So this is how it happened.

I drove straight past the Chic-Fil-A and went to the IHOP and ordered the Never-ending Stack o' Pancakes.

I knew something was wrong immediately.

Two weeks later I am in the doctor's office with my husband who attends these strategy sessions with me.  As the Doctor is prescribing new scary meds to deal with my situation, I ask "Could any of these be bad if you were pregnant?"  And he says, "That's really not likely considering your circumstances.  But yes, some of them are contra-indicated for pregnancy."  And I said, "I think I'm pregnant."  And he said, "Ok, let's find out first.  We can at least rule it out."

The Husband follows us down the hall, a strange look on his face, as this is all news to him.  I wasn't about to bring it up considering the 15 years that it took us to completely let this go.  We had not cried and suffered like some people, and he knew the deal before he walked down the aisle with me.  But still.

So the Nurse takes my urine and we all stand around because it will only take a minute. Four adults standing around kind of making fun of the hoops you have to go through when you know the outcome already...and the Nurse, who has cared for me through ten years of this turns around with a complete shit-eating grin on her face and says nothing.

I look at her and say, "Well...this can't be good."

Hilarity ensues for the other three people in the room.  Blind panic for me.  I sit down.  I knew it was true, ever since those damn pancakes.  I don't like pancakes.

So we are talking back in the small exam room.  Ultrasounds, high-risk unit at ECU, don't know How Pregnant until tomorrow.  A blur.

Tomorrow at my Gynocologist, we are looking at a twelve week fetus/peanut on the monitor and she says everything looks good.  We're past the traditional danger stage and everything looks good.  But they can't treat me there because they have never seen a case like this and they will have to refer me out to the regional teaching hospital.  But it all looks good.

So we flash forward past a rather extreme ordeal to the Conversation.  Or the Negotiation, if you would prefer.  All that philosophy in college finally coming in handy to have the big discussion about what is going to happen to my life in about three months. 

The Husband and I discuss our situation, giddy and terrified.  We had given up on this plan.  We had started a travel fund.  I had thrown myself into my career with gusto, plans, and schemes.  I had been on freaking television on PBS as a master craftsman with my very own show.  I already had a plan.  Did I mention the plan I had?

But we had to get on board with the New Plan.  No nearby relatives, not enough consistent money for day-care or an aupair, and our health insurance attached to his very good job.  Also, an idea in my philosophy ridden mind that women should raise their own babies, not hand them over to others. 

How quaint.

So we come to the deal.  Like Persephone giving one half the year to the underworld in exchange for some time up top, I made an offer to the Husband.  I will give up ALL plans that I have for 5 years straight in the interest of caring for the baby until he is old enough for school.  Any ambition that I had towards furthering my just-taking-off career...on hold for the definite future.  And this is what I wanted in exchange:  Of the three hundred and sixty five days of the next five years of my life, I would get fifty two that were not to be about/for/including/centered-around/in the presence of the Child.  One day a week when he would not be with me all day every day with all of his needs dependent on me.  And the Husband said, "OK".

So on Saturdays, I get out of bed and act like a free grown woman with some cash in her pocket and no worries.  I don't think about or care about the care and feeding of the child.  I don't care if he is stimulated, fed, entertained, happy, or learning.  That is my job six days a week.  I have to trust the Husband for this to work.  And he has to hold up his end.  And he has.  And I do.

The Deal:  On Saturday, I am just a woman.

In 206 days, I designed and built a wood kiln and fired it 5 times, built a two-story pottery studio, organized and put on a successful on-site conference for 100 potters in the studio I built, and designed a line of work that will go into production in about 30 actual days.  And in the mean-time, raised a son.

What a deal.