Do you ever wonder what it would be like for your life to change dramatically in a matter of minutes? What that one thing could be that changes the course of your life? Would you be scared? Calm? Would you be so excited that you’d want to shout the change from the rooftop, or would you be so upset that you’d want to hide in the darkest depths of yourself? What would drive you to do one or the other?

I wouldn’t know. Because I’ve never had something that dramatic happen to me. But I know someone who it has happened to. She’s 24 years old, bright, pretty, athletic, and a real partier. Now she’s pregnant. Now…she’s calm.
"I just knew," she said to me, "it’s in God’s hands now."
"Everything happens for a reason," I said back. She agreed, and I could hear her smiling over the phone, happy that I understood.
"Did you tell your parents?"
"Yeah."
"How’d they react?"
She took a minute to answer, indicating tension between herself and her family. She finally spoke. She told me that her mother was very supportive but that her sister said it would ruin her life, and her brother didn’t know yet.
Nothing about her father. I wondered but didn’t say anything. "You’re the one who knows what’s best for you," I said. In my head, I was already seeing all the ways it was going to change things between us. Or was it? I was excited for her, called her "Mama" several times. I wanted to rub her belly and watch her start to show. Am I a hypocrite?

No, I don’t think so. I had conflicting emotions about her position. Yet I could be happy for her as well as nervous for her. I’m only human, right? I couldn’t even imagine being in her position. Couldn’t imagine being calm, being happy. Couldn’t imagine keeping the baby.

But I’m not her. And she’s not me.

I just wanted to welcome the newest edition of my family to everyone. His name is Riley Williams. He hails from Missouri and came by way of airplane to New York, just for me. He was born June 1 and is now a fit 2.9 pounds. He's giving me sleepless nights but endless entertainment. He slips and slides on the wood floor, constantly falling flat on his belly, will lay there for a split second then jump back up and start running and falling all over again. Today is the first day I've left him alone for this long. I'm praying he won't destroy my apartment by the time I get home. He's a clever little guy, constantly figuring out ways to get through the gate to the rest of the apartment. Becca and I came home the other day, and found him trying to sprint back to the right side of the gate before we could catch him. He's fast, but not that fast. One look at his face though, and it's hard to get mad. I just can't wait until he's fully trained. My life will be somewhat back to normal after that.

I wrote this a while ago. It hasn't been edited but I figured I'd share it. Enjoy.

The minute he walked in the door, she knew. She couldn’t see him, but she could feel him. Her heart started to pound in her chest and she lost track of the conversation she was having with a friend. She stared blindly ahead, trying to figure out what to do with the mess of emotions inside her.
It shouldn’t be like this, she thought. We haven’t been together in over three years, he’s dating someone new, I was living with someone. It shouldn’t be like this.
But it was.
They were each other’s first love. He was her first lover. He taught her what it meant to love someone. What it meant to be loved. They grew up, matured, had experiences without the other, but they still had…something. It wasn’t definable. Sure, all of the clichéd phrases popped into her head, "you never stop loving your first love." But was it true? Can you ever stop loving your first love?
I’m sure people do, but can I? she thought to herself. Do I? That’s the more important question. Or is it just that, now that we’ve spent so much time apart, my memory has been altered; have I forgotten the bad, remembered only the good?
She couldn’t turn around, not yet. She had to brace herself to see him; to look into his eyes. Was the spark going to be there? Were her palms going to sweat? Was she going to stutter when she spoke to him for the first time in years?
She took a deep breath, turned around.
There he was. He looked the same, yet different. His eyes met and held hers. She felt the pull, that longing to be held by him, loved by him. It rocked her. She hoped he felt the same. If he didn’t, she would be devastated.
She couldn’t move towards him, her feet were locked to the floor. It was her last grip on life. On life without him. Once she took that step, if she took that step, her life was no longer her own. More, her heart was no longer her own.
She was afraid. She never lost her heart completely to him the first time. But this time was different, this time was it. Everything.
What emotion should come first? Which one should be recognized? Which one should be blocked? Which one should be shut away until she was able to handle it? Which one did she really feel? Which one was real?
She had butterflies in her stomach and her palms were tingling. She had yet to touch him; but she could feel him.
His hands on her, his lips on her lips. She felt him inside her, around her, surrounding her; till she wasn’t whole without him. She felt what was. She felt what could be.
She felt alive.
Scared.
She felt love. And it knocked the breath out of her.