I gave Tony my cell phone today. I wanted him to take "the call." In fact, I wasn't even home when the call came. I got home from doing some shopping and my cell phone was on the table and Tony was no where to be found. I grabbed the phone and checked for missed calls, none.
I put away groceries (which means I placed the unpacked bags directly into the refrigerator). I noticed in the fridge that Tony had bought a bottle of my favorite margarita mix. I had a sinking feeling in my stomach. Why did he buy that? He doesn't drink margaritas.
Then I went to find Tony and give him a tongue lashing "Kate Plus Eight" style. But he didn't have the phone for a good reason. He had already gotten the call. "We have four petri babies." Per Peggy the coordinator, who my husband called Betty, they look good. I'm pleased that she said they look good, but I can't imagine she would say, "You have four, but they look crappy."
Four! Four! Can you f*cking believe it?!?!?! I teared up a little bit, I was so happy. I'm thinking of cranking up the Hope-O-Meter, but I'm still feeling cautious. Another hurdle cleared...
Now we wait for the three day report. It seems so far away. Can I have a margarita tonight to celebrate or would that be a bad petri mommy thing to do?