"If this isn't love" Part IV

So tell me, have you ever been high?......off love, of course. You know, high in the clouds that you can't see anything or anyone but your boo? So high, that you have no awareness of all the chaos that's going on around you? That amazingly euphoric feeling that has you so spell bound that you pray that it never wanes? It's love. Pure unadulterated love. That "I am he and he is me" love. That's where our perfect little partnership rested. High.

Well....high, until around the time of my college graduation. It was two weeks prior to the most glorious day of my life, and I was, literally, handed the perfect job opportunity. I'm talking salary pay, unheard of benefits, cross-country all-expense paid travel. The works! But my little bubble exploded when I realized that my perfect job offer came with a side of grief. I found out in my interview that I would have to pack up my life and relocate it more than two hours away. Now, would you believe me if I told you that I cried? Yes...in my interview. Well, I did...right after my prospective boss told me that I couldn't accept the job without accepting the move. I was hurt...my feelings were hurt...my soul was hurt. Taking my dream job meant giving up my most prized possession...my high. I would have to give up the feeling with which I had become so passionately acquainted. I would be sacrificing the very foundation of our relationship.

We talked, we prayed and needless to say, I took the job. I had only one condition: we had to promise to see and spend quality time with each other every weekend. (And I might have had one tiny secondary condition that I would only keep the job for 3 months. I mean, that was more than enough time to get in, get some experience and get out. Don't you think?). Anyway, we came up with a plan and decided that we'd rotate weekends: I'd drive down one weekend, and he'd drive up the next. This way, we only had to make it through a span of four days without laying eyes on each other. It was the best we could do....and at that time, we had no other choice.

And so, it began. Every Friday evening, I was either racing home from work to get my place ready for my honey's arrival, or racing down I-40 on my two hour road trip to his place. But then, on every Sunday, I was either making my slow and dreadful return back up I-40, or I was painfully watching my love load up his truck and wave to me "good bye." (Now, you see? I never said it was a perfect plan.) In between those painful goodbyes were hundreds of text messages and phone calls that were hours on end. And just an FYI...no, those calls were not always filled with none-stop conversation. You're bound to get plenty of dead air time when you put a TV junkie on the phone with an XBOX game head. But, even through that, we did all that we thought we could do to keep things above and out of harmful water.

To our delight, the first two and half months sped by faster than we ever thought. And although I really liked my job, I was still ready and prepared to call it quits after that 3 month mark. I was in a brand new, yet amazingly boring city, living solo with no friends or family, and boo-less. I had left my entire life behind, and I was ready to go back and pick it all up again. But then...just when I was about to start my search for a new job...the unthinkable happened....

I was impregnated!!! (little bit too much Valentine's Day activity...[insert nervous giggle here]). Can you believe it??? I couldn't!!! At least I didn't want to!!! It was just too much! I already lived 2 hours away from my boyfriend (now future baby daddy) and almost 5 hours away from my closest relatives, and had no local friends to speak of (mainly due to the fact that almost all of my coworkers were 10-15 years my senior)! Now I'm pregnant?!?! JEEESSSUUUSSS!!!!!

"OK, now, how is this supposed to work?" "I just graduated from college 3 months ago!" "I just started my job 3 months ago!" "We're not married." "We're not even engaged!" "What are we going to do?" "How am I supposed to feel?" "Are we ready to have a baby?" "Is he happy about this?" "How do I tell my PARENTS?" "How do I tell ANYBODY?" "My parents are going to KILL me!!!" "Calm down...I'm grown." "Wait a minute...am I grown???" "Does this mean I can move now, or will I be stuck in this place for ever?"

My mind was racing! I felt like crying. I felt like laughing. (I think I did laugh. Hysterically, at that.) I felt like panicking. I felt like running. Where? I don't know. I was paralyzed. I was scared. I didn't know what to do. But then, I remembered to check in with the other slice to this pregnant sandwich...he was, in fact, the one that had to read (and reread) the results of the test to me.

"Don't worry about it. It's going to be ok." Those were the words that my love spoke to me.  Those calm, reassuring words...words that I so desperately needed to hear. To hear not only then, but several times during what was to come.

I hope these posts are as fun for you to read, as they are for me to write. Especially since there's going to be a part V. Be sure to come back to see what happens next!