muse | no muse

This remains a draft entry for the foreseeable time. That said, I'd like to capture some of what I'm thinking and feeling now, rather than recreate it later. Part of the magic behind the scenes here is that I can continue to make these private entries and not unleash them on the universe at large until we choose to air our little secret.

Sunday, December 14th, Number Six was up mid-morning rather than for dinner, as has become our habit. I was eating some lunch, and Justin and I were chatting. As he got ready to head back to his place, Nat disappeared upstairs. I did not think much about it at the time. Justin and I wrapped up our conversation and he headed out to do laundry. Nat reappeared with an object wrapped in a tissue. I was suddenly anxious, nervous, intrigued and repelled simultaneously. On one level, I was very aware of what she was presenting me as I ate my bowl of tomato soup, and I was quite excited that the news must bode well. In a darker place in my head, I was sure that I did not want to have anything to do with the item cloaked in front of me. Certainly not while I was eating.

I should, perhaps, step back for some history here. Nat and I got married in August of 1996. I've been a perennial student and she was still working on her bachelors degree and teaching certificate. I knew that children were part of being married, and we discussed the idea of reproducing on several occasions over the years. As an idea it seemed a fairly good one.

I was pretty sure of a couple of things. First, other people's children were really good -- mostly because they went home. Second, adopting was a great idea. Both of our gene pools leave much to be desired and adoption becomes a win situation all around. If you succeed at raising the adopted child into a productive member of society, it is kudos all around for your fantastic parenting skills. If, however, the child goes south in a hurry, the adoptive parents are left with the option of shrugging and saying, "Hmm. Not our genes." Nat was not keen on this train of thought.

Between our wedding and the present, we've tried our hands at keeping plants alive (marginal success), maintaining salt water aquariums (high success) and finally with raising puppies (sadly, two for three). In my head, we were preparing well for our own 2005 or 2006 model year mini-Nat (or Jack). 2005/6 seemed perfect as Nat finishes her Masters in teaching and I finish my ultra valuable Bachelors of Fine Arts this coming spring, 2004. We would both get done with our final year of currently scheduled education, calculate the optimized time to conceive, get Nat into a "motherly way" and baby would make three about the time Nat got done with school for the summer of 2005. Did I mention this was the plan in my head?

Early this year (2003), Nat strongly indicated that it was time. I disagreed. She decided to nurture a side career as a Corkie Lee sales person. It was a glorious five or ten minutes of distraction for her. Then, the full court press was on me. The recurring dribble was "baby now." Though I openly confess to being slow, I do eventually understand which way the wind blows. To my way of thinking, I was left with two options:

1) Continue to disagree about the timing for the child and be miserable until I broke; or,
2) Hop on board the crazy train, be happy and get busy reproducing, or trying, or... you get the idea.

I went with the crazy train. There was a bit of trying. There was a bit of adjusting. There were a considerable number of questions from me that went, "Are you knocked up?" There was a bit more trying.

Which brings us back to the pregnancy test wrapped up in front of me. I still could not quite bring myself to open it, so I made Nat open it. I'm aware of what it means when a woman (and by "a woman" I certainly mean Nat) with whom I've been sleeping regularly is off her schedule by five or six weeks. And, I was right. Nat went in for blood work to confirm her motherly state. It was confirmed. Surprise! I'm an adult.