This past fall, my period was late. I didn't think much of it. It is no secret that J is sterile. On top of that, we didn't want God to suddenly 'bless' us with a child when I was in my 40's so J got fixed about 4 years ago.
We knew we only wanted 2 children. We knew we could be good parents to 2 children and comfortably support 2 children. We did not want 3 children.
We did not want God to get all wrapped up in the latest war raging in the Middle East and forget we don't want more kids then suddenly look at us and go "Oh, let me bless Widney Woman and J with a baby." Thus the extreme measure in J getting a vasectomy.
One morning, without knowing I was late, J said: "I had a dream you were pregnant and that it was MY baby!" For the record, I've chosen not to be offended by his shock that it was 'HIS' baby - like there could be a different father.
Couple years ago, a friend asked what I would do if I were pregnant.
"Get a divorce. It wouldn't be my husband's child."
And so the seed (no pun intended) of pregnancy was planted in my mind. I waited yet another week. At this time, my period was 3 weeks late. I'm like clockwork.
Finally, I went and bought a test. Actually, I could get a 3-pack for the price of 1 test, so I did.
Do you hear the drum roll?
I KNEW J was sterile.
I KNEW J had been fixed.
I KNEW we didn't want another child.
I KNEW this would screw up our lives.
I KNEW I would be 41 when this baby was born.
I KNEW that babies in dreams are not literal babies.
I KNEW IT ALL.
Yet still, I was devastated.
I took to my bed for the rest of the day.
Somewhere in my heart, the dream of creating a whole new little person out of love was still there. That dream, as crazy and messed up as it was, was still very alive.
When no one came a-visiting, I took a 2nd test the following week.
And this time........
Wait for it...
Wait for it...