50: Spidey Senses

50: Spidey Senses

From Chicken Soup for the Soul: Angels and Miracles

Spidey Senses

Brothers are like streetlights along the road; they don’t make distance any shorter but they light up the path and make the walk worthwhile.

~Author Unknown

It was the morning of our seventh wedding anniversary, and my husband and I were ecstatic. I had just taken a pregnancy test, and the results were positive!

A few months earlier, my fertility specialist had gravely stated that, after a year of failed treatment, I “should not expect to be a biological mother.”

We decided not to tell anyone until we were sure there was no chance of losing the baby. My first pregnancy had ended in an unexpected miscarriage that required emergency surgery, leaving us devastated. As happy as we were, we decided to exercise caution.

Just then, the phone rang. It was my youngest brother, Wade. Wade and I were very close and spoke regularly. Our two older brothers affectionately referred to us as “The Witch Mountain Twins,” likening us to the stars of the Disney film because of the way our thoughts seemed connected. Wade and I had always joked that we had “spidey senses.” Knowing this, my husband immediately said, “Don’t tell . . . not even Wade.”

I answered the phone as normally as I could. It was Sunday, and Wade was confirming plans we had to meet up the following Saturday. After a few minutes of casual conversation, Wade became serious and said, “Can I ask you something kind of personal?’ I laughed and replied sure.

Wade lowered his voice and asked, “Are you pregnant?”

I paused and answered truthfully, “According to Dr. Gill, no . . . maybe not ever. Why?”

Wade continued, “This is going to sound crazy. I have had this feeling all morning. It’s almost like I’m remembering a dream, only I didn’t dream it. I’m sitting here, drinking coffee, and it’s like I just know it.”

“Know what?” I asked.

“That our spidey senses are changing. You know . . . that thing we do. Don’t get me wrong. It’s not that we won’t be close anymore, but more like some of that ability is being transferred to a child. Your child. I feel like you’re going to have a baby soon. This sounds crazy, but I just know you are. Are you sure you’re not pregnant?”

I was astonished. The moment I learned I was pregnant, Wade knew.

I had promised my husband I wouldn’t tell. So I replied, “Wade, I’d love for that to be true. But I’ve just spent hundreds of dollars for the top fertility specialist in Houston to tell me — in his words — that I shouldn’t expect to have kids. Let’s just leave it at that.”

Wade replied in a voice of absolute certainty, “Well, they’re wrong.”

Four months later, we announced we were pregnant with a baby girl. Before I told Wade, I asked him if he remembered our conversation from that day in October. He did. So it was no surprise when I told him I was pregnant that he simply replied, “I knew. But I was going to let you tell me when you were ready.”

I gave birth to a beautiful baby girl five months later. And now that five years have passed, I often think about the words my brother spoke to me that day, about our “ability” transferring to a child. Wade and I still have a special bond, but like he said, it is different now. And some days, when my daughter looks at me with her beautiful, soulful blue eyes, I wonder if his prediction has already come true.

~Jolie Lisenby

More stories from our partners