Red Side of the Moon

XIII

A few years had gone by and life was seemingly perfect.  I was top of my class and my program, Phil and I were closer than ever, and our wedding plans were coming together quite seamlessly. Out of nowhere, one afternoon, we were relaxing on the couch, and he uttered something terrifying.

"We should have a kid," Phil said.
"What?" I chuckled.
"We should have a kid," he repeated.
"Some laws of biology would have to be broken."
"No, I mean get a surrogate, you idiot," he smirked. "We don't need to be married or anything. We just need our sperm and a girl who's willing to do it."
"Wait, you're being serious?"
"Why wouldn't I be?"
"Because I'm only twenty-one... I-I don't even have a full time job yet."
"Yeah, so? I do! I make enough to support us."
"I don't know..."
"I'll make a deal with you," he said.
"Okay..."
"We find a girl who's willing to do it, we each put in a little bit of our swimmers, and if they turn into zygotes, then it was meant to be. If they don't, well, then it's not the time for them. Does that sound fair?"
"So let fate decide?"
"Yeah, exactly," he smirked.
"Deal."

***

Over the next couple of months we set out to find a surrogate, and eventually, we got one. We each submitted some sperm samples and hoped for the best. About a month later, we got a call regarding the whole pregnancy situation. Our surrogate, Nicole, was officially with child—I was going to be a fucking dad at twenty-one years old...

Many months passed before Nicole unfortunately went into labor prematurely. She was just about to hit the eight month mark before she was rushed to the hospital in the middle of the night. Phil and I got the call the following morning and met her in her room—luckily she wasn't too far along.

Phil and I stuck around in the waiting room for a while since we didn't want to crowd the poor girl. After another five or six hours, her nurse came and found us. We rushed into the room and stood at Nicole's side. After another hour or so, she gave birth to the world most beautiful baby girl.

Thankfully, she weighed a little over six pounds, so she didn't have to stay in the hospital any longer than she needed to. Phil and I fought on what to name her for several days... we eventually decided on Luna Grace Lester-Howell.

She was a stunning baby, probably the most beautiful one I've ever seen. She had wavy strawberry blonde hair, hazel eyes, and milky white skin. She had this birthmark that on the bottom of her left cheek that subtly made its way down to the top of her neck.

One afternoon, about a week after we took her home, Phil and I were relaxing on the couch. My head was on his lap as his legs were kicked up in the shitty ottoman. We were both watching our baby girl intently as she slept in her swing.

I no longer cared that I was a young dad... I was a dad and I was fucking proud. I loved my little girl and I would do everything in my power to keep her safe.

Phil eventually tore my attention away from my thoughts. He started running his hands through my hair and flashed me one of his smiles. I lazily rolled over and looked up to him.

"Yes, my love?" I teased.
"Have you told your parents yet?"
"About what?"
"Luna, you dumbass," he chuckled.
"Oh, no... not yet..."
"Don't you think you should tell them?"
"I mean... probably."
"Also, honey, don't forget that my parents are coming over later today to meet the baby."
"Yeah, yeah, I remember. Speaking of, I should probably go get ready."
"Why so early?"
"Because in approximately ten minutes, our little moon will turn into a screaming ball of sunshine."
"You have a point," Phil sighed. "This parent thing is a lot harder than I thought it would be."

And just like that, Luna started crying. I cracked a smile and ran off to our room. Phil shook his head as he laughed and got off the couch. He carefully picked up the baby girl and went to the kitchen to feed her. A few minutes later, we heard knocking on the front door.