1. Daniel

1

DANIEL

A nsel's pregnancy is different from mine. We spend much of the first two months in the bathroom because he throws up constantly. Instead of gaining weight, he loses it. And my poor vechnyy led doesn't have any weight to lose. The doctors are just about to put in a feeding tube when the nausea subsides and is replaced with something else entirely—a craving for the bizarrest combination of foods.

I come home from work to find him at the table with a pint of Ben and Jerry's.

"You'll spoil your dinner," I say, before I can help myself.

He grins at me in a mischievous way that never fails to make me hard. "I'm sorry, Daddy."

He's not sorry at all. I'll have to take him over my knee.

I notice a small plate next to the ice cream. There's a pickle on it. He picks it up and takes a bite.

"Are you eating a pickle with the ice cream?"

"Yes. Don't judge."

I need to make him something healthy. Ice cream and pickles are not dinner. I head into the bedroom to put my apron away and get changed out of my work clothes when I notice several pairs of lacy underwear carefully lined up at the foot of the bed. I bend over to pick one up then I stop myself.

Is this the beginning of my vechnyy led 's nest?

"Ansel!" I call out.

"Yes!"

"Come here!"

It takes him a little longer to walk around these days, but he finally appears in the doorway of our bedroom. "You want to mess around before dinner?" he asks with that same mischievous glint.

"What are these?" I point to the line of underwear.

"Oh. I thought they looked nice there. Don't you think so? I wore that one on our first date, and that one on our second. This is the one I was wearing the first time you gave me oral and you were trying to swallow my dick like a snack. The third one I like because it's pretty."

Yep. Ansel's collecting lingerie for his nest. I collected oranges. I'd read somewhere that they promoted egg health, so I gathered them in little bags all around my bed, rotating them when they started to go bad. Ivan tolerated it, but I did catch him eating an orange from my nest once. It was one of the few times I lost my temper with him.

Every day I find a new scarf or corset set added to his collection. Some of the pieces I've seen him wear before, but some of them look new. All of the new pieces are by the same designer—Armani.

I can't think about how much this nest is costing us. I just try to avoid touching it when I get out of bed every morning and nod supportively every time he shows me a new piece. I'm aware of how important a nest is when giving birth to eggs. I just hope some of this stuff can be returned later. The pile of clothing grows day by day. Some of the clothes are clearly small enough for a baby: little white rompers, onesies, and sweaters. However, the shirt that says, "Daddy's Lil' Monster" is an adult size.

I just have to hope that Lewis and Todd don't come in our bedroom because it's displayed quite prominently by my side of the bed.

Just when I think we're going to have to open a second clothing store to sell all of Ansel's nest after he has the eggs, I come home to find him sprawled out on our bed, completely naked except for a voluminous white faux fur coat. His cute baby bump pops out of the center and it's completely coated in gold glitter.

He sighs happily. "I feel so fabulous right now. Like a pregnant jewel. I have glitter for the pillows too. I think having more pillows would be nice, don't you? With glitter. Gold glitter."

If he's asking for more pillows, that can only mean one thing.

"I'll call someone to bring you pillows. Stay right here, okay?" I say, trying to keep my voice level, despite my excitement.

He rubs his sparkling belly. "We should decorate our eggs. Like Easter eggs. We can paint little designs on them to help them feel fancy. I always like feeling fancy, don't you? I think we should help our eggs feel fancy. With glitter."

I highly doubt our babies will even know their eggs have been painted, but I know better than to try to get him to see logic right now.

As I walk into the other room to call Lewis, I'm surprised by how calm I feel. The thing no one ever talks about is that miscarriage and birth aren't that different if you've been pregnant long enough. But seeing Ansel lay sprawled out on our bed covered in glitter feels nothing like my last miscarriage. This isn't just a birth to him. It's a celebration.

I pull up Lewis's contact information and hit the call button. He picks up on the second ring.

"Hey, Dad. How are things going? You ready for the big day?"

"Ansel needs more pillows."

Lewis laughs. "Yeah? How many pillows does he want?"

In the background, I hear Todd say, "Has he started talking about a pillow man yet?"

"Stop," Lewis calls back to him, but there's a smile in his voice. The two of them are sleep deprived from new parenthood, and they're still joking around with each other. That's a wonderful sign.

"Not yet. But he's started spreading glitter over everything."

"That sounds like something Ansel would do."

Yeah. It does. I smile.

"I'll bring over a dozen pillows, then? Will that do it?" Lewis asks.

"That sounds good."

"Congratulations, Dad. I can't wait to see the eggs."

Someday I'll explain to my son that he has siblings he never got to meet. And on that day, I'll explain to him what today really means to me. I'm excited to have children with Ansel, but I'm also excited to simply have another child. There were some dreams I gave up on long ago, and Ansel has awoken hope in places I never thought I'd experience again.

"Lewis, will you also bring more body glitter? Gold, if you can find it."

If my vechnyy led wants to feel fancy, I'll make sure he has all the glitter he could ever want.