In 1965, at the age of twenty-nine, I had a perfect family—Kari (9,) Lori (7) and Chris (3). In two more years, Chris would be in school and I’d be able to join the workforce, at least on a part-time basis. I looked forward to being able to add to the family finances, especially because we were trying so hard to save enough money in order to buy or build our first home.
But then, I could hardly believe the fact I missed a period. I didn’t tell Paul. Maybe, I surmised, I simply “missed a period.” Then I missed another and I suddenly became nauseous. Through tears, my dreams for the near future crushed, I tearfully told Paul what I knew to be true.
I didn’t know what to expect. Would he be angry, disappointed, or what? So upset, I couldn’t think straight. His reaction? I remember his exact words.
“Did we ever say we’d only have three children?”
My mind spun in reverse… no, we hadn’t. My little fantasy had been crushed, not our dream. His words helped me to go forward and enjoy a wonderful pregnancy, resulting in a beautiful baby boy, and a wonderful son today – our Jon!
