Week 1 - Ever the Same

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I'll be there for you and you'll be there for me
Forever it's you
Forever in me
Ever the same
——Ever the Same, Rob Thomas.

Weeks one and two
Your baby has yet to be conceived.

August 15, 2021

"Explain to me why the hell you aren't pregnant?" Grayson Allen frowned at his wife.  "I thought I was pretty damn good at this.  I got you pregnant without even trying once."

Caitlin Allen rolled her eyes and tried not to get frustrated.  "It's only been a couple of months, Gray," she said, mostly patiently.  "And we're not even actively trying.  Just not preventing."

Grayson snorted loudly at that.  "Caitlin, with the amount of time that you and I spend horizontal and naked, we should be having octuplets by now."

"Grayson, I know that you understand biology well enough to know exactly how dumb that statement is," she huffed in return.  "And, please, don't even start wishing for eight babies.  One would be sufficient."

Grayson bit his tongue.  He could tell he was stressing his wife out and he didn't want to do that.  He knew that Cait was every bit as anxious about this as he was.  But she was displaying uncharacteristic patience. 

He also knew that Cait was still concerned about her ability to not only get pregnant but to stay that way long enough to actually give birth.  The sting of losing a baby might have faded enough for her to consider trying again.  But the pain never fully went away.

"Sorry," he said quietly, putting his hands on her shoulders and gently trying to ease the tension he felt. Cait was in the middle of making a salad to go with dinner and he knew that now wasn't the time to try to get her to reassure him that there wasn't some inadequacy on his part that was the cause of the fact that she was decidedly not with child.

Before Cait could respond, the side door of their Memphis house banged open and Cait's brother Connor barreled through it. "Hey guys," he called out, dropping a bag in the laundry room.  He was enthusiastically greeted by the yellow lab that had been laying on the cool tile floor in the kitchen, ignoring his owners. Cait was still getting used to the fact that Connor's voice was now a lot lower than it had been even a year ago.

"How was soccer practice?" Cait asked him.

"Good," Connor nodded. Connor was about to start his junior year of high school at St. Benedict of Auburndale, a private Catholic school in nearby Cordova, Tennessee, a Memphis suburb where he lived with his father and stepmother. And he played club soccer for the Lobos Rush U16 Premier team, who he'd been practicing with.

Taller than his sister by nearly a head now, Connor nonetheless paid close attention when Cait spoke. She was the bridge between the teen and his much older father and stepmother.

"Everything okay with you two?" Connor asked now, raising an eyebrow. "G only rubs your shoulders while you're cooking when he thinks you're stressed."

"Everything is fine, Connor," Cait told him.  Connor glanced toward his brother-in-law at that one.  Fine didn't always mean fine when his sister said it. They shared a look and Grayson nodded. 

"Dad and Joan called," Cait noted. "They'll be back in a couple of days."

"So you're stuck with us until then, sport," Grayson added.

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