Three women sit at a bar height table in a suburban tavern. Chatting about imminent Thanksgiving preparations and exchanging sentiments of disbelief that Christmas and the end of 2012 are right around the corner. It’s been a year of adventures – a new pre-school for some and new home for one – they all agree: the only thing that is constant in this life is change.

The night winds down. One of the women is a little more flushed than the others. She is refreshed by the cold, contrasting November air that hits her face as she leaves the tavern. Quick hugs good bye and an even quicker walk to her car. She smiles to herself as she has a hunch. She sleeps quickly knowing it will have to be morning before she can confirm it.

She wakes up with anticipation, takes the test as planned, and is faced with the results she was expecting. Validation. She silently guards her secret; only acknowledging the emerging soul inside her with the hopes and prayers she throws toward the sky; hopeful that they reach their destination.  The words:  “I’m pregnant.” don’t cross her lips.

The next day she takes another test. She feels confident. Fortunate. Thankful. Another workday passes and she decides that she can no longer keep this secret to herself. After all, it is not hers alone to keep.

She gathers her little boys home. Excited to have an extended break with her family, she guides them through a Thanksgiving craft. Hand print turkeys. A classic. They are unknowing, but willing participants in the reveal.thanksgiving craft1

Her husband smiles at her after being presented with the crafts. “Really?” he asks.  His smile widens across his face.  They have been waiting for this news.

That night they leave for New York City.  A holiday road trip to enjoy the company of loved ones that they can’t manage to see enough and a side of the Thanksgiving Day parade.  But first, a detour to her parents’ house. She stands in the kitchen of her childhood home. She doesn’t have an inspired script or clever plan to speak of, but is certain that the right words will be there when she needs them.  She says the first thing that comes to mind. “There will be an itty bitty baby at our Thanksgiving table – my baby. MY baby.” she tells her mother.

Her heart was always overflowing with reasons to be thankful, but this year, she makes room for one more.