I’ve never been good at giving news. I wanted to be a journalist in college, but I kept crying when I listened to NPR, so I chose comedy instead.
With that in mind, it was a Saturday night, and I had just picked my then-boyfriend Gabe up for our hot date: feeding spaghetti to the unhoused. He gave me the classic awkward car hug and kissed me. He told me his sister just had her first baby. Seeing this as the perfect segue, I told him I, too, was having a baby except I wasn’t keeping mine. He blinked at me.
So I did what any woman of a certain generation might do in this situation. I played him Enya’s greatest hit, “Only Time.”
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