I stop off at Duane Reade on the way to work the next morning and find a test that promises to tell you if you’re pregnant six days before you even miss a period. Incredible technology, really. This must be the one Majella was talking about. I’ve been saving my morning urine per Sadhbh’s orders, so by the time I get to the office I’m absolutely bursting and hopping from foot to foot. I slip into the unisex toilet in the lobby so I’ll have less chance of bumping into Aubrey or one of the others from upstairs. There’s a rumour that people save all their number twos for this one, so I’ve been avoiding it, but thankfully it’s empty when I rush in and dive straight into a cubicle. No horrific smells either. With a shaky hand, I follow the instructions carefully and hold the little white spongy part of the stick under the stream of widdle, which is more like a waterfall, really. It’s supposed to take three minutes to give you a reading, but I’m still weeing when the second line shows up. I double-check the pamphlet just to be sure that means what I think it means. Pregnant. One hundred per cent pregnant. When I text Sadhbh to tell her, she reminds me that I have loads of time to think things over and that she’s here for the chats if I need her.
I tell Mandy I need Meeting Room 1 the whole day to research the Dublin events market in private, but instead I do up a pros and cons list called ‘Have This Baby???’ and stare at it for three hours. I feel so, so guilty for putting anything at all on the cons side, even though ‘It might hate me’, ‘I might hate it’ and ‘Mandy will never forgive me for not telling her when taking the job’ are all very valid.
I cry three times when making the pros list. Once when I write that it might have Daddy’s eyes, once when I write that it might have John’s little dimple and once when I just write ‘tiny socks’.
****
After several sleepless nights and two instances of avoiding John’s FaceTimes by saying I’m working late, the following week I decide I’d better go see a doctor and find an anonymous-looking walk-in clinic on Second Avenue that can squeeze me in on my lunch break. I wear my good knickers just in case, but I don’t have to take them off in the end. The kind-faced doctor does another test and explains that I’m definitely pregnant, although a perfectly formed waving hand is not expected at this early stage. Going by my dates I’m around five weeks along, which initially gives me a land, but then she reminds me that they count it from the first day of your last period so it still makes sense for it to be a Christmas baby. I know the menstrual tracker app is just trying to steal and sell my data but it is fierce handy at the same time.
She’s very gentle in asking me about birth control and says she’s always interested when it’s an unexpected pregnancy. I tell her I suspect it was St Stephenses Day because we didn’t use a condom – I have to look at the floor while admitting that – and that I’d had a bit of a bad belly after my flight from New York so maybe my pill hadn’t kicked in. I’m nearly falling over myself to tell her I usually double up, but she says she’s seen people get pregnant no matter what they do. It’s a wonder we’re not all walking around pregnant all the time. Sister Assumpta had a point in school about abstinence being the only sure-fire way to avoid it. I’d like to see her resist John on St Stephenses night, though.
I spend the next week revising my pros and cons list and trying to imagine me and John with a baby. A family of three. Planning the FYI Testing rooftop launch party downtown keeps me from googling early pregnancy symptoms in work, but I still can’t bring myself to talk to John on FaceTime until I’ve made my decision. He notices I’ve been dodging him and sends a string of panicked texts on Tuesday, worrying that he’s done something to make me mad. I tell him I’m up to my eyes with Mandy’s demands, which is actually half true. The FYI Testing people want a skywriter at short notice and it’s up to me to find one. On Wednesday I finally call Sadhbh back. She answers the phone after two rings. Surely a record for her.
‘Sadhbh, I need your help.’
‘I told you, Ais, I’ll do anything. Never be afraid to ask.’
I pause. ‘Well, this baby is going to need an auntie with good taste in clothes.’
Her scream is so loud I have to hold the phone away from my ear. ‘You’re having the baby?’
I gulp. ‘I’m having the baby.’
‘Have you told him?’
‘We’re FaceTiming later.’
‘I genuinely think he’s going to be really excited, but are you prepared in case …’ She trails off but I know what she means. In case John decides he’s not ready for this. In case I have to go it alone.
