M. Keith DeVilling

From Paris With Love

Sunday, March 27, 2014, Easter morning. Stephanie surprised me with an Easter basket just like she always does for our children. Nestled into the fake, plastic grass in my little basket, under the Reese's Pieces, under the little foil-wrapped chocolate footballs, was a home pregnancy test. It read positive! Her thoughtfulness and cleverness never fails to put mine to shame. It was a wonderful way to learn of our second child’s arrival. Over the next few days, or maybe weeks, we troubled over when and how we wanted to inform our loved ones of the news. We knew we wanted to stick with the philosophy we followed for our first child; we would wait until the second trimester and the “all looks healthy” nod from her doctor. The problem was, we were booked to be in Europe at the time of her next check-up. We arranged with the doctor to be seen right before we left for London, only about two week’s difference. This would give us the assurance we desired to prudently make the announcement. And over the next few months, we brainstormed inventive ways to reveal the news to the world. At one point we thought we’d just tell our respective parents over Skype from one of the countries we’d be in. That idea seemed too lazy and lame to both of us, so we scrapped it and determined to keep thinking. On the flight across the pond, I was giving the matter much thought, then I said, “It has to be Paris.” She readily agreed. But how? What method? With us on this trip were about 30 teenaged students plus some of their parents who all knew Stephanie and adored her like a favorite aunt. She was an International Baccalaureate English teacher at their high school, and the majority of them were students in the IB program. She is now the program coordinator. Each of them was emotionally invested to some degree in her well-being and our relationship as well, some heavily, others only slightly less so. We are still very close to a few of them and their parents to this day.