Page 98 of Worth the Vow

“Well, he’s taken some limited edition hockey paraphernalia from multiple people, including Luca,” Dominic explains. “And he’s grabbed some jewelry from women who weren’t paying attention at the hot springs. Somehow he even took off with a hand painted item from the lobby at Everlasting, and we’re still not sure how he managed that.”

“Listen,” Matt says, placing a hand on my shoulder, “I don’t mean to change the subject, but we need to head home. We are so proud of you. You’re going to be amazing with those kiddos, Kate.”

“You are,” Victoria agrees. “I wish you lived closer so I could hire you.”

“Don’t get any ideas,” Dominic interjects, wrapping his arms around me again. “I’m not giving her up.”

“Mom, Dad, can we go, please? I need to get to Nani and Nonno’s house. We’re doing a group FaceTime,” Sienna says. My breath catches as I blink at Dominic. She’s never called me mom before.

“Yeah, sweetheart, go to the car. We’ll be there in a sec,” Dominic answers as my eyes fill with tears. My brothers wave goodbye, and Dominic’s parents corral the kids toward our cars. I try to control my emotions but fail horribly. “Baby, don’t cry.”

He reaches up to wipe my tears away as I gasp for air. “I wasn’t waiting for it, I swear! But I didn’t think it would happen. I was fine if she didn’t call me mom. I know she loves me, okay? Boy, that hit me harder than I thought it would!”

“I know,” Dominic whispers. “She told me she was going to do it, but she wasn’t sure when.”

“Really?”

He nods. “She said she wanted to let the moment speak to her.”

I’m a blubbering mess. “God, I love that girl.”

It was touch-and-go with Sienna for well over a year after Savannah was arrested, and we feared she’d turn into a hellacious teenager. But, so far, she’s been an amazingly calm and well-spoken young woman.

At the car, Sienna waits nervously. When we approach, she runs and throws her arms around me. “Was that okay? I didn’t make you sad, did I? I shouldn’t have said it now. I’m sorry I made you cry.”

“Oh, Tootsie Bell,” I say, then laugh when I realize what I called her. Tootsie Bell. I squeeze her a little tighter, knowing my mom is watching. “These are happy tears. I’m so happy you called me mom.”

“You are, you know that? You’re the only mom I’ve ever known,” Sienna stammers.

“That is the best graduation gift I could have gotten,” I whisper. “I love you so much, Sienna.”

“Love you too, Mom.”

An hour later, Dominic and I arrive at our very quiet home. Unless he takes a day off from work, we’re never home alone, and I hope we get to take full advantage of it.

“You ready for your surprise?” he asks giddily. When I first met my husband, I never thought I’d use his name and giddy in the same sentence. Yet now, so many years later, it’s rare that I find him without a smile. The only times he struggled were when we tried unsuccessfully to get pregnant.

A few months after our discussion about expanding our family, Dominic’s vasectomy was reversed. I wanted to wait a bit, just to be sure that we were on the same page, but I could never get that conversation out of my head. The thought of a little Dominic and Kate hybrid running around was so enticing. We knew it would be tough, with my medical history, but we wanted to try. I just didn’t know how exhausting it would be.

Coming off birth control was too much in its own right. My hormones were out of control, and my cycles made no sense. The brutal periods were back, and Dominic wasn’t prepared for how much pain I’d be in. Previously, I’d managed to keep my pain away from him. He was all too aware this time around, and he hated every second of it.

While we knew the chances were low I’d conceive naturally, we both got our hopes up. When every cycle passed without fail, it drained both of us. I felt like such a failure. It was hard not to compare myself to Savannah, who managed to get herself knocked up whenever she chose to.

“There is no comparison, Katharine,” Dominic told me. “Carrying a child doesn’t make someone a better mother, or a better woman. You will always be leaps and bounds above her.”

While I appreciated the sentiment, I couldn’t stave off the thought that I was less than. After a year of trying, I approached the OBGYN, and he encouraged me to take a break. I was only thirty one, and he thought the stress of trying to conceive was becoming too much. He also encouraged me to go back to the therapist we used after Savannah attacked me, and I agreed.

Therapy was one hell of a breakthrough for me. The family sessions focused much more on the group dynamic, how I came to the family in the first place, and on ensuring the kids didn’t have any trauma moving forward. My individual sessions were all about me, and it enabled me to trauma-dump. Taking care of my dying mother, my father using me, and subsequently going to prison, and my struggle to survive for so many years. When we finally touched on the subject of pregnancy, I broke down. The therapist kept repeating, “It’s not your fault. This is not your fault.” She made me say it over and over, and told me to say it to myself whenever I let the doubts creep in.

Only recently have I broached the subject of trying for a baby with Dominic again. We’ve been incredibly happy. Content. I’d be fine if this was our life, and I know he would too. The thought of tracking cycles, temperatures, charts, and ovulation dates is exhausting. I’ve lived a blissfully ignorant life for a year, never tracking a period, or thinking back to when my last one was.

Which is probably why it’s been twelve weeks, and it just occurred to me last week that the nausea I’ve felt for weeks hasn’t been graduation jitters at all. An emergency appointment, with an ultrasound, confirmed that I am indeed pregnant, and now my graduation jitters have turned into pregnancy announcement jitters.

“I have a surprise for you as well,” I say shyly. I think Dominic will be happy, but I honestly don’t know. He hasn’t mentioned another baby in months. But we screw like bunnies, so he has to know it’s a possibility, right?

“You do? Okay. I need a minute to get yours ready. Wait here?” he says, before kissing me hard and running toward the back door. Two years ago, he began a project building an extension onto the back porch. We spend a tremendous amount of time back there, even in the winter, and Dominic wanted to give us more privacy. He hired a company to install an enclosure, but he insisted on doing everything else himself. The kids and I helped often, especially with adding landscaping. Carter’s most current interest has been with flowers, plants, and ways to use less water in our yard and home. We even added raised beds so Carter can grow his own herbs, fruits, and vegetables.

“You ready, baby?” Dominic shouts. “Come here.”

---