I don't remember how it happened. But somehow, as a senior in high school, I became the mother of Steve's baby.
His egg baby, that is.
We were taking the required Family Relations class that spring--a generally fun and easy (and even somewhat informative) class that brought the seniors back together at the end of our high school years. Everyone had to pair up and assume responsibility for an egg baby for a couple of days, and I vaguely remember thinking how great it would be to have Steve as my partner (I was gone over him by this time, though we wouldn't start dating for another three years). We were close friends, and at least once a week, someone was either asking me if we were dating or telling me we should be, so it seemed (to me) only natural that we'd co-parent an egg baby. But I can't recall the details of how we actually became partners. He must have suggested it--I never would have had the nerve. Which means I probably then over-analyzed his suggestion, and ran with the idea that we were parents! together! meaning, like a married couple! (Never mind that it was an egg.)
But I digress. I was absent the day the eggs were actually passed out, which meant Dad was in charge. That's how our baby got the name "Steve Junior," and also why he promptly died that afternoon.
Steve had picked up our baby from "daycare" (Mrs. Widmer's classroom, where the babies stayed during the day while we were in school) and was carrying him up the steps to go home. He turned his wrist to look at his watch--apparently not realizing that the egg was in that hand, or that the turning motion would flip the egg out of its container. SPLAT went Steve Junior, all over the stairs, right in front of Mrs. Widmer. Thankfully she was gracious enough to give Steve a replacement egg rather than failing us on the project. (She was pretty cool.)
All that to say, I think maybe it's a good thing that this time around, I'm the one carrying the baby--at least until August. After that, I'm sure Steve will be much more responsible than he was with the egg. (And no, if it's a boy, we will not be naming him Steve Junior.)