My much older fiancé, Keegan, and I decided to start working on our wedding plans. He had a list of 300 people, just on his side. He had it prepped and ready, which was completely shocking for him to be so prepared. Although, I guess he waited 40-some years to finally get married to the right girl, and it was finally happening. He still likes to joke about how he is the envy of all his college buddies, coworkers, and friends still to this day—after all, he’s the one who took longer, but then scored a hot younger woman.
Every time I sat down to write out my list of people to invite, it always boiled down to the same 20 or so. We decided on a fall wedding.
About a week later as I was window shopping for flowers, I started feeling queasy and faint. Keegan picked me up and we drove home together. I knew what was wrong, but I didn’t tell him anything. The minute I got home, I ran to the bathroom and took another pregnancy test. This time it was positive.
I just sat there staring at this positive pregnancy test in this awful bathroom with foam green plastic tiles on the walls and pink shag carpet from the previous owner who built the home in the 50s. All I could think about was how on earth we would get this remodeling done before the baby arrives.
An hour had passed and I was still sitting in the bathroom. “Knock, knock. Can I come in?” Keegan asked as he cracked the door open and peeked in with a worried look on his face.
“Yes, of course you can come in. I have to tell you something…” It was like he had broken me out of a “paralysis by analysis trance.”
He looked at me with this questioning look in his eyes. “Is it good news?” he asked, looking at the test in my hand.
I handed him the test without saying anything. He looked at it smiling, before looking up at me and hugging me. “You poor thing,” he said laughing. “Your belly is going to get all kinds of huge,” he said, laughing even harder.
“I refuse to walk down the aisle and get married while I’m pregnant, and there’s no way we’re getting married in court,” I said firmly.
“Why not? What, so you want to wait and get married after the baby is born?” asked Keegan.
“Well, at least your tits will be huge,” he chuckled—typical Keegan.
So, it was settled—our wedding was put on hold for an indeterminate amount of time. Even though it was my decision, I struggled with it regularly, not wanting to give birth to a child out of wedlock, having been born out of marriage myself. My mother chose to have four kids with a man who was 40 years her senior, but they weren’t married. Looking at pictures of them back then, my father did not look like he was in his 70s when I was born. This gave me a lot of hope, because he stuck around, and as much as I hate to admit it, the similarities between my father and my fiancé were uncanny.
Fast forward eight months to our beautiful baby being born with a head full of hair, but it wasn’t an easy pregnancy. I had massive complications and my poor fiancé was forced to go without sex for nearly six months. So, during this abstinent time, I offered to do something crazy, something that no other girlfriend, fiancée, or wife would ever agree to…