I laughed and said, “Come on in and just place the tray on the table.”

Smiling, she said, “Oui misure!”

Looking at her standing there, eight months pregnant, wearing her little apron while she played her best French maid routine, I felt a tremendous love for her and for our unborn child Layla. With tears welling in my eyes, I said, “Come over here, honey. The most unbelievable thing has happened, and I don’t even know what it means.”

Maggie, placing the tray on the table, sat down on the edge of the bed and snuggling next to me she said, “Tell me baby, tell me what happened.”

“I don’t know how to start,” I said as I struggled to find the courage to share the story of my journey.

“Jim, it’s okay. I had a journey with Mama too,” Maggie confessed.

“You did? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Mama said to wait until she guided you on yours.”

“Guided me, is that what she did?” I said.

“Yes, tell me what happened, honey. It’s okay.”