Baby Bottle Brews

Perfectly Imperfect

The thing about loving someone you've felt like you've been in love with for almost forever is that the longer you're together, the faster time seems to move.

It's not in a sense that you're rushing through your life together, after all what's a day when it comes to forever, but in a way that chunks of time don't really look that big when compared to the whole picture.

For example: a week in LA to choreograph for Beyonce or the process of teaching Dylan how to walk or Santana becoming a three time Grammy winner, Quinn finally taking over The Coffee Shop because the owner was getting pretty damn old, Bella starting middle school, Bryce and Kenzie becoming girlfriends, all of that is nothing compared to what's to come.

Even something like pregnancy,

And I'm not talking about Santana's.

We hadn't really thought about expanding our family, well it has always been a lingering thought but we didn't do any serious thinking. I guess in a way it was all inevitable so when San and I decided to buy our first house together since the apartment was starting to get a little cramped, we knew it was time. Besides, San and I both grew up with a sibling and we wanted nothing more than to have our son grow up with the same.

Though Slobberz, the golden retriever San got us for Christmas a few years ago, could very well pass off as Dylan's brother with the way those two are always up to something. Dylan insisted on the name being that since Doggy wasn't cool enough. Also, when Santana came home to a pair of her new Jimmy Choo pumps ripped to shreds, she dubbed shortened Slobberz' name to SOB which stuck with Dyl too because he repeats everything we say. Santana thought it was hilarious, our son inadvertently calling the family pet an S.O.B, and every time I'd give her that I'm getting mad but you're still really hot look, she'd just shrug and say, "But Britt, Slobberz is the son of a bitch.." Then we'd laugh about it and try to get Dylan back to calling Slobberz by his real name and not a SOB.

After awhile, we decided that maybe Dylan would like an actual sibling and after an endless night of sweet lady kisses, coaxing each other into wanting it even though we both already did, we made the trip to Dr. Meyer's office.

We ended up using the same donor, that way Dylan and his future brother or sister were actually related, then surprisingly enough, after the first try, I was greeting Santana after she got home from work with a positive pregnancy test.

I didn't think I had ever seen my wife so happy, even her hugs were ten times tighter and her smile ten times brighter! I thought it was cute but when the happy tears turned into full on sobs, I knew that something else was up.

It was hard persuading Dylan that Mama was fine, just super happy, because he's such a worrisome sweetheart when it comes to his moms. After San refused telling me what was wrong though, she excused herself to her office to get herself together while Dyl just looked up at me with his big brown eyes before crawling into my lap and hiding his face in my chest, a habit that has stuck with him since he was a baby.

That night, Dylan helped me make dinner, because I actually learned how to cook a few things now without burning anything, and we both slipped into San's office to find her playing away at her Grand piano. The somber tune she was playing quickly turned into something upbeat for Dyl as he hopped around cutely hoping to get a chuckle out of San which he always does.

I whispered a quiet, "Dinner's ready," to which San smiled sweetly before plucking up our son and nodding to the door while cheering, "Let's eat!"

It wasn't until Dylan was sound asleep and we were curled up in bed that night that she finally let down the walls she still sometimes hides behind, saying things like how she prayed for this, for my pregnancy to work out, and hoped that I didn't have to go through the same pain of failing over and over again. I could've blamed it on the hormones, but I knew that the tears that leaked from my eyes were from hearing how scared she had been through everything. Santana doesn't pray, she rarely goes to church, so to hear that she would get down on her knees, hands clasped, and say what she needed to was something important.