As soon as I knew the news, I wanted to tell my husband. I called him from the shopping centre at Canary Wharf; there's nowhere quiet, but it wasn't quite the lunchtime rush. He's not really supposed to answer his phone at work, so I knew he'd be a bit guarded.
"Hello?" he said.
"Hiya, it's me," I said. "Unfortunately we're not going to be able to go zorbing for your birthday."
"Oh," he said, still with his "professional" voice on.
"... Because I'm pregnant!"
"Right," he said. I knew he couldn't really talk, so it was really amusing to listen to his muted reaction. He continued, "And is that definite?"
"100%, the doctor said."
"OK. Thanks for letting me know." I smiled.
"See you later," I said.
When I did get home, he met me at the door with a massive hug, and a special dinner he'd cooked in honour of the occasion. A lovely evening.
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