The Parent Trip: Heather Persons and Nate Persons of Harleysville

THE PARENTS: Heather Persons, 29, and Nate Persons, 32, of Harleysville

THEIR SON: Cameron Thomas Persons

Ask Heather and Nate how long it took to have their son, Cameron, and they will answer with type-A precision: Eight years, nine months, one week, and 35 hours.

Or you could count the time like this: seven addresses (including two houses), two undergraduate degrees, one teaching certificate, one MBA-in-progress, and a slowly growing sense that they might finally be ready to become parents.

They were sweethearts at Pennridge High School in Perkasie: two ambitious teens who waited tables and washed dishes in local restaurants when they weren't studying or, in Nate's case, playing serious golf. Heather skipped her senior year to take classes at Bucks County Community College across the street. "I wanted to move on with life," she recalls.

But she also knew, even after the couple married in 2005 - Heather was 20 and Nate 23 - that she wasn't ready for motherhood. Both of them had cared for younger siblings and knew that parenting was a 24/7 undertaking. Besides, "we had a lot of goals we wanted to get accomplished first," Heather says.

That list included owning a home. Heather's family moved frequently when she was growing up; she hopped from school to school in five districts. And as young adults, she and Nate lived in a series of apartments - including their first home together, a chilly one-bedroom in Albany, N.Y. - vacating every time Heather got restless or the lease was up.

They bought a house in Oaks, then sold it when developers broke ground for a shopping center that was practically in their backyard. Heather thought about going to law school, but worried that the high-octane life of an attorney wouldn't be compatible with her eventual parenting. Instead, she earned her teaching certificate at West Chester University. Nate, meanwhile, worked at Vanguard and enrolled at Temple University for a master's degree in business administration.

All the while, they watched other people their age start families. "When my best friend told me she was pregnant with her first, I was really jealous," Heather recalls. "I knew our friendship would change." At the same time, she and Nate relished the perks that come with being aunt and uncle; they brought Christmas presents to their nieces and nephews, and shepherded them to Sesame Place - and returned them to their parents at the end of the day.

About a year ago, Heather began to think the time was right. They had moved into their current house - one they designed with kids in mind, down to the placement of electrical outlets and open sight lines from the kitchen to the living room - in January 2013. Nate could see light at the end of the MBA tunnel.

That summer, the couple took off for Jamaica, a vacation they figured would be their last kid-free romp for a while. The resort was comfortable, the pool and ocean enticing, but they felt a little . . . bored. "We were relaxed. But at the same time, kind of empty," Heather remembers. "We found ourselves looking at each other, wanting a little bit more," Nate says. "We thought we were missing out on some family fun."

After nine years of marriage and not a single "oops," Heather wondered whether they would be able to become pregnant. The first attempt was unsuccessful. They were trying to time their conception so Heather wouldn't have to endure a sticky summer while in her last trimester. The second month, Heather used an ovulation predictor kit and "we hit the jackpot." Finally, she could put an end to her mother's constant barrage of questions: "When are you two going to have kids? Are you pregnant and not telling me?"

When Heather and Nate shared the news, both their mothers cried. Nate's father, in an uncommon moment of candor, said, "To be honest, I never thought you were going to have kids." Their siblings, they said, "were in shock." Heather's 73-year-old grandmother rejoiced that she'd be able to meet a great-grandbaby.

Heather and Nate had been accumulating a list of baby names for eight years, ever since Heather heard someone say "Parker" in an apartment leasing office and took mental note of it as a great boy's name; "Mackenzie," for a girl, was also on the list. But they realized that the future "Parker Persons" would likely be teased for having the initials "P.P."

"We went through the list of names and figured out all the ways kids could change them to make fun of them, and what the initials stood for, how the name rolled off the tongue. I was stuck on names with a hard C or K sound, or an M," Heather says. "Cameron Thomas," the middle name shared with both Nate and his father, seemed taunt-proof.

These days, Heather has traded her job as a long-term substitute teacher for that of full-time mother. Nate is a trader at Vanguard and attends graduate school at Temple three nights a week; those days, he's gone from 6 a.m. to 10 p.m. There are no more movie-and-restaurant dates on their docket - unless the restaurant has outdoor seating and a high tolerance for squawking babies.

Both are glad they waited to become parents. "We can give him a better life than we could have six or seven years ago," Nate says.

"We're lucky we found each other so young," Heather says. "We had all those years, and we knew each other really well. We were ready." That's not to say she doesn't miss some elements of the kid-free life - such as the ability to run out and get her nails done on a moment's impulse - but there are other compensations.

Recently, Heather had been reading about infants' starting to belly-laugh around two months, but they hadn't been able to coax a chortle from Cameron. Then they found it - a ticklish spot on the right side of his neck - and the giggles tumbled out.

"There's nothing," Nate says, "to replace that feeling."

If you've become a parent - for the first, second or fifth time - within the last six months, e-mail us why we should feature your story: parents@phillynews.com.

(Giving birth, adopting, or becoming a stepparent or guardian all count.) Unfortunately, we can't respond individually to all submissions If your story is chosen, you will be contacted.EndText