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July 1, 2011 / Mettā Reiki Center

The Phone Call.

Tuesday, June 7, 2011.  11:00 AM.

Finally outside of the 58-or-so-degree exam room, I was sitting in a scorching hot car, randomly wondering why the hell I had been inwardly bitching about the cold exam room when it was so freaking hot outside.

It was a random thought that didn’t last very long when it had to compete with the rush of everything else flying through my mind.

After the fluids finished in the doctor’s office, the friendly nurse came back in to tell me I needed to go to the lab.  I had been spotting, so they wanted to make sure the HCG levels were going up and that nothing was wrong with our baby.  Great.  Not only was I knocked up, but the kid was already misbehaving.

I had done a fine job of holding back tears for the first, oh, five seconds in the lab, until the cute phlebotomist tied the tourniquet and patted my other hand saying, “Let’s see how this little baby is doing, eh?”

After a half-box of snotty tissues, I finally made it out of the clinic to the scorching hot car where I sat, forehead on the steering wheel, watching tears hit my lap in sad little splats.  That was when the “coulda woulda shouldas” started.

I should have been a tad more clear with Lion King about how clear that “plus” was on the pregnancy test.  But I had been so absolutely convinced that there was no possible way I could be pregnant.  He had a vasectomy, after all.

I should have asked him specifics about the vasectomy and taken more precautions.  Done more research.  Something.  Anything.

I finally concluded that I shouldn’t have gotten out of bed that morning.

Along with the “coulda woulda shouldas”, the fears came in.  I remembered Lion King joking in one of our first conversations that he didn’t want to put another kid through diapers.

I remembered quite vividly how scared I felt every time I held my godson or goddaughter, fearing they would break.  Or cry.  Or puke.  Or something that would obviously be because I was such an inept godmommy.

The paralyzing fear that Lion King would immediately think, because he had a vasectomy, that I had cheated on him, and I would lose him.  I never cheated on anyone in my entire life, and had not spent a night away from him in months, until that past weekend.  (Ironic, huh?)

I had to give him what I felt, deep inside, was beautiful news, and I had no clue how that news would be received.

It is safe to say that I had never been as scared, before or since, in my entire life.

I stared at the phone.  I had been sitting in my hotter-than-hell car for over 20 minutes.  It took a few tries, but I finally dialed.

Now, looking back, there is still so much about this day that boggles my mind beyond belief.  I never imagined that I would be so lucky to have someone in my life that could be handed something like this and embrace it the way Lion King did.  I never imagined that there would be someone who understood who I was and how I ticked enough not to question the news I had given him, despite the circumstances.  He had to have been reeling, and scared out of his mind, just like I was – but you would never have known that from my end.  Lion King’s first priority was making sure that his cougar – and our kitten-to-be – was okay.

All snark and satire aside, I happen to know that Lion King reads this blog – because he cares, and because this experience means as much to him as it does to me.

And for that, my Lion King, I thank you.  You will never know how much I love you.


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