“You know when you said Dad’s name?”
“Yeah?”
“Well—the way you screamed, I bet wherever Dad is in the world—he was able to hear it!”
We both laughed way longer than necessary.
******************
“Leave it alone, Ronny,” I said. “It takes time.”
“You know what happened last time. I just want to be careful.”
Two weeks had passed since that first fateful day my son injected me with a serum to cure my childlessness. I had again been late. This time I wondered if it was the same as last month and I was beginning to have an irregular cycle, probably signaling the onset of menopause. It had happened to some of my younger friends, so I wouldn’t have been shocked. Disappointed, but not shocked.
We both paced the bathroom, afraid to leave it. On the sink sat the little plastic stick I had peed on.
“How are you feeling, Mom?”
“My stomach is in a knot. I don’t think I would be so nervous if I hadn’t screwed things up last month.”
Ronny hugged me and rocked me close in his arms. “I love you, Mom.”
We stayed like that a few more minutes, and I said, “You go. You look. I can’t.”
“Close your eyes, Mom. We’ll both look together,” he said. He led me to the sink where it rested. “OK, I’m looking at the ceiling. When you count to three, we’ll both look.”
“One … two …” and I took a deep breath, “three.” I opened my eyes, and on that Saturday, at 8:30 in the morning, I knew Ronald Alfred Bannix, my son, was going to be a father.
There was a clear “plus” sign showing on the stick. Nothing faint or the least bit ambiguous. Clear as day.
“Mom! Does that mean?”
“I’m pregnant. You’re going to be a dad!”
I guess I had been wrong about barriers. I thought the last one had been crossed when my son delivered his sperm so deep inside of me. But really, the final barrier was when his one special sperm found my egg and burrowed into it, fusing us together forever in another little life.
***************************
I couldn’t see Ronny’s face, but I could sure feel his mouth. It was clamped on my clitoris, and bringing me closer and closer.
He lay flat on the bed and I straddled his head. I steadied myself against the headboard with my hands. We found this the ideal position for oral sex.
It was eight months later, and my swollen belly blocked any sight of Ronny’s handsome face. My hips started bucking.
“That’s it! That’s it! AAAAAHHH! RONNY! I’M CUMMING! OOHHH!” My bladder control wasn’t the best sometimes when I came, but I did pretty well this time.
I hung onto the headboard, spent and exhausted. Ronny shimmied down from under me, then helped me lie on the bed.
“Ronny, you make mommy feel so good! They get better and better.”
I lay on my back with my knees bent and my feet flat on the bed. One of my most comfortable positions. Ronny lay aside me, and he launched into his favorite new hobby: sucking his mom’s full breasts.
“Mmmm,” he murmured. “Mom, it keeps getting sweeter and creamier!” He went back to his work. I let him breastfeed any time he wanted. In the house that is. I wasn’t about to give him a snack in public! “Your nipples have gotten a lot bigger, and there are little holes in them to let the milk out,” he observed.