I remember contemplating how odd that was, because we could explain a white baby to everyone else as a failure of my vasectomy, but a black baby would...be like a bomb going off socially.I fought these feelings off, to be strong for my beautiful, sexy, possibly pregnant lady. We both held our breath as we waited for the lines to settle and tell us the fate of her egg. As we waited, I lifted her chin with my hand, and stared into her eyes. I smiled and softly told her how much I loved her. She. Her muffled voicewas low and the other couldn't hear what she was saying. Her tonesounded serious at times, almost grim at others, but ended on a lighter,almost cheery, note. However, her facial expression deflated any growinghopes Martin had for a good resolution to the conversation."Well, was he mad?" Martin managed to say after a few moments, justafter his mother had sat down."Yes and no," she said. "Before you worry about your father, why don'tyou start at the beginning, since you remember. More

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