As I said, Dexter and I were trying for our second child for 5 months. It happened so easily the first time that I was certain the week after we got off birth control I was pregnant. I was tired and had a headache. Oh no, I just had an iron deficiency, or so the nurse said after taking my blood. Crap! I already told a few people I thought I might be expecting. I hate looking like an idiot. During those months of trying, Dexter was certain there was something wrong with me—of course there is nothing wrong with his men, it must be my plumbing. So I visit the obgyn and she declares I’m fit as a fiddle and ready for another. I make sure to tell Dexter that he can visit his doctor next, for there will be no more investigating on my end. 5 months later Dexter and I go to his friends house and I’m just not feeling right. I actually have to leave early because of stomach problems.
As I drove home as quickly as I could to my toilet I started to count the days since my last period—OH! Dexter doesn’t want me to waste another test (I was using one every month since we started trying) and just wait a week. Yeah right, as soon as he left the next day I marched myself over to that toilet and got the stick out. It was there, the plus sign. I called Dexter and to tell him and I could hear the grin on his face as he was talking.
Dexter was a man! He did it! He impregnated his wife. Such a feat for the guys—you know that’s what they are all thinking--that they are true men because they aren’t shooting blanks. I was pretty excited too, but really because I had realized that I would have my next child in the middle of the summer, not the end of the summer. Now that’s something to smile about. Atlanta isn’t called Hotlanta for nothing. Who am I kidding; I’m comfortable walking around in a thin short sleeved shirt in February. I’m going to be miserable...ah, well whats new?
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