This world we live in, the way things happen, it's strange, right? Things like birth and death seem so mysterious...and yet, they just happen. Every day.
Yesterday, I saw something for the very first time. A small stick with two identical pink lines. Not a pregnancy test, of course. Things aren't that easy around here. But a positive ovulation predictor. The lines came up instantly. Within 30 seconds of being dipped in pee. The test line was maybe even a little darker than the control. I couldn't believe it. I was sure my eyes were making it all up--but no, there it was.
Yesterday was Cycle Day 24. Maybe that's why we've been so unsuccessful. We were guessing at a fertile window of days 14-19. Since I hadn't gotten a positive OPK yet, I just kept up with it. And there it was.
When Bobby came home from work, I showed him, and told him that meant we needed to have sex. He agreed, but not right then. That was fine. We had plenty of time. Plus, I sort of like the idea of our baby being conceived through passionate lovemaking, you know, instead of a quick, obligatory bang while we're both playing on our phones.
We made an early supper and watched a bit of tv. We had a double header softball game that night, and Bobby doesn't like to have sex before games.
"It messes with my swing. My legs always fatigue faster and there's something off with my throws." I think he's making it all up, but I'll concede that I prefer not to be leaking jizz while running the bases. It made me nervous to wait, however. This was our first confirmed ovulation in two years. I didn't want anything to jeopardize it.
Whenever Bobby's horny on Saturday mornings, he insists on morning sex. Of course, morning sex is sort of special anyway, since it's reserved for Saturdays. But he also has other reasons.
"If we wait, I might do something stupid and you'll get mad at me. We need to do it before I can say anything wrong."
He has a point.
So waiting until after softball felt similar. We both might be tired, or if we lost we'd be crabby. One of us could get hurt and be unable to perform, or any number of other things that could go wrong in the next two and a half hours.
After the games, we were feeling good. We'd won, we weren't mad at each other, no injuries. We gathered our gear, ready to go home and get it on. I sat on the tailgate of the truck, clapping my cleats together while Bobby packed away the bat bags.
"Yeah," I said, jumping down and and gathering my glove and shoes. Bobby was holding his phone, obviously just checking his messages.
It wasn't a shock really. A year and a half ago, Bobby's stepmom's mother--Grandma Susie--was diagnosed with pulmonary vascular disease and given six months to live. But in that moment, it was still a shock.
"What...? When...?" I stuttered all the wrong things.
Bobby called over to his younger brother Steve who was parked a few cars away and plays on our softball team.
"Did you see?....Grandma Susie..."
Steve was checking his phone too and just nodded. We made plans to go together to the memorial service this Saturday, and then drove away.
Bobby called his dad when we got home and seemed to sort some things out.
At 9:30 p.m., Bobby said, "Let's make a baby."
I would be lying if I said it hadn't crossed my mind that we might miss the ovulation window. I know, it's completely and utterly selfish to think about myself and how Grandma Susie's death was putting a damper on my babymaking plans. Believe me, I hate myself for even thinking it. I didn't want to be the girl that makes someone else's death about herself.
I ran through a lot of "do you really want to do this?" before Bobby finally stopped me and said: "Lilee, I want a baby."
Is this the story of how our child was conceived? I don't know yet. Probably not. This is just the story about how quickly life and priorities change. How people are born, live, and die. It's still a mystery and it's still strange. And yet it just happens. Every day.