“That’s wonderful of you,” I said. I genuinely meant it, but I also couldn’t help but wonder what would happen to Vincent if the in vitro process worked out for the family. Success with fertility doctors had been the source of two of my foster home departures. The longest I’d ever lived at a foster home was thirteen months. Things had been going great, and they’d even drafted up the adoption paperwork, but then the wife suddenly became pregnant. They decided they didn’t need an older kid like me when they could have a baby of their own. I knew I shouldn’t get involved, but I had already given my notice, so I didn’t have much to lose. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure,” the woman said. She moved the fidgety toddler from one arm to the other.
“What’s your plan with Vincent if you do get pregnant?” I asked.
The woman didn’t look upset with the question, but, rather, confused. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t mean to overstep,” I started. “It’s just that I was in foster care for a good part of my childhood, and I had a few foster parents that kicked me to the curb once they found out they were expecting. I just don’t want any child to experience the hurt that I felt.” I hoped I’d said my piece gently enough that I hadn’t offended anyone.
“Ah,” the woman said. “Well, we have no intention of trading Vincent in for a newer model. He’s part of our family now.” I breathed a sigh of relief. “As a matter of fact, we’re looking into the process of adopting him.”
I apologized profusely for rushing to judgment, but the woman actually thanked me for taking the time to ask questions instead of making assumptions. We had a surprisingly interesting conversation about the realities of foster care. She seemed genuinely thankful for my insight as someone who had been where Vincent was, and I was open with her about the ups and downs of the foster care system.
When it was time for them to go back and see the doctor, I said, “This really is such a wonderful thing you’re doing for Vincent. I admire you both so much for taking him into your home, and I wish you the best of luck with any other future children.”
I stood up to shake the woman’s hand, and she took notice of my bump for the first time. “You too,” she said with a smile.
Despite the positivity put forth toward me throughout the day, something was bothering me. Now that I wasn’t hiding my pregnancy, I was more aware than ever of the cruel irony of working at the clinic. I felt guilty. These women had tried for years and years, spending thousands of dollars to have a child of their own, and I’d gotten pregnant on the first try. I knew it was something beyond my control, but it still made me feel as though I was selfish for some reason. When I got home from work, I expressed my thoughts to Alexander. All he said was, “God must’ve wanted us to be together.”
Chapter 26
Alexander
It had been two weeks since the idea had first popped into my head, but I’d been majorly procrastinating. I couldn’t put it off any longer. Casey and I were engaged, and, with the baby on the way, that meant the wedding could be any day now. It seemed to be implied at my parents’ house that we’d have a longer engagement, but there was something inside me that told me Casey wanted to get married sooner. I knew it was only a matter of time before she came to me and asked if we could get married before the baby came. In fact, part of me hoped she would. I wanted to be the one to bring up the subject, but I knew it wasn’t my call to make. I wouldn’t be the one walking into my special day with an extra thirty-pound bump in front of me. It wasn’t fair of me to ask Casey to sacrifice the day she had dreamed of just so we could be married before our baby was born. Nonetheless, in case she happened to ask, I wanted to be ready with my vows at any moment. In fact, I wanted to be ready with more than that.
Rolling my chair closer to my desk, I tried to find the words to start. How could I sum up my feelings for Casey on a single piece of paper? I wanted something special for her on our wedding day, and I knew a letter was the perfect way to go. She’d mentioned a few times throughout our relationship that one of the worst parts of foster care was never getting much mail, since she never really had a permanent address. Sure, we’d decided on the car ride back from Tampa that, whenever we did decide to marry, we would recite vows we wrote ourselves, but I wanted something more personal for Casey. I wanted to share with her the commitments and passions I didn’t want to share in front of our family and friends. I placed the tip of the ballpoint pen against the paper and hoped it would find its own way.
