This story was inspired by imagining what it was like when my 35-year-old mother told my 42-year-old father she suspected she was pregnant.
photo by a nurse (I'm guessing)
'Dad, Mom and me (I'm five days old)'
Pregnant
Before he left for work, she gave him his customary two kisses along with "I'm late" and "Next month, I turn thirty-four. It could be the change or..." Pregnant passed between them in a smile. He'd left with that smile, and it remained with him for most of the day—like lyrics from a favourite song.
His youngest son was seven. His oldest twelve. He thought the months of diaper changes and early morning feedings were behind him. Still, he filled out forms, sorted mail, sold stamps with an extra supply of glee. He whistled while he worked.
"You're happy today, Jim." His assistant Lorna caught herself in time to add. "Not that you're usually grumpy." She chuckled. "Oh, you know what I mean."
He wanted so badly to tell her, to share the joy, but it was too early. They didn't know yet. It could be the change. But what if she was pregnant and there was something wrong with the baby? What if...? 34? The older the mother, the higher the risk. That had begun the spring blizzard of worry. That's why he had decided to take the long way home. He couldn't bring the worry home to Ollie. So he was driving through the back roads of Eriksdale looking for early signs of spring. His car's tires crunched melting snow, dug up the slush, and showered it into the ditch. The melting snow, the slush cheered him, but the worry didn't release him. It countered with four kids on your salary. Four mouths to feed. Four bodies to dress.
We'll manage. Ollie's calm, clear voice. We'll manage. It was like she was in the car with him.
And he knew she was right. Together they could conquer the world. He pointed the nose of the car towards home.
written on February 16, 2026
Have you seen the film
I highly recommend it!
