By 2010, my pregphobia receded to a distant memory, something to laugh at. By that point, my sister had two young sons, and I had several friends who had adorable children. They all survived their alien invasion and turned out to be mostly normal again.
I also met and fell in love with wonderful, caring, and generous man in Chicago, IL. He proposed on Valentine's Day.
Despite my fear of pregnancy, I loved children. I always smiled at infants and kids whenever I passed them in stores or on the street. Being an auntie was a favorite activity of mine. So I knew I wanted children, and I knew my fiance would be a wonderful father. Shortly after he proposed, we discussed babies.
I was worried that my age and my family's history of fertility issues may create some issues for us in starting our family. We decided to start trying and leave the creation of life up to fate.
That was February.
By March, my fiance realized I was pregnant. I thought my excessive sleepiness was cancer. (I have a touch of hypochondria, too.)
He was right.
My reaction? Great! And uh oh. I was facing my own John Hurt Moment!