell my sister the good news.  Then the phone calls went on to all our closest family and friends (except Brooke/Kristi who still were too "busy" to answer their phones!).  We returned to the flat to tell our friends, but thinking that they must know.  Nope, they were quite surprised!  But good gracious did it feel good after that to be able to talk about it without whispering!  And to have some understanding for why we were being crazy. 

Monday our friends left, I went to work and told my friend Nikky (so far, the only person in the UK to know), and that's about it.  By Monday night I had lost 4 pounds, finally got a hold of Brooke and Kristi, and had almost accepted that I might be pregnant.