10.

Jan 12, 1995

I walked into the apartment tonight, and she was sitting there with the lights out, and she was crying. The office was a wreck today and that was my first thought, because I know she went at it with McKee and was close to leaving without having a job today, but no. She had a calendar on her lap and could barely get the words “I'm late” out. Funny, she thought I would be mad. We've talked about kids and she knows how much I want them, but she thought I would be mad.

I didn't think I could love this woman more, but fuck, I do.

She wants this baby. As much as I do. I'M GOING TO BE A FATHER. I don't know what this will do to our wedding plans. I'd like to move them up and get married as soon as we can, but I don't want to ruin anything for her. But goddamn, I'm going to be a father, and the mother of my kid is so fucking amazing I can't even explain it to myself.

You know, he'd said more than once that he wanted kids, and in a sleepy talk about family the morning of January 1st he said he really didn't want to wait more than a year before we started to try to get pregnant, but that was with a June wedding in mind, and I was assuming that he really did mean he didn't want a baby for at least two years. But then I had a horrible day at work, one that ended with me telling my boss to pull his head out of his ass and then shove it back in and inhale deeply, and with me storming out thinking I had probably just managed to get myself fired. The outburst was out of character for me, and as I got into my car I had a transient thought that I must have the worst case of PMS in history. And then it hit me. That case of PMS was a little on the late side.

I went from being mad as hell at my boss to terrified at what Ian would think and what he would say. I sat in the apartment and let myself wind up, and had just about convinced myself that he would be so upset that he would leave and not come back. I'd seen him incredibly angry a few times over the years and it wasn't something I wanted directed at me and I knew I wouldn't be able to handle it; and make no mistake, I thought that if he walked out it would be all my fault. I'd spent months wanting to be with him, but I was too stupid to consider the potential consequences.

There was no question about whether or not I would tell him, or even when, but I was bracing myself for a side of him I didn't like. I just sat there in the living room with the lights off and tried to calm down, and I did this mental rundown of how I would tell him and what I would say, but as soon as I heard his key in the door I started crying all over again, and the only thing I could do was wave the calendar at him and choke out that I was late.

I couldn't even look at him. I didn't want him to turn the light on, but he did and sat on the couch next to me, pulling the calendar out of my hands so that he could get his arms around me. I waited for him to ask me if I was sure, for him to get angry, or even just annoyed, but I felt his breath on my cheek before he pulled me closer, and he whispered “God, I love you,” before he buried his face against my neck.

I was apologizing, but he was overjoyed. I stumbled around the point that it only would have taken me an hour at my doctor's office and we could have avoided this; he countered back that I'd never seen him reaching for a condom, had I? I was naïve and he was Catholic, but somehow I thought that this was my fault.

There was never a moment that I thought we had the option to not have the baby. From the moment I realized that I was very likely pregnant, I wanted him desperately. I chalk my fear up to a very bad day capped with a wash of hormones I couldn't have controlled if I wanted to. Ian's joy was palpable, and when I was finally able to stop crying and look at him, he was grinning.

It took an hour before he asked if I was sure and if I had taken a test; I felt like a complete moron, getting worked up over something I might be very wrong about, especially after seeing how excited he was. And then I felt terrible. No matter which way it was going to go, I realized that I should have gotten the truth before dumping it on him.

He jumped up and said he would be back in half an hour with dinner and a pregnancy test, and I went back to being completely afraid.

I can't even begin to describe his disappointment when he got home, ripped the box open, and discovered that I would have to wait until morning to use it. I think he was awake all night, and by 5:30 couldn't stand it anymore. He woke me up (gently) and was almost upset that I wouldn't let him into the bathroom with me, and I thought he was going to start pinging off the walls while we waited for the result.

Before then, I'd seen him wrestle with emotion, doing the typical guy thing of choking it back and acting like everything rolled right off of him, but when I checked the test and told him it was positive, his eyes filled and he didn't even try to hold it back. It was the first time I saw him cry, and though it wasn't the last, even then I thought it was very telling that he was so overwhelmed with love for a child we hadn't even known about 24 hours earlier that he couldn't hold it back.