"I'm gonna pee on a stick," I said. "Just for funsies," I said.

At 1 a.m. I have this horrible and desperate need to pee.  Mind you, I haven't been peeing any more or less lately.  I just need to pee.  You see... I'd spent the last 3-1/2 hours putting my 2-year-old to bed, and my bladder was done playing nice.

"Oh," I think, browsing Facebook as I trudge down the hall to the bathroom.  "I should pee on a stick.  It's been a while.  Just for funsies."  I do this every so often to -- you know -- make sure I'm not pregnant.  We aren't trying, but aren't preventing.  But we're definitely not trying.  We had a chemical over a year ago and that was the last we ever heard from my uterus, except for a monthly massacre in my panties.

Since I am on Facebook, I decide to update my mom's group.  They're just inundated with pregnancies since our 2-year-olds were born ... you know, 2 years ago.  We have several mamas with subsequent babies.  One was just born this morning.  "I HAVE TO PEE," I say, using all caps because obviously that's what you do when you announce to a group of women that you have to pee for no reason.  "SO I'M GONNA PEE ON A STICK."

So I pee on a stick.

Cue hyperventilation.  Cue "OMG."  Cue "WTF AM I GOING TO DO."  Cue "HOLY SHIT HOW WILL HE REACT."  Cue "WE CANNOT AFFORD THIS."  Cue "THIS SHIT IS BROKEN."  I post on my little mom's group on Facebook, without thinking.  "Oh.  Shit."  I mean, what else can I say?  Then I forget about it, all busy panicking and whatnot, and people think I'm making a big joke with getting people's hopes up when I don't respond.  I hyperventilate a little more.

So I take a digital, because obviously this shit is broken, people.

I message 3 of my best friends.  Only 1 is online because, well, it's 1 a.m.  The other two are off sleeping or some other bullcrap excuse.  Whatever.  Darn them anyway, having their own lives and whatnot.

Friend squeals for me.  She's excited.  She's happy.  "More cubs!  Yay cubs!"  I'm like "I AM SO SCREWED.  WHAT AM I GOING TO DO."  I keep thinking that my 2-year-old is still breastfeeding.  Still in my bed.  We are planning to move at some point this year.  I wanted to wait until our 2-year-old was like, 5.  This.  That.  The other thing.

Oh, and my mother-in-law is visiting tomorrow and I don't want her to know yet.

I finally trudge out of the bathroom.  Oh God, I have to tell him.  I stop in the hallway and call out to my husband, who is playing some stupid wrestling game before bed.  "Yes?" he responds, pausing as soon as he hears my voice.  He's good at that; recognizing when something's wrong, just by the sound of my voice.

"Well."  My face scrunches up.  I half-laugh, half-cry.  I don't know how I feel.  I'm just in shock.  I start laughing hysterically.  Then I start sobbing like my mom just died.

My husband stares at me blankly for a second, then says, "Oh, no you're not."

I nod.  I climb over the baby gate and almost trip and kill myself.  He shrinks back into his recliner and shakes his head.  "Uh-uh.  You aren't giving that to me."  He sees now that I have something in my hand.  I start laughing and shove it into his hands.  He doesn't even look at it; he knows what it is.  He starts grinning wildly.  I cry harder.  He laughs.  "Why are you crying?!?!"

"WHAT ARE WE GOING TO DO?!?!?!" I wail, for all the world a 13-year-old who accidentally let her mom's car get stolen.

He laughs again.  "We're going to have a baby!"

And that's that.

I cry some more.  I laugh a lot.  I bend over, holding my belly, just maniacal in my laughter.  "I'm pregnant.  Oh my God.  We're pregnant."

We honestly weren't sure we would ever get pregnant again.  We didn't want one right now.  We wanted to try in a few years.  We wanted to just enjoy our first, and concentrate on him.  Obviously, life has other plans.