My husband and I were on a roll. Working long days and late nights, weekends and doubles, we saved our money, packed our bags and made it to San Diego. We took up surfing and fell in love with the California weather all over again. Wednesdays were our date nights at the local reggae joint, we fished during the day when we weren’t surfing and we finally found a place to plant our roots. It was so refreshing to enjoy our marriage and reap the benefits of our hard work. This went on for a few months, just living the life that we so deserved. It was a weekend in September when I went away for a freelance job and something felt different. I had a glass or three…of tequila to help me relax before bed. I woke in the middle of the night, not buzzed or a bit tired. I made it home the next evening, settled in and called the hubby. “Can you pick up a bottle of tequila on the way home? BTW, I think I’m pregnant.” I couldn’t wait for him to get home because all I wanted was a nice shot of tequila to warm my soul before I hit the sack(and of course I missed him). I quickly take the pregnancy test that he also bought with the tequila, and the result revealed positive before I could even finish reading the box. I panicked. I peed on the second test, another instant POSITIVE. I came out of the bathroom, looked at my husband and began to cry. You should have seen his face. I felt horrible, why am I crying and not jumping up and down with excitement? Why does he look like he just lost a bunch of money at the casino? If we were going to be so disappointed, maybe we should have been using a contraceptive and not the unreliable “pull out method.” Needless to say, that bottle of tequila was never opened and our lives have not been the same since.