The Morning After
The other morning Cori and I woke up to our usual routine. We scooped up Jonesy cat, lying on top of us, and gave him some morning love. I fed him breakfast while Cori brushed her teeth. I snuck a peek at her in the shower – because I still get excited when I look at her. She got dressed to my despair, we kissed, held each other, and we drove to work.
The day was very typical – we were waiting for 2 weeks to be up. We were marking time on the walls of our minds, wondering what it would feel like to see that test result, looking longingly upon the faces of other people’s children – yearning to see Cori’s eyes, a gesture, a familiarity. When would it be our turn? What would it feel like?
Cori and I went to sleep that night, like any other night. We kissed, spooned and closed our eyes. What I didn’t know was that that night, that last lingering look upon my world, would be the last night of that life.
“Baby, wake up!” Cori jumped onto the bed, half on top of me, and rolled me over. Her Hazel eyes were shinning, bright and open. “Baby – look.” She handed me a long white stick, and as my tired eyes focused, I saw not one, but two distinct lines forming on the test. Cori turned her head, looking at me half-telling me, half searching for reassurance: “We’re pregnant.”
I have only ever been conscious of my heart beating one other time in my life – it was the first time Cori kissed me. I held that test in my hand, glancing back and forth between that test and my wife’s eyes… and we both began to cry. I took her in my arms and we embraced this new day. “You did it,” I said to her quietly. She pulled back from the hug, held my face in her hands, and touched her forehead to mine. “No baby, we did it”.
One year from today, I will have a 3-month-old baby. Two weeks from today, I will see a heartbeat on a sonogram – I will see my kid’s heart beating. And for the rest of my life, I will feel this immense amount of love for my family: my incredible wife Cori, who I will love until the day my own heart stops beating, and even after that. And my baby, who is already adored, prayed for, loved, loved, loved, as he or she or they grow inside my wife’s womb.
I am so happy to share this moment with you all. I am so happy to confirm that all of our shared wishes, hopes, and dreams have come true. In most films, gays and lesbians meet terrible ends. We die; we are lost, left, or forgotten. Not in this story. We have a happy ending, or rather; we have a happy beginning of a new chapter. Our love is real love – we are stories of our own – and we are all listening.
Thank you for all of your love and support – it has cushioned the fall of our angel from heaven and into our arms.
And keep sharing your stories with us, and we will keep praying and sending love in hopes that it will be the light that guides your angel down to you.
Kacy, Cori, Jonesy, and our future Bambino
Nikki & Jill:
Mazel Tov to everyone!