Pregnant (short story) by Leanne Dyck

This story was inspired by imagining what it was like when my 35-year-old mother told my 42-year-old father she suspected she was pregnant. 

photo by a nurse (I'm guessing)

'Dad, Mom and me (I'm five days old)'

Pregnant

Before he left for work, she gave him his customary two kisses along with "I'm late" and "Next month, I turn thirty-four. It could be the change or..." Pregnant passed between them in a smile. He'd left with that smile, and it remained with him for most of the day—like lyrics from a favourite song.

His youngest son was seven. His oldest twelve. He thought the months of diaper changes and early morning feedings were behind him. Still, he filled out forms, sorted mail, sold stamps with an extra supply of glee. He whistled while he worked.

"You're happy today, Jim." His assistant Lorna caught herself in time to add. "Not that you're usually grumpy." She chuckled. "Oh, you know what I mean."

He wanted so badly to tell her, to share the joy, but it was too early. They didn't know yet. It could be the change. But what if she was pregnant and there was something wrong with the baby? What if...? 34? The older the mother, the higher the risk. That had begun the spring blizzard of worry. That's why he had decided to take the long way home. He couldn't bring the worry home to Ollie. So he was driving through the back roads of Eriksdale looking for early signs of spring. His car's tires crunched melting snow, dug up the slush, and showered it into the ditch. The melting snow, the slush cheered him, but the worry didn't release him. It countered with four kids on your salary. Four mouths to feed. Four bodies to dress.

We'll manage. Ollie's calm, clear voice. We'll manage. It was like she was in the car with him.

And he knew she was right. Together they could conquer the world. He pointed the nose of the car towards home. 

written on February 16, 2026

On this blog in May

Sunday, May 17

"Like Him" (memoir)

As a dyslexic student in the 1960s, school definitely had its challenges. Some were academic. Others were interpersonal.

Sunday, May 24

"CGIT"

Groups have shaped many aspects of my life. I had a fourteen-year career as an Early Childhood Educator caring for groups of children. In my twenties, I became a Katimavik participant and volunteered in three eastern Canadian provinces. And when I was twelve, I joined CGIT. What's CGIT? Well...

Sunday, May 24

"Don't Worry"

Written with much thanks to a friend who helped me believe in "happy ever after" endings.

Playmates (memoir) by Leanne Dyck

I was blessed to have fun male cousins to entertain me as I grew. 

This short memoir is a tribute to them. 

My photo of the street where I live

inspired me to share this link to one of my favourite songs.

The Street Where You Live sung by Dean Martin

Playmates

My playtime was enriched by three male cousins. One was a parkour enthusiast before parkour became a thing (in the 1990s). He would scale high heights and dangle precariously. Another, a sorcerer's apprentice, swallowed a piece of thread. He pulled one end of the thread out of his mouth and the other out of a nostril. As I watched, amazed, the thread see-sawed between mouth and nostril. The eldest of the three was the author of our playtime adventures. He instructed us to haul an old door to the slough. The door became a raft, and we sailed the seven seas.

On a different day, we were playing inside, and he told me, "We're cowboys, and we're going to ride off on our horses. But you stay here," he told me. "Scream when the bad guys come. We'll rescue you."

I waited, as directed. Judging it was time, I let loose a mighty scream.

My aunt raced in just before the boys did. "Are you okay, Leanne?" she asked.

"We're just playing," I assured her.

She frowned at me and my party of would-be rescuers. "Go play outside," and she added, "Play quieter."

So we ran outside to play superheroes. I was no longer a damsel in distress. Instead, I put my fists on my hips and shouted, "Wonder Woman!" Then I leapt into action—throwing my lasso of truth and deflecting bullets with my gold bracelets. Our invisible foes didn't stand a chance.

written in 2025

On this blog in May

Sunday, May 10

"Pregnant" (memoir)

Inspired by imagining how my dad reacted to my mom suspecting she may be pregnant with their fourth child—me.

Sunday, May 17

"Like Him" (memoir)

As a dyslexic student in the 1960s, school definitely had its challenges. Some were academic. Others were interpersonal.

Sunday, May 24

"CGIT"

Groups have shaped many aspects of my life. I had a fourteen-year career as an Early Childhood Educator caring for groups of children. In my twenties, I became a Katimavik participant and volunteered in three eastern Canadian provinces. And when I was twelve, I joined CGIT. What's CGIT? Well...

Sunday, May 24

"Don't Worry"

Written with much thanks to a friend who helped me believe in "happy ever after" endings.