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I had been married to Jenna for five years. Our sixth anniversary was coming up in less than a month and we were both looking forward to it. I was 33 at the time, Jenna was 31. Our marriage was pleasant and happy, with only the occasional argument which we were both eager and logical to fix. We both saw a great, long future for us with everything going as planned. That was, of course, until everything seemed to come crashing down.
“We should have a baby,” Jenna said suddenly as we laid in bed reading.
“Oh yeah?” I responded.
“Yeah,” Jenna continued, “We’ve been married for almost six years, I just think it’s time.”
I had always known I wanted children and shared her feelings that now might be the time, but I had never given it much thought. I looked her in the eyes and saw the sincerity and love that had always been there for the last eight years.
“Ok, let’s do it,” I answered after pausing to think about it.
Jenna’s face lit up with delight. I always loved seeing her happy and it still aroused a strong love from deep inside my soul. She hugged me and kissed me, it felt as affectionate and loving as the kiss after we both said our vows. We made love that night, as we did many nights, and went to sleep with both of us dreaming of our future child together.
