My pregnancy did not feel real to me until my first dating ultrasound. I was 10 weeks and 5 days along on November 15th. Chris still had his Level 2 exam coming up, his last audition rotation for residency from mid November to December, and the holidays. I had no idea when would be the right time to tell him. He needed to focus on his upcoming exam. That was crucial, but he had already pushed it back and time was ticking by.
I thought…
Maybe I should tell him before Thanksgiving.
Maybe I should wait until after our trip to see family.
I should definitely wait until he finishes his board exam… I don’t want to be the reason he can’t focus.
Well now he’s away on his last audition rotation. I don’t want to tell him on a weekend just for him to leave again the next day. I want us to actually have time to process this together.
My mind was spinning.
More than anything, I wanted to be going through this with him. I wanted him there for the excitement, the fear, the million questions racing through my own head.
I knew I wanted him at my first prenatal appointment and time was running out.
So I picked a date.
The Saturday morning after he officially finished his away rotation, December 14th.
I bought congratulations balloons, flowers, a “Baby’s Coming” card, a cute little box for the positive pregnancy tests… and, naturally, some Snickers bars. I figured a little chocolate couldn’t hurt.
THE EXECUTION
So, how did it go?
I chickened out.
Completely.
When he got home, he looked at the balloons and flowers and asked what they were for.
“Oh… just to celebrate you finishing boards and your audition rotations.”
Which wasn’t exactly a lie.
But it definitely wasn’t the whole truth.
That night, I climbed into bed more frustrated with myself than I had been in weeks.
I had already scheduled my first prenatal appointment for the following Wednesday, and I still couldn’t work up the courage to tell the person I loved most.
So I made a deal with myself.
Tomorrow morning.
No excuses.
Nothing else happens until I tell him.
The next morning came much too soon.
I had spent half the night rehearsing different versions of the conversation and imagining every possible reaction.
When he woke up, he headed to the bathroom. I sat down at our dining room table and waited.
When he walked back out, he looked at me for a second or two before asking,
“Is something wrong?” I told him I needed to tell him something and that he should sit down.
I put my head in my hands for a second, trying to gather every ounce of courage I had left.
Then I looked up at him… and completely abandoned every carefully rehearsed speech.
“So… your swimmers found my egg.”
Silence.
He just stared at me.
I could almost see the gears turning.
I tried again.
“Your sperm…found my egg.”
Still processing.* *
Cringing at my awkwardness, I blurted out,
“I’m pregnant!”
“What?!”
I watched about fifteen different emotions cross his face all at once.
Excitement.
Disbelief.
Fear.
Joy.
Confusion.
I think we spent the next full minute going back and forth.
“Wait… actually?”
“Actually.”
Then he asked how far along I was.
I told him.
“Fifteen weeks.”
His eyes somehow got even bigger.
“Fifteen weeks?!”
I watched him do the math in his head.
“You’re practically done with the first trimester!”
Then he stood up and started pacing.
Questions started flying.
When did you find out?
How long have you known?
Have you gotten bloodwork?
Have you had an ultrasound?
Both of us in medicine, I had expected this.
I walked him through everything—the positive tests, the labs, the ultrasounds, all of it.
At one point, he actually handed me a piece of paper and asked me to write down the timeline. And so I did.
I explained why I had waited to tell him.
I knew he would have wanted to know sooner.
But I also knew how important boards and audition rotations were for his career, and I didn’t want him carrying the weight of all the unknowns while he was trying to finish one of the biggest seasons of his life.
Thankfully, he understood.
Then he looked at me and said,
“We have to tell our parents.”
My heart dropped.
“…Today?”
“We’re going to need help,” he said. “And I need to tell someone. Like… right now.”
Meanwhile, I had been carrying this by myself for eight weeks and had grown comfortable keeping it close, and suddenly he wanted to tell the world after one hour.
We compromised.
He would tell his parents, and I would tell my mom.
Then he asked one more question.
“Do you know the gender?”
I smiled. I knew he would want to know as soon as possible.
“About 99% sure.”
His whole face lit up.
But before I could answer, he stopped me.
“Don’t tell me yet.”
He walked over to his desk and grabbed a pink highlighter and a blue highlighter.
Then he picked up our oldest cat, Wilbur.
He set Wilbur down a few feet away from them.
Chris looked at me. “Wilbur is going to tell me.”
Wilbur took his time, looked around the room, and finally wandered over to the blue highlighter.
Chris looked back at me.
“Is it a boy?” I smiled.
“Yeah.” He smiled from ear to ear.
There was still nervousness. Still uncertainty.
But somehow, hearing that seemed to replace a little bit of the fear with excitement.
I felt relieved.
The secret I’d been carrying for weeks was now our adventure to begin together.
I had finally told him.
Dinner with my mom and the phone call to his parents approached. But everything felt a little lighter. 🤍
I’d love to hear your story, too.
If you’ve already been through this season, how did you tell your partner you were pregnant? Was it perfectly planned, or did it go completely off script like mine?
Share your story in the comments—I have a feeling I’m not the only one who panicked.