How lucky we are.

On February 14 eight years ago I got a small gift-wrapped box and a card from my boys' mother. We lived in a small apartment, I remember standing in front of the Ikea table in a dining room which was really more of a dining corridor when she handed me the present. My only child Ezra was probably sitting at the table playing quietly with his toys and whispering to himself. It had been a sleepy time that past three years with only three people and one very small dog, who was probably shuffling around looking for crumbs below Ezra's feet, which were a few years from reaching the floor.

The card had a 1950's-style cartoon illustration of a grinning man rolling dice. It said "Happy Valentine's Day..." and on the inside, said, "...Let's get lucky tonight." Under that she had written, "Whoops, looks like we already did."

I sensed that I was missing something. Then I opened the present. It was a pair of booties in a clear plastic box. I looked at the booties. Then I looked at the card. Then I lay down on the floor on my back in the middle of the dining corridor.

She'd been introducing the idea of another kid a lot and I'd resisted. There's no un-cliche way of describing how I felt about Ezra, so I'll just say I adored him. It was a mission of mine to give him everything of myself and at the time I thought that meant all of myself. But I did imagine what it would be like if the happiness that I had were doubled. So I'd been tricking the reluctant side of my head by not making precautions and by responding to the anxious thoughts with a "whatever happens happens" attitude.

Tonight nine months later was the last night of that short, sleepy age, three years of having only one kid. My luck was just about to change.