The call came on a Tuesday afternoon. Bree’s mother started to cry: “Your son got my daughter pregnant!” I remember staring at the sink like the world had tilted sideways. My first thought was panic. My second was anger. Teenagers make mistakes. I was ready to handle a mistake.
That night Ethan sat across from us at the kitchen table. His hands weren’t shaking. His voice wasn’t breaking. That scared me more than if he’d been sobbing. I asked him straight. “Was this an accident?” He looked at me and said, “No, mom” My husband leaned forward. “Explain!” “You planned this?”
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