The Between Years

I don't think so. I have news to give you, but I'm not sure how you're going to take it.”

    Randy's lips tightened into a thin line.

    “ I've been having morning sickness and I've been try to hide it from you. Sometimes I'd run the taps muffle the sound, other times I'd try and hang in there until you'd gone to work. But I couldn't do that forever, so I broke down and made the appointment. So there it is, Randy. You're going to be a Daddy.”

    His lungs and cheeks deflated and he stared down at his lap. I wish I could say that he leapt off the couch, shouted for joy, kissed me, then gathered his buddies on the back porch so he could pass cigars all around, but I can't. I don't want to say he looked angry or even disappointed. That wouldn't be fair. He just rested face in his hands like someone had just burst his bubble.

    “ We didn't plan this. It wasn't supposed to happen.” He combed his fingers through his hair. “Not yet anyway.”

    “ I know, but we don't have to act like it's a bad thing. It'll be a blessing once it happens, and hopefully before. You know how many kids are unplanned? That doesn't mean they don't turn out great of their parents love them any less. They're still a huge joy.”

    “ That pill isn't supposed to fail.”

    And he said nothing more. I hadn't expected an angry reaction, and he had delivered in terms of calmness and sobriety, but I wish he would have worked with me more. It was wrong of me not to have stepped forward and admitted I'd stopped taking my birth control pill, but part of me felt like that was irrelevant. Randy and I were going to be parents and I could do nothing to change that.

    I turned away from him, unsure how to respond.

    “ Carol.” He cleared his throat. “You know what this is going to mean for us, right?”

    “ It'll change our lives.”

    And of course I knew that, which is why I wasn't as disappointed in Randy's lack of enthusiasm as I should have been. But in fairness, the news was a shock to a man who needed to plan out even the smallest things, and to have a complete handle on everything.

    Eventually, I learned what Randy was experiencing: Fear. And everyone deals with fear differently. I knew Randy well enough to know that he was dealing with his fear of parental responsibility and expectations in his own way. He spent nearly ten minutes after my announcement silent and farting around with his thumbs. No doubt he was calculating and strategizing every move he should make to parent our child successfully.

    I think the fact that something so monumental had been the product of something he had no control over caused this fear. He couldn't change it, couldn't figure it out. He would never have pushed for an abortion-never would have considered it-and he was man enough to accept his responsibilities, except he seemed genuinely disinterested. I still wish he could have shared the joy I felt that day.

    To his credit, Randy set his own feelings aside, sucked it up, and focused all his energy on the baby. We gave up our weekly dinner out to save for a dresser, crib and bassinet. He picked out most of the baby clothes. As I grew larger with child, he took on all the household responsibilities like cooking, cleaning and laundry so I wouldn't have to worry about a thing.

    I remember when Randy painted Kenny's nursery. For a guy who rarely used his hands, the job he did on the room was breathtaking. The room itself was painted sky blue and he bought racecar decals to affix when the paint dried. While he rolled on the layers of paint, he wore jean overalls and a baseball cap turned backwards while the radio blared. I thought it was the cutest thing I'd ever seen.

    I inched up behind him “Going for the traditional color, I see?”

    “ Looks nice is all, but we could paint it green for all I care. No need to imprison our child with gender roles.”

    “ Do what you think is right.” I pecked him on the cheek. “It'll be brilliant.”

    Randy cracked a smile and continued about his work.

    In the end, the nursery was beautiful, ready with a crib, a mobile, and stuffed animals lined along the walls. Some were new and others were hand-me-downs from Randy's childhood and mine. Randy had already bought books to read to Kenny and a bookcase from Wal-Mart that was still in the box. He still seemed tentative in his joy for our child, and preferred to express his actions as a matter of responsibility.

    Randy's mother and mine threw a baby shower for