Chapter 6

Prepare for change...

November 1, 2018, he had successfully torn down every wall I had built. He was patient. He was kind. He was gentle. We were at dinner eating appetizers when he said, “I want us to be exclusive.”

I was quiet.

“Did you hear me?”

I nodded with a grin, “Yeah. So, exclusive as in you and me only ... no outside men or women.”

“Yes. Exactly.”

I laughed.

He reached for my hand, “I recognize that ... you’re everything I want in a woman and then some. If I thought you’d say yes, “I’d ask you to marry me right now.”

I smiled, “That’s sweet.” I leaned over and kissed his mouth.

“I want you to meet my mom.”

“Your mom.”

“Yes. She lives down in Sarasota. I think it’d be a great little getaway for us.”

“Are we staying with your mom or at a hotel?”

“I mean ... I don’t want to assume anything. I just—”

“I’m ready. I feel what you feel.”

That night, we ended up at my place. I was sitting in his lap with my huge breasts in his hands as I slid up and down his shaft, “Oh, oh, fuck,” I moaned loudly. I leaned into him causing him to lay back, “Oh my god, Warren, babe, shit.”

He held me still, “You, okay?”

“Um hmm, it’s just so fucking good.”

He rolled and ended up on top of me. One leg over his shoulder as he looked down at me enjoying his stroke, “I’m going to make love to you like this every night.”

I smiled, “Yeah baby?”

“Yeah.”

That was the first of many love-making sessions we had before I met his mother in Sarasota the weekend before Thanksgiving. She was a little old school so she didn’t allow us to sleep in the same room.

Yet, he found ways to creep into my room late at night. It was fun making love secretly, quietly.

In December, he proposed and in March, we were married. It happened fast. Just as Ro predicted. I was in love. I couldn’t believe it. He even had me back in church, which made my mother happy.

Ro and her family started joining us on Sunday mornings and afterward, we’d head to a restaurant for lunch. Everything was beautiful. I was ready to start having kids. We had talked about it. We stopped using the pull-out method and threw caution to the wind. Let nature take its course. It was time to become a mother.

Night after night we made love. Night after night, he filled me with his DNA in an attempt to create another life. And month after month, I didn’t get pregnant.

I started to wonder if my past decision was affecting my ability. Like it was the universe’s way of saying when we gave you the chance to become a mother, you threw it away. My heart was heavy.

Warren assured me no matter what that he loved me anyway. That I was the woman for him but both of our mothers wanted grandbabies. I had to find out what the issue was. I made an appointment.

I sat with Warren holding my hand waiting for the doctor to enter the room. There was a knock, and moments later, she entered, “Hi, Dr. Pamela Jones,” she said as she shook our hands, “So, she opened my file, I don’t want you to get worked up because there are a lot of options available.”

“Options,” I said as I looked at Warren.

“Doctor does this mean she can’t—”

“It’s not that it’s impossible, it’s going to be a difficult road. You have some scarring on your uterus. This makes it difficult for an embryo to attach itself to your walls and that’s vital for blood flow to the endometrial lining,” she sighed.