I gave myself one week from the BFP (Big Fat Positive) to find a doctor. I did some internet researching, some checking up on the Wives Website*, and finally came to the conclusion that I needed to make a call. So I called a girl we met here that I honestly barely know, to get the name of her OBGYN.
A week later I was in the office with M, nervous, nauseous, and venturing into the unknown. But it was the nicest doctor's office I had ever been to. The doctor was about the nicest I have ever met. And he loved that M is a med-student. So we got on with it, and before I knew it I was having a vaginal ultrasound. And exiting with my very own picture of a yolk sack.
So we celebrated, again. Kind of. We went out to eat at a nice place and discussed for realz this time. And I confided my hesitation to share the news. They're going to say we're irresponsible; we're still in school, we have no house of our own, we have no jobs, we're living off of loans. But that, apparently, was totally unfounded. Because when you tell your parents they're going to be grand-parents they get excited, and happy, and a little shocked. But they're happy for you (and them).
Two weeks later, we re-visited the very nice doctor, and heard a very nice heartbeat, and as we were preparing to go on a very nice trip, we told the parents and the siblings, and everyone was very nice. And my nausea was petering off and that was very nice too.