‘I am. I’ll cross that bridge if I come to it.’
‘I’ll start researching the internet’s chicest and most tasteful onesies immediately.’
****
I tell Mandy I’m taking a personal day to mull over her offer and distract myself cleaning the apartment until it’s time to call John. He has a meeting with the enterprise board until five Irish time, and I take at least fifteen breaks to pace the apartment while I wait for his text to say he’s home. As the time on my phone clicks to two minutes past twelve, it finally pops up.
‘Finished! x’
I take a deep breath, settle myself on the bed with my back against the wall and pile pillows on my lap so I can hold my phone comfortably at arm’s length and face height. His smiling profile picture fills the screen before his actual one takes over.
‘Hiya!’ He’s beaming. The meeting must have gone well. ‘Long time no see!’
‘Hiya. Yeah, sorry … I’ve been up the walls.’ I’m shy, like I’ve been so many times when faced with him over the years. I don’t think it’ll ever go away.
‘I was so worried you were avoiding me. My mother accused me of having a gambling problem I had such a face on me. She thinks everyone has a gambling problem.’
‘Sorry, sorry. Don’t be worrying. How was the meeting?’
‘So, the grant’s pretty much in place. I’ve priced a lad to do the plastering and now know more about gym flooring than I ever thought was possible.’
‘Brilliant! You have loads done already. Great about the grant. Plastering, brilliant. Floors. Floors are great.’ I’m babbling. The nerves have overtaken me. I’d say my blood pressure right now would put me in the ICU.
John is looking at me like I have five heads. ‘Have you been out on the sauce with your one from Sticks and Stones again?’
‘Tara’s blog is called Stilettos and Skyscrapers, and no, I haven’t actually.’ This gives me an in, and I go for it. ‘The opposite, actually.’
He laughs. ‘What’s the opposite of boozing with Tara? Going to a funeral?’
Okay, no. I’m not going to dance around it. I’m just going to say it out loud and be mature about it.
‘John?’
‘Yeaaah?’ He looks suddenly concerned.
‘I –’ God, my mouth is dry. I have to get the words out. ‘I am p-pregnant.’
I smash my face down into the pillows, my entire body bubbling up through my throat with nerves and excitement and fear. There’s two seconds of silence before he speaks again.
‘Are you messing?’ His voice is urgent.
‘No, I’m due in September,’ I mumble into the pillow.
‘Show me your face. Seriously. Are you messing, Aisling?’
I bring my red face up to show him. Why am I so shy? There’s something about this most shared and intimate thing that has me mortified and thrilled all at the same time. I take a deep breath. ‘I am not messing. I am six weeks pregnant with our baby, and I’m sorry I’m doing this over the phone but I’ve known for a couple of weeks now and it was time I told you.’
‘Oh my God.’ His hand comes up to his mouth and then his forehead. He starts to smile like he can’t fight it. But then he looks confused. ‘But it’s not like … I mean you’re on the pill and we use condom–’
‘We didn’t on St Stephenses Night, and the pill is only –’
‘Ninety-nine per cent effective.’ He says it in kind of a trance. Then he starts to smile again, and I smile back at him. ‘Are you really not messing?’
I shake my head.
‘And are you happy?’
‘I think so. I mean, it took a while to sink in. It’s a bit unexpected. And scary.’ Then I bite the bullet. ‘How do you feel about it? I know you just found out. You might be in shock. I know I was for a while.’
‘I’m delighted.’ He says it so fast that I’m flooded with relief. He doesn’t even need to think about it. ‘Holy fuck, Aisling. Things have escalated.’
‘I know.’
‘Did you do all the tests and everything? The piss sticks?’ We both burst out laughing.
‘I’ve done twelve. I’ll send you a picture of them all. I was going to wait to tell you when I get home but –’
‘Ah no, I’m so glad I know. Jesus Christ. Oh my God. We’re going to have a baby. I’m going to be a dad. Ais, this would be a really good time to say you’ll marry me.’
