“I think we should have a baby.”

Noah whispered softly into the back of Sierra’s neck as they laid in bed on a lazy weekend morning. Sierra took his hand off her hips and pulled it tightly around her waist, snuggling back into him.

“Sounds like a plan, sweetie. We’ll get right on that.”

Noah waited a moment.

“I’m serious,” he finally said. “I think we should have a baby.”

Sierra’s body tensed under his embrace. She slowly unwrapped his arm from around her and turned to face him. “Honey,” she began. “I say this with all of the love and affection I can muster at 7am on a Saturday, but…what the fuck are you talking about?”

Noah rolled his eyes. “Oh, come on, don’t act like you’ve never thought about it. It seems like every time we listen to the news, there’s another story about another couple getting uncapped.”

“Well, yes,” Sierra responded, “but that’s because those people are out of their goddamn minds.” She sat up and rubbed her eyes. “This is a fantasy, right? We’re not actually having this conversation, are we?”

“Why not?” Noah replied a bit more sharply than he had intended. Then he caught himself. This wasn’t going how he had planned. He took a breath, pulled himself towards his wife, and took both of her hands in his. “I want a family. With you. I want us to make a baby, and watch it grow up, and teach it piano. This isn’t so crazy, is it?”

“Wanting those things? No, not crazy. But being foolish enough to actually pursue them? Yeah, a bit crazy.” She stood up and started to get dressed.

Noah sank back into bed and covered his face with his hands. “Come on, babe, don’t huff off like that. We’re married. We love each other. We can talk about important things without it turning into a fight, can’t we? I just wanted to start the conversation. Please, don’t be mad.”

Sierra found her house slippers and tied her silk robe. “Really? Don’t be mad? You just woke me up by announcing that you want to die. That you want me to die. And I’m supposed to find that…romantic, or something? Well pardon me for not swooning.”

Noah’s resolve eroded in the face of her withering look. “Jesus Christ,” he replied. “Don’t be so fucking dramatic. Of course I don’t want us to die. But guess what — sooner or later, we will! You could get hit by a bus tomorrow.”

Sierra laughed derisively. “Okay, sure. We’re both going to die,” she replied. “But you seem a bit more welcoming of the prospect than I am.”

◊ ◊ ◊

Weeks went by. Sierra’s anger faded away and was slowly, eventually, replaced by something that surprised her — something more contemplative. She started to wonder whether it really was so crazy to trade in the sort of life she had for the chance to have a family. And as the days passed, she thought more and more about what it would feel like to be pregnant — to grow life inside of her — and she found herself wondering whether their child would have her eyes, or Noah’s chin.

It was the timing, really. If the discussion with Noah had happened …