Dearest Casey,
You’re reading this because our special day has finally come. Should I say finally—or is “already” more suitable? It’s been a whirlwind, that’s for sure. A year ago, I couldn’t imagine this life with you. Now, I can’t imagine this life without you. I know we’ll be going in front of our loved ones in a bit and reading our nice, put-together vows to one another, but I want to share some private vows with you, as well.
I vow to put our marriage first. I know I can be a bit of a workaholic, or a gym rat, or a camping recluse, but you come first. We come first. I want you to always know that and never be afraid to tell me if you feel like that isn’t the case.
I vow to be the best father to our daughter that I possibly can. I’ve heard this whole parenting thing is hard, but I’m going to work my hardest to figure it out. I’m going to be there for every milestone and ballet recital and loose tooth and college tour.
I vow to be patient with you. I know a lot of the families you lived with didn’t provide you the patience you needed when you were adjusting, but you don’t have to worry about that with me. I know that these next few months will be challenging for both of us, but I will be as patient and understanding as I can.
If I write out every vow I want to make to you, you’ll be reading this until the baby’s born. For now, I leave you with this: I vow to never stop appreciating you. I vow to never stop trying new things with you. I vow to visit your mother’s grave with you every Christmas and honor her memory in any way we can. I vow to not only be a good parent, but a good co-parent. I vow to try to like white chocolate macadamia cookies. I vow to make lasagna once a week. I vow to love you the best that I can.
I’m thankful for all that you have brought into my life. You have taught me about honesty and openness and selflessness, and I wake up every day grateful that I’m starting another day with you. I’m thankful for the passion that we share and that you’re not afraid to be adventurous with me. You make me want to be a better person.
I love you, and I can’t wait to say “I do!”.
Yours forever,
Alexander
I lifted my pen, pleased with myself, and pushed the pieces of paper to the side. I wasn’t the strongest writer, but four years as the leader of a business had taught me to effectively put my thoughts onto paper. Telling Casey my hopes and dreams for our life together was the easy part, though. I’d spent the better part of the past few months with her. The next letter I wanted to write would be the tricky one. How could I sum the next eighteen years into a single note? I had to at least try.
Dearest baby girl,
You probably won’t be reading this letter until years from now, and hopefully we’re just as close as I hope we will be. You’re a beautiful, wonderful surprise, the love of our lives, even though we haven’t met you yet. I have high hopes for you, kid. I hope you have your mother’s big, brown eyes and innocent smile. I secretly hope you get my athletic ability, but, if not, your mother’s artistic talent would be nice, too. I pray that you have your mother’s resilience and your dad’s determination. Together, I know they will make an unbeatable pair.
I just wrote out my vows for your mother, and I thought now would be a good time to share my promises to you. Just like you’re going to be experiencing all sorts of new things, I’m new to this whole parenting thing. Let’s learn together. That’s my first promise. I will always try my best and learn together with you and your mother.
I promise to be the kind of fa
ther you can come to with any sort of problem. I don’t want you to ever worry about getting in trouble, and I want you to always feel like you can be open with me. I will try my best to be as open-minded and helpful as I can be. That’s what fathers are for, and I don’t want you to doubt that for a single second.
I promise to attend every dance recital, or soccer game, or spelling bee, or father/daughter dance, or choir concert you want me at. I can be a bit of a workaholic, so I may need your help with that one. You and your mother are the most important parts of my life already, so I can’t even imagine how much love I’ll feel once I actually get to meet you. I don’t want to miss a single important milestone in your life.
I promise to support each and every one of your dreams. I don’t want you to ever wonder whether or not I’m on your side, because I’ll always be right there. Along with that, I promise to respect your individuality and let you live the life you want to live.
I promise to go through the crazy teenage years with as much grace as I can. No promises that I’ll be perfect, but I’ll try my best. Right now, raising a teenager is the furthest thing from my mind, but I know that I’ll blink and it’ll be here. I promise to give you your space and freedom to explore who you are as a person and how you fit into this world. I will never judge your decisions and always help you be the best you can.