‘Focus, John! There’s another thing, too.’
‘There’s more? I think I might need a drink.’ He’s smiling, though, so I know he’s only messing.
‘Mandy’s after offering me a new job. In Dublin but on a New York salary. She’s expanding into Europe and she’s offered me the chief operating officer role. I’d be overseeing the start-up and basically in charge of getting everything off the ground. I’ve decided to take it. What do you think?’
‘Ais, that’s brilliant! When you were talking about coming home I was trying to imagine you behind the counter in Filan’s and I just couldn’t.’
‘Excuse me, I did a summer in Filan’s when I was seventeen and my 99s were perfectly proportioned every time.’
His face falls. ‘But the baby? Is Mandy going to lose her mind when she finds out you’ll have to go on maternity leave?’
I shrug. ‘If she does, she does. And I can work for another eight months. Aubrey will manage and it’s just a job. This baby is bigger than all that … this is life. This is us, John.’
His face grows serious. ‘And you know I’ll support you with all this, don’t you? We’ll figure out all the logistics as a team.’
I nod. ‘I do, but it’s nice to hear you say it too.’
‘And how are you feeling? Do you have morning sickness or anything? Is there anything you need? Should I come out and mind you?’
‘No! No. I’m totally fine, apart from being a bit tired. I had a check-up last week. I’m grand. So is the baby. I’m a bit behind on my folic acid but I’m taking it now.’
‘What’s folic acid?’
‘I’ll fill you in when I get home. And John, I don’t want you worrying about anything. We have so much time. I am the tiniest bit pregnant. Like, you don’t start telling people for another month and a half.’
‘Do you not? Okay, so I won’t tell anyone so?’
‘Oh no, don’t. Not yet. My mother doesn’t even know.’
‘Is it not weird that we won’t be living together? God, I’m still staying at my mother’s. We’ll need two bedrooms, won’t we? At least. What about the apartments –?’
‘It’s okay, John, please let’s not stress about that for now. I need to get home from New York first. Let me get over that hurdle and then we get into planning. And Sadhbh says I can stay with her in Ranelagh when I start the job, and you can stay as much as you like too. She has loads of room. We’ll figure it out.’
‘Jesus, Ais, I can’t believe it. Two months ago I was a million miles away from this, and now I can’t imagine being anywhere else. I cannot wait to see you.’
‘Me neither. Not long now.’
****
Three days later I splash some cold water on my eyes in the bathroom in Dublin Airport before going out to wait for my two huge suitcases. The Irish Mafia threw me a going-away party last night and although I wasn’t drinking, I have a social hangover. When I told Mandy I’d take the job she upgraded me to business class, and I slept for six hours on the plane. Didn’t even watch one whole film and I missed the sandwiches they served for supper. If I wasn’t pregnant, I’d think I was dying. I brush my hair, scrub at my teeth with the tiny Aer Lingus toothbrush and rub some lip balm on my dry lips. I know John is waiting for me in Arrivals, and the thought of seeing him fills me with such anticipation my knees are shaking. I still have to make it through the baggage-claim wait, so I put in my earphones and put on some ocean sounds, trying to drown out the crankiness of my fellow travellers until I can give John the biggest hug of my life. Another perk of business class is your bags come out first, so I’m not actually waiting that long. I take a suitcase handle in each hand and start to walk towards the Nothing to Declare customs line, feeling like I have the best thing ever to declare, actually.
His are the first eyes I meet when I walk through the door and I stop dead. The woman behind me tuts and loud whispers ‘Sake!’ at me. I don’t give a shite, though, because John’s big strong arms are around me in a split second.
‘Welcome home,’ he whispers into my hair. ‘I love you.’ I just tighten my arms around him. Then he drops down to his knees and speaks directly to my bellybutton: ‘And I love you too.’
I burst out laughing, mortified, and he’s at eye level again.
‘I was going to get you flowers but they were crap and mad money in the petrol station, and I knew you’d be raging.’
And with that, I’m home to the love of my life.