If you missed it, read the beginning of this story, called “Finding Out I’m Pregnant.”
How I Told My Husband He’s Going to Be a Father

After the shock wore off and I ceased gaping at the wonderful pee stick that announced the good news that I was, in fact, for the first time, pregnant, I set down the pregnancy test and skipped into the bedroom. I crawled in bed next to my husband, on HIS side, and said softly, “Honey, I’m pregnant.”

He stirred as my words sunk in. “Really?” he asked.

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The happiest day of my life.

The happiest day of my life after my wedding day and before the day my son was born, was the day I found out I was pregnant.

I have mentioned before that my husband and I had wanted to have a baby for quite some time. From the first time we agreed to try to conceive to the moment of that positive pregnancy test was nearly three years.

I had spent a week at work feeling tired and strangely out of breath. I remember telling my boss as I was cleaning one day that I felt weird and jokingly told her, “Ha! Maybe I’m pregnant!” She said, “You better take a test.” I laughed it off at the time, but the more I thought about it the more I realized I had never quite felt the way I did.

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Why Can’t I Get Pregnant?

Like so many others, my husband and I felt the sting of trying and seemingly failing to conceive a child.

About three years into our marriage, we decided we were ready to start a family. Naturally, we believed pure willpower and the act of not preventing was enough to accomplish this. So that very month, when it didn’t happen, we were terribly disappointed.

I took it much harder than my husband did. Let me rephrase. I took it personally. After months of my period rearing its ugly head while bearing the news that I was not pregnant. I was certain I was barren. I admit that, somehow, rational or not, I felt like less of a woman for not “accomplishing the task” of pregnancy.

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