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Curly or straight, up or down, does it really matter?

There’s a baby growing inside me, and it’s anywhere from a few days to a few months along.

It’s the fear of the unknown that’s getting to me right now. I’m holding a secret I need to share with somebody , but the only person I want to tell is Cooper, who’s currently getting ready to walk down the aisle as my father’s best man.

I can’t focus on anything except the rampant thoughts running through my brain—everything from whether the baby will have Cooper’s blue eyes or my green ones to how I’m going to do this when Cooper’s out of town and whether I’ll travel to games with the baby or if it’s better to stay home. Is it safe to bring a baby to a ballpark? What if a foul ball comes toward us? I’m terrified of those when I go to games anyway, let alone when I’m holding onto a newborn. Maybe I should just stay home. Or maybe I can watch from a box up high where I won’t need to worry about foul balls. Surely the manager’s family gets one of those even at away games, right?

It’s early, and I get that. It’ll take time to even get used to the idea, and there will be plenty of time to make those sorts of decisions.

Today’s not the day to focus on it, yet it’s all I can think about. When Wendy asked me if I wanted my hair curly or straight, I wondered if the baby would be born with a head full of curls or no hair at all. When Joanie asked if I wanted anything to eat, I wondered what sorts of foods the baby would like and whether what I eat now will promote different sorts of habits for this child as it grows.

Is it a boy or a girl?

What will we name him or her?

Does Cooper already have names picked out?

Some little girls dream of what they’ll name their babies, but that was never me. I don’t have a name in mind. In fact, when I try to think of names, I draw a total blank.

I know literally nothing about what it means to be pregnant, but when Joanie hands me a glass of champagne, I know I can’t drink it. So I fake a sip when she toasts me, and I set my glass down and pretend to forget about it.

I told Wendy to decide what to do with my hair, and she’s just about finished curling it. She’s about to start pinning portions of it up when a text from Cooper comes through.

Captain: Are you at home?

Nerves race through me. Will he know by my response? How do I act not pregnant when I am pregnant?

Me: Just finishing up hair.

I stare at the words before I click send just to make sure there’s nothing in them that he might decode as something wrong.

Captain: Just finished golfing. Heading home to shower.

Me: Did you win?

Captain: I was doing okay until I missed your call. I was worried when you didn’t text back.

Me: I’m sorry. Busy morning.

Captain: But everything’s okay, right?

What a loaded question. Is everything okay?

I’m not really sure.

I haven’t come to grips with any of this yet, and somehow I think that yes , everything will be okay once I tell him and once we tell my dad and it’s all out in the open.

But we’re running out of time.

Why did my dad choose today of all days to have this wedding? There’s so much to do. So much to tell him. So much to confess to. But I can’t do any of that today when he’s focused on getting married and we’re supposed to be keeping his stress levels low as he heads into spring training literally tomorrow.

I need time alone with Cooper, and I’m still torn as to whether to tell him tonight sometime or if I should wait until I see a doctor and confirm all this is true. Can I really wait an entire month to see him? Do I need to tell him in person? Or can I find some way to surprise him with the news?

I want to tell him in person. I want to see his face when I give him the news he’s wanted to hear his entire life. I want to share in that joy. I want him to take me in his arms and tell me how everything’s going to be okay.

I finally write him back.

Me: Everything’s okay. I’ll see you in a few hours.

Because it’s a quiet, last-minute ceremony, there’s no rehearsal. Instead, we’re all supposed to show up at the chapel at five for pictures. My dad and Joanie don’t believe in the superstitions about not seeing each other before the ceremony, so they’re doing first look photos and wedding party photos ahead of the ceremony, which starts at six. They’ll have a small, private reception in a ballroom at the Bellagio where I’ll have to dance with the best man and pretend like he didn’t put a baby in me and I’m not head over freaking heals in love with him.

Captain: I can’t wait. You’ll be gorgeous in your dress and even more gorgeous when I take it off you later. [water droplets emoji] [eggplant emoji]

My cheeks heat at his words and his dirty emojis.

Me: Looking forward to it, Captain. [firecracker emoji]

Time seems to slow down, and a strange sense of nervousness sets in as the clock slowly ticks closer and closer to five.

I eat my bagel along with the cream cheese when I realize I’m being silly, and I eat some finger sandwiches Joanie catered in, and I eat a huge salad. And some cookies. And another bagel. And some yogurt. I can’t seem to get full, and now I understand why.

A make-up artist comes in and works a miracle on me, and then it’s finally time to go. The nerves kick into high gear, or maybe it’s butterflies. I’m holding onto a brand-new secret that only two people in the entire world know about—the doctor at the urgent care and myself.

Secrets have a way of revealing themselves, though, and I wish I would’ve had the foresight to believe that long before the moment when it became too late.