I wanted to write this and post it on Friday, but the cable was out from Thursday until tonight.

A year ago, on the Friday before Memorial Day, Jill was the first person who knew I was pregnant. She  figured it out before I did, because that Wednesday, I had horrible cramps and was certain that I wasn’t freaking pregnant yet again.

Thursday, I fell asleep after lunch and slept all afternoon.

Friday, I fell asleep after lunch and slept all afternoon. I woke up still upset because I wasn’t pregnant AND I still hadn’t gotten my freaking period.

Jill had a rough day that day too. We decided to go for a "comfort food" dinner, and conveniently enough, there was an I-HOP in walking distance of the place she was renting. (This was while I had already moved, but she was still in DC in a temporary place.)

When we got to the restaurant, I ordered chocolate chip pancakes, with a side of broccoli.

And I didn’t think that was weird.

As we walked home after dinner, Jill pointed out that it was an unorthodox dinner, and hadn’t I slept quite a bit that day, and the day before?

We didn’t go out and buy a home pregnancy test. We decided that we couldn’t handle knowing that I wasn’t, so we’d wait. But, we agreed, we were cautiously optimistic that I might be pregnant.

I am a huge blabbermouth about myself, so when we had dinner the next day with our friends Erin & Kevin, and their kids McKenna & Dillon, we told them that. Heh. And I wasn’t struck down for my presumptiousness!

Sunday of Memorial Day Weekend, Jill was in rehersal nearly all day. I had another craving for fruit & veggies, so I hit the grocery store, and while I was there, realized that I could, in fact, find out whether or not I was pregnant.

Along with raspberries and carrots, I bought the fancy, no-ambiguity, "pregnant/not pregnant" readout, idiot-proof home pregnancy test, and sure enough, it said I was pregnant. I scared the crap out of Jill when she got home, waving the test in her face. Fortunately, she still gave the performance of her life the next evening at showtime.

Later that week, the RE confirmed it with a blood test. He also scared the crap out of us by leaving a message on the home machine on Friday at 4:30, asking me to come in ASAP for an ultrasound "so they could determine how many there were in there" because my HCG levels were extremely high.

There had been 3 ripe eggs at the time of the insemination, and we spent the weekend saying to each other, "Oh shit. OK, if it’s twins, we can handle that. We think. But triplets? What if it’s triplets? Oh shit. What if it’s triplets??? Can we handle that??? Oh shit."

It wasn’t, of course. It was just Noah, and lots and lots of hormones.

All this by way of saying that we went out to dinner at IHOP on Friday, Noah charmed the waitress, and no one had chocolate chip pancakes OR broccoli. And it was a very happy anniversary.