Incubation

The Rev. and I have been married for eight years. Many of those years were spent trying to start a family. Given that all of my friends my age are working on their 2nd or 3rd kid, and The Rev. has friends who have children working on driver's licenses, we know we are behind the ball in starting a family. After many long, heartfelt talks, we decided to start the process of adoption. We had adoption agency paperwork on our kitchen table, and most of the discussions surrounded "How much is this going to cost us?" International adoptions are expensive, local adoptions are much less so. Part of me felt that we were putting a price tag on the price of a child, and ultimately, a price on how much we were willing to pay to start a family.


After being married for eight years and with both of us seemingly the picture of health, people who don't know us have asked, "Do you have children?" "Do you plan on having children?" Both innocent questions, but they stabbed me in the heart everytime it came out of someone's mouth. I did not want to become an overly sensitive, bitter, infertile harpy, so I would jokingly respond, "Yes, of the four-legged variety. I find they do the same things children do." It would shut them up for a little while, unless they were really nosy and then the more outrageous questions, theories, and bits of advice would come out of their mouths. I always responded, "It's not for a lack of trying." That would usually shut them up.


The Rev.'s barber, who is from Tijuana, suggested that he get me drunk on tequila. "It makes them reelaaaxxxx," he said. Another acquaintance, also from Tijuana, suggested the same thing, "Get 'er drunk." I like tequila, in margaritas, but I don't like it enough to get drunk on it. We just kept on talking about adoption and saving money for it when he returned from his 3 month stay in Mexico.


In February, we decided that we needed to set aside one day or evening of the week for a date night. Friday evenings turned out to be the best, and we usually celebrated the end of the week and the start of the weekend with a bottle of champagne. The Rev. and I looked forward to "Champagne Fridays" and we usually drank Mumm Cuvee, Schramsberg Cremant, or Domaine Chandon Riche. Sometimes we had friends over to share, and sometimes we just ate strawberries, drank the wine, and watched the latest movie from Netflix.

The day after Mother's Day we learned I was pregnant...



"Oh, Lord have mercy, I don't believe this..."


"Are you okay in there? What's wrong?"



"Nothing is wrong. Aaron, I'm pregnant."


"Are you sure? Did you take the test right?"



"How hard is it to pee on a stick?"



"Let me see that thing."




What followed was tears and much hugging. We have wanted a baby for so long, and now all of the prayers that have been prayed by so many people have finally been answered. The Rev. was pleased to tell his barber that his advice worked, but that it was from champagne, and not tequila. So, here a few name suggestions, given that the incubatee was conceived on a Champagne Friday:



Domaine Chandon Riche

Champagne Bubbles

Sparkles Moet Chandon




I think that it is most appropriate to name our child after a wine, given that we do live in Calilfornia. If we stilled lived in Nashville the name choices would not be as playful, but they would do:



Miller

Bud

Coors

PBR (pronounced Peber)



I had my first doctor's appointment yesterday and I am currently carrying a lima bean. I saw the heart flutter and a tiny arm waved as if to say hello. I am nine weeks along and due on January 14th, although my doctor said I would be full term on Christmas Eve. Yes, The Rev. is totally bummed that he missed it, although in keeping with his sense of perfect timing, he will arrive home in time to learn if we are having a boy or a girl.

This is the answer to many prayers.