Finally, I promise to always be your number one fan. Your biggest supporter. Your cheerleader. Your confidant. Your amigo. Your right-hand man. Your hype man. Your best pal. Your friend. Your father. My sweet baby girl, I already love you so much. I promise that that love will never stop. I promise to love you unconditionally and always help you find your way.
Love always,
Dad
As I signed “Dad” for the first time in my life, I felt both excited and overwhelmed. It suddenly occurred to me how vastly unprepared we were for our baby’s entrance into the world. We’d gotten so caught up in the holidays and family and the engagement that we’d neglected to realize that we were around two months away from having a baby in our home. I closed my eyes and thought back to the first time I went to Brett’s house after his first daughter was born. What did I see there? A highchair. We didn’t have one of those yet. Baby gates, and baby-proof cabinet clips, and baby monitors—why hadn’t I thought of any of this? We didn’t even have a crib yet. Casey had bought some pink onesies and burp cloths since finding out we were having a girl, but that wasn’t nearly enough.
I panicked as I scribbled some ideas down on a pad of Post-It notes I kept on my desk for exactly this reason. Highchair. Stroller. Car seat. Diapers. Changing table. Baby gate. Baby monitor. Blankets. Baby wipes. Diaper cream. Pacifier. Diaper bag. Anything I’d seen at Brett’s house or on a television show that involved babies made its way onto my list. Call baby-proofer? I wrote with a question mark. I wasn’t sure if such a person even existed, but, at the very least, it would remind me that we needed to baby-proof the house. How about those contraptions people had in their homes to dispose of diapers? What were they even called? A quick Google search told me that they were Diaper Genies, and I added that right to the top of the list.
“Take a deep breath, Alexander,” I whispered to myself. I placed my head in my palms and rubbed my eyes. Calmer now, I looked back over the letter I had written to our future child. I cared, and that was more than lots of fathers could say. I was going to be fine. I would get the hang of being a father. I told myself over and over again that the nerves were the worst part. I’d learn all about raising a child as it came at me. For good measure, I added Buy book for first-time fathers to my baby list.
The letter I’d written stared me down as a reminder that I was doing just fine. As I folded the paper into thirds, I wondered what our baby girl would be like. Would she look more like me, or more like Casey? What sports would she like? Would she take ballet lessons like Emily had as a child? Or would she take skating lessons, like Connor and Patrick had? Maybe she would ice skate. There was a whole world of possibilities out there, and I wanted my daughter to have whatever she wanted.
I hadn’t realized until I put these words to paper how thrilled I was about becoming a father. Sure, I was also quite intimidated, but I figured that just came with the territory. When it came down to it, I was counting down the days until I officially became a father. It hadn’t been on my radar before meeting Casey, but, now, I couldn’t wait for our bundle of joy to arrive. She would be absolutely perfect.
I brushed tears away from my eyes as I stuffed the letter inside an envelope. Ignoring the bitter taste, I licked the envelope shut and ran my fingers over the opening. The next time that letter would see the light of day would be when my baby girl was old enough to read it. That brought a smile to my face. In the neatest handwriting I could, I wrote “Baby Girl Preston” on the front. For now, the two letters to the most important girls in my life would be safe in my bottom desk drawer.
Chapter 27
Casey
I walked down the carpeted staircase and marched into Alexander’s study, a rush of determination flooding every inch of my body. I had been thinking about this since the moment we’d gotten home from Tampa, and I hoped that at least a small part of Alexander was on the same page. “Babe, can I talk to you?” I asked.
Alexander, wearing nothing but a pair of boxers, looked up at me with that sexy gaze of his. “Sure,” he said. “What’s up?”
“I was just thinking,” I said. My voice trailed off as I tried to decide whether or not I should keep going. There was a teeny tiny voice in the back of my mind that was still worried about scaring off Alexander.
“C’mon, Case. Tell me what’s on your mind.” Alexander stood from his plush rolling chair and leaned against his desk.
I took a deep breath and went for it. “I want to get married before the baby comes.”
