Preggo My Eggo – Part 1 – Origins

In celebration of Mrs. Donk’s knocked-uppedness, I am going to do a series of blogs talking about all of the fun the two of us have had (well, mostly me) as Mrs. Donk has expanded to epic proportions.  I present you with Part 1 – Origins.

Mrs. Donk has always been ambivalent about the whole “having kids” thing.  She was an only child growing up, with no younger cousins, nephews, nada.  I mean shit, she never even had a little kitten or anything.  She spent most of her childhood, as far as I’ve been able to decipher, surrounded by adults that mostly shooed her away, keeping her in a small tiger cage submerged in tepid water.  As a result, she was never exposed to the world of pregnancy and babies.

It’s no surprise then that the thought of carrying something in her innards for nine months, pushing it out of her tight little love canal, and then proceeding to raise it for 18 years, scared the piss out of her.  I mean more so than it scares any rational human being that is.  It scared her so much in fact that early on in our relationship she swore up and down that she would never have children.  As time wore on, however, and the two of us headed towards our thirties, the pressure started to build.  Friends were starting to have children, family members were anxious for an addition, and the two of us weren’t getting any younger.

So gradually Mrs. Donk began to relent.  She would have a baby, but not until next year.  When next year came, it was “well, such and such is interfering.  We’ll do it next year.” And so on and so forth ad nauseum.  It became a family joke: the pregnancy-carrot dangling over our heads.  Finally, earlier this year, the planets somehow aligned and it seemed that she was finally ready to do the deed.  Donk was ecstatic, not so much at the thought of having a baby, but at the promise of all of that wild, untamed sex that lay ahead of me as my boys attempted to pry their way into her shy little egg.  All birth control was stopped, but because she wasn’t 100% sure about the whole thing yet she had me, um, release my DNA somewhere other than her baby-cooker.

Suddenly, after just two such sessions, Mrs. Donk had a change of heart.  It wasn’t time yet.  Yes, we would wait six more months, and then we would try for SURE.  I was actually pretty bummed about it, and began to prepare for the very real possibility that I was never going to be a father.  It was a rough blow, and left me wondering just how I was going to fill my life for the next 50 years.  No reading stories, no bouncing my baby on my knee, no baseball practices, no graduations?  Nada?  It made me feel a little empty.

Flash forward about 3 weeks later, and Mrs. Donk and I are getting ready to go to Cancun.  She’s feeling really bummed because her period is late, and the last thing she wants is a visit from Aunt B when she’s laying down by the pool at a resort.  As the week before the trip trickled by, it became odder and odder that her period hadn’t started, because like everything about Mrs. Donk, her uterus is very orderly and punctual; if it was able to write, I am convinced it would compose tidy “to-do” lists.  Almost as a joke, I suggested one night that I run out and buy a pregnancy test.  To my surprise, Mrs. Donk conceded, even though she swore up and down that “there’s no way I’m pregnant.”

Fifteen minutes later I was watching as she took a leak all over the thing.  Looking at it, she said “See, I told you I wasn’t.”  After she threw the thing in the trash, I picked it out and noticed just the FAINTEST of plus signs.  Reading the instructions carefully, I told her excitedly: “My dear, you are indeed pregnant.”  She didn’t believe the results at all, saying that I was reading the directions wrong.  Smiling, I told her I’d be back and went to the store, where I bought one of those tests whose screen tells you very plainly that you’re either “PREGNANT,” or “NOT PREGNANT.”

As I watched my wife of 7 years pee on the second test, both fear and anticipation swelled up inside of me.  I had had no idea until this very moment how much I really wanted to have a child.  To have those hopes dashed now seemed suddenly like it would be the end of the world.  Within seconds, Mrs. Donk held the test up to my face, where the screen seemed to be flashing in neon the word “PREGNANT.”  My wife, still sitting on the toilet, stared into my eyes.  A silent moment passed, and a mixture of anxiety, fear, and a touch of humor played over her face as she said to me solemnly:

“I can’t believe you did this to me.”