“And you’ve been feeling sluggish for about a month.”
“That’s true. Damn, sis. I haven’t had a pregnancy scare in over eighteen years. I’m too old for this kind of nonsense.”
We were on FaceTime while moving around our respective kitchens. I had a taste for Alfredo chicken lasagna, so I was in the process of preparing it. She was also making dinner for her and Stokely since he was home for a few weeks.
“You may be too old for nonsense, but you’re not too old to get pregnant. Have you thought about what you’ll do if you are?”
“I’ve been thinking about it since he told me, which is why I didn’t tell you right away. Am I crazy for not being too concerned if I am?”
“Umm, he’s fine as fuck, he has a stable career, and he doesn’t give off psycho vibes. If you consider your options in this trash ass world of dating, your baby daddy could be much worse.”
I laughed at my friend’s perspective. She might tell jokes, but lying was something she rarely did.
“Ugh! Baby daddy. I definitely didn’t anticipate having another one of those, not that the one I have has ever been a factor. As much as I would love to get married and have at least one more child, this might be my last chance.”
“Girl, stop.”
“No, seriously, Skye. I’m not interested in being over forty and pregnant. There’s nothing wrong with it, and I think it’s beautiful that women who want to have babies in their forties are doing so, especially when they’ve been intentional about waiting or have had difficulty conceiving.”
“I think it’s wonderful, too, but I know what you mean. As you know, I’ve been saying one and done since Stokley was born.”
“That you have. I guess this conversation is premature, since I have no idea if I’m pregnant.”
“When is your next period due?”
“Any time between tomorrow and Sunday.”
“And you haven’t had any symptoms?” she questioned.
“Besides feeling sluggish, a slightly lighter and shorter period, nothing else. You know period symptoms and pregnancy symptoms are damn near the same.”
“Damn, women sure do get the short end of the stick when it comes to what we have to deal with.”
“Tell me about it. When my mother started menopause, she thought she was pregnant. The shit is never-ending.”
“Seriously. Well, I guess you’ll know soon enough, and it sounds like you’re okay with the idea.”
“I chose to have Nyeem as a nineteen-year-old who didn’t know the first thing about being a mother, and we survived and thrived. I suppose I should be making better decisions at thirty-six, but fuck it. I’ll survive and thrive again.”
“I heard that! And you know I take pride in being the best Titi and Godmother on earth. I always got you, sis.”
“And I love you for that and many more reasons. In the meantime, I’m about to do some research on my possible baby daddy. I already scrolled through his Flikstagram page, but it’s not very telling. It’s mostly pics of football-related stuff, his parents, him, and Knox. There’s nothing there that gives me any insight into him.”
“Let me know what you find.”
“Okay. I’ll talk to you later, and tell my nephew I expect to see him before he goes back to school.”
“He already knows, sis, but I’ll tell him again.”
Our call ended just as Nyeem entered the house. Between his summer classes, his job, and his training, my son was rarely home.
“Hey, Ma. What’s for dinner?” he greeted, kissing my cheek.
“Alfredo chicken lasagna, salad, and garlic bread.”
“That sounds good. I’m starving. I’ll be back after I shower.”
He left the kitchen, and I continued preparing dinner. The lasagna had been in the oven for thirty minutes. I was almost done making the salad, and I would put the garlic bread in the oven in about five minutes.
