Pregnant Two
Seagate, New York
July 4, 1956: 7:12 P.M.
“Mitchell.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Mitchie,” Taking his hand, leading him to the sofa, “I’ve something important to tell you.” Sitting apart from him, not knowing... Having no idea what his reaction might be. Wanting to see his face, wanting to see his reaction. “I’ve always been pretty regular...”
Slightly alarmed by her demeanor, “ ‘Regular’?”
“My period. My periods have always been between the twenty-fifth and twenty-eighth of each month...”
Not realizing what she was trying to say, or its importance, “Yeah,” he interrupted, “except when we got married, huh!”
A bit annoyed at the interruption, “Yeah, that’s right.” she said. “Now please, Mitch, let me finish!” Placing his hand on her stomach, softening the tone of her voice, “A few weeks ago, when we came back from the boardwalk and took a shower together, remember?”
“Sure!” he said, nodding his head. “Yeah!” He sure did remember and was looking forward to doing ‘that’ again, real soon!
“Well, Mitchie, we didn’t use a rubber, and...”
“Marcie?” Beginning to understand what she was trying to tell him. “Once! One time without a rubber and you’re, uh...”
“ ‘Pregnant’, Mitchie.” Watching his face, seeing his mouth drop open, “Maybe it’s too soon to tell, but I think... No, I know I’m pregnant!”
Their unblinking eyes locked.
His hand, on her stomach, had been still, but now, moving in a circular motion, lowering his eyes, watching his hand, that seemed to be moving by its own volition. “Marcie... I don’t know what to say... You, uh, want a baby, now?”
“Oh, yes!” Said emphatically, “I want a baby so badly, I can’t even tell you how much!”
At that moment, “But, Marcie,” his thoughts shooting off in different directions, “how’ll we live?” Looking about the one room apartment, “Where’ll we live? How will we be able to afford a baby without you working?” In near panic, “My, God, there’s so much we’ll need for it!”
“Mitchie,” placing her finger over his lips, “shhh, Mitchie.”
He stopped speaking.
“First off, forget everything else: the money, where and how we’ll live. First off, Mitch, first thing... do you want a baby? Do you want to be a daddy?”
Throughout his life, whenever he’d been in love, Mitchell had loved wholeheartedly, always feeling at though there was not enough room in his heart to contain the emotion he felt. The loneliest times of his life... The worst times of his life had been when he’d had no-one to love.
Now, Do I want a baby? he thought, Do I want to be – the thought incomprehensible, the thought actually inconceivable – a father? Do I want a part of Marsha and me to love? To always, no matter what, to always love! Do I want, oh, God, to be a daddy?...
“Oh, God, yes!” Tears coming to his eyes, “Yes, Marcie, I do!” Hugging her, “I do! I love you!”
Waiting, hoping for this response, “I love you, too!” Relieved, “Mitchie, I love you, too!”
Marsha and Mitchell kissed and...
Though their tongues touched, this kiss, oddly, was not sensual, this kiss was...? Spiritual.
Both sensed this and, though, not prone to easy tears herself, Marsha’s tears came, too.
But their kiss, no matter how spiritual, because Marsha and Mitchell were human, after all, soon became sensual and in a rather short time, the sofa bed now open...
Her on her back. He above her, on his stomach, at a right angle to her.
Thrilling him as always, Marsha’s bare breasts cushioned against his bare chest, the now passionate kiss breaking, looking at her breasts, as always, wondering at their beauty, holding one within both hands, rubbing his lips over the nipple... then his tongue... Then, his mouth covered it completely as, scooting lower on the bed, leaving her breast, his tongue fondled Marsha’s navel a moment then stopping, laying the side of his face flat upon her stomach... Mitchell did not move.
Taking a few seconds to realize what he was doing, entwining the fingers of one hand in his hair, placing her other hand, palm down onto his back, feeling the motion of his heart, as...
Inches away, Mitchell saw the rise of Marsha’s mound, the black tangle of hair, the slim roundness of her thighs, her long legs and thin feet, and...
By now his head, along with his mouth and tongue, would be attempting to move downward, while Marsha, depending on whether she was fresh out of a shower or bath and whether she wanted him to do that now, would either be allowing him to go further, or stopping the downward movement of his head, along with his mouth and tongue, but...
No matter because, lying still, hearing the soft, fluid sounds of his wife’s stomach, Mitchell thought of what, even at that second, was growing within... was growing within this beloved stomach that his face now lay upon.
***
Throughout his life, since Mitchell became old enough to realize, his penis had always been the most self-serving member of his body, a source of, most often, frustration and, most often, usually self-gained pleasure, and the fluid that, most pleasurably, came from within was the result of that enjoyable, albeit, most often self-gained pleasure and, yes, since he was old enough to know, of course he’d known that that fluid was one of the major components that formed human life, but...
***
To do it!
To really...
To actually make a baby with his penis, with his fluid?
Now, lying as he was, with his cheek in the soft hollow of his wife’s stomach and to know, to know that he did it! That he, and his self serving penis had actually made a baby was...
That he had actually made a baby was – and truly, it always is – nothing short of a miracle, and...
Mitchell felt such an overflowing of love for that which he had, for that whom he now lay next to, for that that was not yet born that once again his sentiments became too much to contain and – the many times throughout his life when his emotions had opened the valves to his heart and eyes he’d felt less than manly, and – fighting a sob, his heart lurching, biting his lip against the stinging behind his eyes and the pain within his throat, but...
With her hand flat upon his back, feeling the catch within his chest, “Shhh,” Marsha whispered to her husband, “Shhh, my baby.”
Of all of God’s miracles...
Of all of God’s miracles, to Mitchell Lipensky; one synonymous with the other, woman-kind and love, above all else, is the most wondrous...
