For a while after we got married, my husband and I started talking about children and all that fun stuff that married people talk about someday procreating more of us. We affectionately nicknamed this future fetus to be “the Ginger Asian”. We planned it would happen when it happened, and such is life, it happened far sooner than I anticipated though I’m no less overjoyed by this.

Yes, you read correctly. Another me is entering into this world, as long as nothing horribly bad occurs before then. My husband was far more excited about it than I thought, and I often wonder if he’s more excited than I am. I worry though, I always worry. I have a nasty habit of staying realistically pessimistic until I’m proven that things will work out. I’m still happy though, everything will happen as it’s supposed to.

So for the holidays, we gave our families a special gift: the announcement that a new baby will grace them with their presence. They clapped, and smiled and cheered for joy. We held them to secrecy, until today’s doctor’s appointment would confirm it because the last thing we wanted was a false positive that ended up to be cancer. Yes, that would be my luck.

I hope the world is ready for you, Ginger Asians, I’m sure you’ll take the world by storm.