Conception
Danny opens the card.
It says, “You’re going to be a daddy!”
Danny looks up at his wife, eyes wide. ”You didn’t.”
His wife smirks. “I did.”
A grin spreads across his face. He takes a step and picks her up, spinning and laughing and staring into her beautiful eyes as she laughs with him. He kisses her deeply, then sets her down, holding her close— holding them close. He closes his eyes, resting his forehead against hers, imagining the life blooming within her— the life he would get to hold and raise nine months from now. He imagines a life with his wife and this child— his child, even if they didn’t come from his sperm. They had talked about it— Danny’s sterility, and the ways they could get around that, settling on artificial insemination. They both knew they wanted a child, and they both knew they were financially stable enough to afford one. They hadn’t planned on a date— they didn’t need to. Like all things in their lives, the date had been a spontaneous decision, based on a strong foundation of understanding and communication and consent.
Danny kisses his wife’s forehead. “I am the luckiest man in the world.”
His wife looks up at him, smirking again, her eyes lit with joy. “We know.”