Prologue - How I got pregnant

Prologue:

Mix Christmas Eve, success, a great party, and a fabulous liqueur, and what do you get??

Pregnant? No way!!!

It was Christmas Eve, 1998, and life was going well for myself and my husband of four years.  Tony was doing well at his job, and I was at last, at age 38, doing a dream job, working in the arts, both as an art gallery curator, and conducting writing seminars.  I had just published a book of poetry, another dream of mine.  My photography was also being reviewed, and published.  We are definitely on a roll.

My son from my previous marriage, Jared, who was 9, was also healthy and doing well.  His father and I had shared custody, and he split his time between our house and his dad's.  He was growing up to be smart, funny, and just an all around wonderful kid.

We had just purchased our first home the year before, and was busy renovating it.  Life was damn near perfect.



Tony and me, circa 1993



At a Christmas party, we were all laughing and eating and having a wonderful time.  Suddenly, I turned, and a friend was sitting behind me with this exotic looking bottle filled with an amber liquid.

"What's that?" I asked.

"This," he said, "is a liqueur I got in Europe two years ago.  Never opened the bottle. It's supposed to be the best. Shall we open it and see?"

Well, sure, why not, I thought.  It's Christmas after all.  Let's open it up and celebrate.

And fabulous it was.  Went down like water.  By the end of the evening, the bottle was gone.

By the time the party was over, I was feeling like I could do anything.  I could fly, I could stop nucleur wars, I could single-handedly bring about world peace.  And when I got home with my husband, I also thought I didn't need to use any birth control. 

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"Hell, yeah," I exposulated in my intoxicated stupor.  "I'm 38 years old.  How fertile can I be?

As it turned out, fertile enough.

I woke the next morning in a panic.  What have I done? Well, I'm sure I'm not pregnant from not using birth control one time.

I did what I always do when I'm in a crisis.  I called my mother.

"Do you think I'm pregnant?" I asked, like my mother was somehow clairvoyant.

"No," she said, " you're much too early in your cycle. I'm sure you're fine."

Well, what a relief that was.  If mom said it, it had to be true.  Didn't think much more about it, till my extremely regular period did not come.

I tried to ignore it.  Maybe if I didn't think about, it would go away.  I was just late.  That was all.  I also tried to sell this to Tony.

"You late? You're never late.  You're probably pregnant."

"I'm not." I insisted. "I'm just late."

Another week passed.  The queen of denial (that being me) continued to reign. 

Till her king, Tony that is, went to the market and got a pregnancy test. 

"Fine," I said.  "I'll take the damn thing if it will shut you up."

I went into the bathroom to take the test.  I took it, leaving it on the back of the toilet tank.  I wanted nothing to do with it. 

"I did it," I said.  "Go look in a few minutes if you feel like it.  I already know what it will say."

After a few minutes, he went to look.  "You're pregnant."  he yelled.

"Oh, bull, I said, "you're pulling my leg."

He took the test, and stuck it in my face. The little pink plus sign was staring me in the face. 

My world froze.  I screamed and cried.  I had ruined everything.  My life was finally where I wanted it, and I had gone and gotten myself pregnant. 

Tony tried his best to comfort me.  "It will be alright," he said, over and over.  To this day, I don't know whether he was trying to comfort me or himself. 

But luckily, for some reason, I woke the next morning realizing this wasn't the tragedy I thought it would be. We had actually been toying with the idea of having a child for the past year, but every time we got serious, somebody would get cold feet.  It was as if I was taken out of our hands, and decided for us.  I was going to have another chance to be a mother, along with all the other good things in my life right now.  What could be more perfect?


When we called our families, we got mixed reviews.  Tony's family, who all lived in Minnesota, were thrilled.  This was Tony's first child, and his parents and four sisters and brothers were all excited that we were at last going to get with the program and have a baby.  One of his brothers had three children, one sister had five. Having babies in the Moore family was nearly the family business.

My parents, who had been retired to northern Nevada for a few years by now, I think were a little less excited.  They knew how much I wanted my career to succeed, and the timing of this pregnancy was terrible in that regard. I was also at a high risk age for a pregnancy.  My father was concerned I was too old; that I would have complications.  I explained that while of course this was true, most pregnancies, over 90% of them, even with older mothers, turn out fine.  I wasn't terribly worried. I was just going to try and enjoy this, and put my fears aside.

My parent's fears were justified for another good reason.  I had a history of premature delivery.  I had contractions from about the 20th week when carrying Jared, and he was born at 35 weeks.  The birth had been potentially disastrous; I delivered him posterior breech, and the doctors were clueless he was in that position.  The only thing that probably saved him and me was the fact he was only five pounds.  Then he wasn't breathing, and had to be resuscitated.  He spent 12 days in the NICU because he could not eat normally.  It was a terrible experience, and one that I think kept me from getting pregnant again.  In the back of my mind, I just didn't want to watch another one of my children fighting for their life, and expose myself again to that unbearable agony.  It was, to that time, the worst thing I had experienced.

But I was already pregnant.  And the chances of going through something like that again were nil. I tried to reassure my father everything would be fine this time. 




Then there was the task of telling my son. 

You must understand, Jared was probably the most doted on child ever born.  He was the first child to his father and I, and the first grandchild to both sets of grandparents.  Jared's relationship with his paternal grandparents was particularly special; Scott was an only child, and not by choice.  His sister had passed away at 16 from Cystic Fibrosis, leaving Scott's parents broken and grief stricken.  Having a grandchild had been a dream come true for them, and they enjoyed it to the fullest.

I don't think Jared ever imagined he would have a sibling.  His father had not re-married after our divorce, and I had made it clear to the world that, for a variety of reasons, Tony and I did not plan on having a child.  When I look back in retrospect, maybe I should have somehow better prepared him for the news. 

So when I told him, he was silent.  He just sat there.....

Then he burst into tears.

I felt like a knife was being inserted in my guts.  I wanted to throw up.  What had I done?

"What about me?" he asked through his tears. 

What could I say but the truth; I loved him; that he was truly the love of my life.  I had waited till I was nearly 30 to have him, and I could not love another human being more.  But I could also love more than one person, and I had enough love for him, and for any other child I may have. 

My love for him was constant, eternal and would never change.  Nothing and no one could ever alter it. 

He seemed reassured, and thanks to his loving father and grandparents, he finally accepted the idea of a half-sibling, and even welcomed it.

It was a shock to us all, Lord knows.  Me most of all.  Just goes to show how, in one minute you have one life, and the next minute, another.

At this time, thankfully, I did not know, nor did those in my life know, how true that statement would become.