“Ok,” Alexander said without hesitation. His face didn’t show even the slightest hint of surprise or curiosity.
“Ok?” I repeated. “That’s it?”
Alexander moved closer to and rested both of his hands on my shoulders. “I’d marry you next week, and I’d marry you next year,” he said. “Whatever makes you happy is good with me. Besides, I sort of had a feeling this was what you’d decide.”
I was surprised to hear Alexander say this, but, at the same time, I wasn’t surprised in the slightest. He always seemed to know what was on my mind. “I’ve been thinking about this a lot,” I revealed. That was the truth. I’d spent most of the car ride back wondering if getting married while pregnant was a good idea. Once I decided I was ok with it, I pondered if I should even bother asking Alexander. I finally decided that the worst thing he could say was no. “I want to have our baby as Mr. and Mrs. Preston.”
“Then that we shall,” Alexander said. He smiled and kissed me on the forehead in that way I loved. “But I don’t want you to stress. You’re already far along in the pregnancy. Are you able to put together a wedding in a month?”
I shot him a mischievous grin. “You bet! I’ve been planning my wedding since I was ten years old.”
“Casey,” Alexander started. He took me by the hand in a way that said something was wrong. “Are you able to have that dream wedding of yours if we get married so quickly? I don’t want you to settle.”
“You’re my dream wedding,” I said. “As long as you’re standing there at the end of the aisle, it’ll be a dream come true.” I meant every word. Alexander was the most wonderful man—and boyfriend, and fiancé—I could ever imagine. This was the easiest question I’d answered since I’d accepted his proposal.
“Alright then.” Alexander let out a light chuckle. “Guess you better get to planning, then.”
The wheels started turning in my mind as I thought of all the things I had to take care of as soon as possible. I knew our wedding would be small, just family and friends, of which we didn’t have a lot, so I hoped that finding a venue so last-minute wouldn’t be a problem. I knew the exact right person to hel
p me plan everything: Liana. She had one more week of maternity leave left, so she could at least help me get started. Lucky for me, I had a best friend who was the queen of party throwing and event planning. I’d always thought that would’ve been a better career fit for her than social work. Oh well. Other brides wouldn’t get to experience her stellar planning, but I would.
“Are you sure?” Liana asked, when I was done explaining my decision to move the wedding up. She’d listened intently as I told her what I wanted in a wedding, as if I was a newly-engaged bride meeting with my wedding planner for the first time.
“I am, Li,” I said. “This is what I want. I want to be married to my baby’s father before she’s born.”
Liana got up from her chair at her kitchen table and walked out of the room and up the stairs. Unsure if I was supposed to follow, and uncomfortable due to the baby’s positioning above my bladder, I sat there and waited. She emerged with a navy blue binder that easily weighed five pounds. “You’re lucky your best friend doesn’t throw anything away,” Liana said. “Remember this bad boy?”
I snorted. “Your wedding binder? How could I forget? You brought that thing everywhere for a year.”
Liana sat beside me and flipped through the pages, skipping the parts she knew were irrelevant for me. Florist? Too complicated. Ballrooms? Too big for our small wedding. Photo booths? Unnecessary. She stopped on a binder divider labeled “Venues- Small and Medium”.
“A-ha,” Liana said, clearly quite pleased with herself. “These are the venues that I think will be good for you. Some of them are a bit less formal, that we looked at for our rehearsal dinner and Sunday luncheon, but they’re all nice.”
“I wouldn’t expect anything less from you,” I smiled. We decided our best bet was to divide and conquer. Liana opened up the prongs of the binder and gave me the six venues she had for the first half of the alphabet, and she took the ones in the second half. After looking at photos online and confirming that I’d be content with any of them, we started our phone calls. At this point, we were more concerned with availability than price. Alexander had given me his credit card with full license to put any charges I wanted onto it. Of course, I wasn’t going to take advantage, but, as long as the venue wasn’t absurdly priced, I figured we’d be fine.
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