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There is a brown bib hanging in our spare room closet, it has green lettering and says “Daddy’s Little Monster”. My husband calls our dogs little monsters (affectionately), so when I was shopping for my best friend’s first baby, back in May 2012, it seemed like an appropriate purchase for myself and J since we were about to start trying for a baby of our own. It is the only baby related item I own (besides a pregnancy book). Two and a half years down the road, I began to wonder if that bib was cursing our efforts (I know that’s not reasonable, but it started to feel like a bad omen).
On Dec. 20 when I got my first ever positive pregnancy test I took the bib out of the closet, put it on one of my dogs and sent him to my husband. He looked at the dog, looked at me and I held out the positive test to him. “Really?” he asked, incredulously. I nodded, and he pulled me close and tight. At that moment I began to cry, uncontrollable, gaspy sobs. All of the emotional weight I had been carrying poured out of my eyes and onto his chest. It felt so cathartic, and I didn’t realise the force that was behind them until they sprang forward. Here’s hoping for happy tears only, for the remainder of this pregnancy.