The first week of January 2023 possessed the same manic, goal-oriented energy of every other year. Except this year the resolution was to revive my marriage, a truly noble goal when compared to my usual read this and exercise this much. I was flirty and fun. I made an extra effort to not pull my phone out around Jon and the kids. I took the time to check in with Jon, to really know what was happening in his life. He'd tell me about classmate drama and about his new best friends. And I listened fervently to the tales about these people he was enchanted with and saw more than me and the kids. Heck, I could have even drawn out a flow chart explaining the complexities regarding the crazy girl Rachel in his nursing program and all the bridges she had burned and who was still trying to be friends with her. Besides a few intermittent migraines, I was working my tail off and things really did seem to be looking up.
Because the "state of the union" truly did seem to be better, I approached Jon one night like a humble child asking for a treat after eating all their supper: "Do you think things are okay enough that we could have more kids?" Bless my pure and innocent heart. Jon was quick to inform me that NO, things were not better. He was still miserable. He felt like I loved the kids more than him. And so I mourned and grieved the end of a chapter that I was not ready to have close. For more than one night that week I cried as I prayed to my Father in Heaven, begging that I could fix my marriage enough that I could have another baby. I don't think I've ever wanted something as ardently, as selflessly, as I wanted to bear another child. Fortunately, I was always going to bed by myself at this time, so Jon didn't have to endure my prayers whispered through sniffles and the tears that fell from my eyes until sleep dried them up.
On a Wednesday I turned 34. I had been encouraged by a friend to plan a night of laser tag to celebrate my birthday that year, so for fun I committed to the stress of finding people to leave their families on a Friday night to celebrate something I don't even celebrate for myself. Since the festivities were planned for Friday, I wasn't expecting anything on the actual day. But Jon surprised me with a late afternoon text saying my parents would watch the kids and we could go out to eat. An hour or so later, I found myself sitting across from Jon at the Firestone. This meal felt the same as that time back in grade one when I saved up all my reward dollars or whatever to buy the coveted "Lunch with Teacher." I felt proud as punch and was on my best behavior, oozing gratitude and delight, while the teacher across from me grinned and bore the extra effort required from them as they fulfilled an obligation. And why yes, he was on his phone an awful lot that night at the restaurant too, but by now I was used to it. His relationships with his classmates were important and he had told me about the plans they were making for that upcoming weekend. One classmate had a show with his band on Friday and there was a drag Burlesque show to attend on Saturday.
(Ironically, while composing this I had a flashback to a forgotten memory of that night. Foreshadowing? While sitting at that table and passing the time when Jon would check out on his phone, I kept glancing at a table to my right. There sat a girl I recognized from my days in the Young Single Adult scene in Lethbridge, except now she bore the title "Young Single Mother.")
That night again I cried myself to sleep. The next day I awoke to the tell-tale signs of an oncoming migraine. I took some medicine, drank as much water as I could and prayed I could just make it through work. And prayers were answered! But after work I realized something... how many migraines had that been in the past week? One pregnancy test later and my suspicions were confirmed: I was pregnant. I was overjoyed. Prayers really were answered!!!!
But how was I going to tell Jon?
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