The Time I Got My Girlfriend Pregnant
My wife and I had our first date on July 4, 2006.
Our first son’s birthday is May 31, 2007.
Do the math and you’ll figure out he was conceived in early September, barely 2 months after we had met.
She told me about suspicions she was pregnant in early October. I immediately went to the drug store, and got a test. As I put my coat on I was reassuring her there was no way it was possible. “I’ll bet you my paycheque,” I remember bragging as I walked out the door.
When I came back a half hour later she opened the box and closed the bathroom door.
It didn’t take long for the result to be known. That extra line jumped off the stick in bold technicolor pink. She peeked from behind the door. It was positive, we were pregnant.
I immediately hugged her with a smile. “If it didn’t happen now, we would have been trying next summer,” I told her.
I only remember the story, because my wife has repeated it to me many, many times. To her, it’s the most important thing I’ve ever said, more important even than our wedding vows.
We told our parents a week later, each set jumping up at the good news to give us hugs, and handshakes. There was no judgment on our situation or the circumstance, just excitement at the prospect of little feet arriving in the spring.
We didn’t get married right away. We had just met, for crying out loud, and while our unborn son had chosen us to be his parents, we weren’t sure we wanted to choose each other. We bought a house, built our family, and got married on our 3rd anniversary of meeting, July 4, 2009. At the wedding we announced to our guests we were pregnant with our 2nd son.
But there’s still more to the story.
I was actually still married to another woman when I met Jennifer. My first wife had asked for a divorce (a request I was not objectionable to), and Jennifer was the first person I started seeing when I was back in the dating scene.
My first wife had an older daughter, and I had resigned myself to never having kids of my own. Then, when I met Jennifer, a different world of options opened for me; it was possible that I could have my own kids instead of being a second fiddle step-dad.
Every now and again, usually on my first wedding’s anniversary, I will stop and do some math to compare how my life could have been with how it is now. Sure, the house I had to give up to leave my first marriage is still my most favorite building I have ever lived in, but it was never really a home.
If I were to be absolutely honest, my older son is my favorite of the two. He and I are adventurous partners in crime, and I can’t imagine life without him. He was an accident waiting to happen, and I’m so glad it did.