"No," I softly answer in utter disbelief.
Our heads almost touch as we kneel side-by-side on the floor staring at the bundle on the sofa.
"We have a baby," she smiles.
"We do."
The blanket around our daughter kicks and a soft squeal emulates like a happy sigh, "Aahhaaa ..."
"Do you believe we have a baby?" she asks, her eyes blazing now into mine.
"I don't."
"Me either," she grins.
Yet the physical embodiment of our love giggles, toothlessly grins with blazing blue eyes of her own, keeping us mesmerized and wondering what in the world were we thinking!
I read Millennials wait to have babies so we fit right in though in our case, we've both "Been there! Done that!" yet like Sarah and Abraham in the Bible, we had a baby way after conventional wisdom dictates.
But ours is the most unlikely of love stories anyway so the miracle of a baby born to the already father of three grown-ups and the mother of three pre-pubescent girls getting married shouldn't come as a surprise!
Before her girls were born, we'd worked together for a year. We were both recently married, she to another Northerner and me to a refugee from Alabama, had different cultures, expressions of faith, senses of humor and purposes in life.
Yet working together, the chemistry clicked and we made magic until she returns to Fundamentalist-Religion-Land in Houghton, New York while I seek refuge from a bad marriage in the Caribbean as much as possible.
Ten lonely years pass.
Out of nowhere she calls and, after impossible obstacles were overcome, we stood alone on the Beach one night after the fireworks and ... caged love erupted ... sandy kisses opened the first door.
It wasn't easy.
I was a drunkenly obstinate bachelor and she had three little girls to protect but ... by God's grace and stubbornness on both of our parts ... we somehow overcame.
Our love was like seeds we discovered in desperate need of the other but fragile and in danger of blowing apart by the winds of societal expectation and individual selfishness.
On the same beach we shared the first sandy kisses we married surrounded by the few who believed love's possible in spite of the odds.
Lots of family and friends didn't come.
It was okay ... we had each other.
Over the years, in retrospect, we've worked hard stripping away defense mechanisms, exploring our scars and giving space to grow and accept each other's quirks, craziness and differences.
"Can you believe it's been five years?" she asks after we put Che to bed.
"No," I reply lost in her blazing blue eyes.
"I can," she shoots.
"Yeah, well," I laugh. "I bet you can."
"Can you believe we have a baby?" she asks in the dark as we lay in bed.
"No."
"Me either."
And we fall asleep blanketed in more love than we've ever known.
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