by Taryn Steele
I can’t argue with that thought.
After ninety-five minutes of poking, prodding and a stress test Dr. Jordan finds me suitable to go home but on one condition, three day bed rest. I explained to him about only having one bathroom that is down stairs and can hanging out on the couch still be considered bed rest and he was fine with that and it was actually more suitable under the bathroom circumstances of less travel.
Now I just need to convince Jameson to let me do some quick grocery shopping on the way home so the house is stocked for me for the next three days. If I let him go alone he will come back with everything that we don’t need, like Oreos, Doritos and Sprite.
Are all men like that when it comes to grocery shopping, or just mine?
I CONVINCED MY MOTHER to tell me when she was planning the baby shower for. I pretty much had to beg her to not have it on a Sunday afternoon. More or less I had to write a five page report on the reasons why I wanted it on a Saturday instead. It didn’t matter that I was her only daughter and the party was for me. All that mattered was what she wanted, similar to my bridal shower.
Jameson has been doing his best to field all of the baby shower drama but I have heard enough to get my blood boiling. My mother is bitching and complaining because Marcie hasn’t offered to help in any way. Lily has been keeping me up to date on the drama but not to stress me out, just to keep me informed so I’m not blindsided by anything.
The latest that has me truly upset is Marcie’s calculated timing. She scheduled her foot surgery three days before the baby shower and told Jameson no one will drive her to the shower so he has to. That means I have to drive to it by myself. The shower is for both of us, not just me. Marcie has known for a good length of time about needing this foot surgery. I find the timing awfully convenient.
I’m feeling very fat and uncomfortable but I do my best to look cute for the shower and not a beached whale. I gained four pounds on my short bed rest and my weight has been continuously going up. My stomach isn’t just going outward but so are my hips. I have a strong nightly addiction to Nutter Bars. How many calories are in those things anyway? Chocolate and peanut butter with wafers, three-hundred calories? The convenience store not far from our house finally asked Jameson what his addiction to them was. He said four simple words to them, “my wife is pregnant.” He said one of the female employees there suggested buying large boxes instead of individually wrapped. She’s right, he should.
JAMESON LEFT TWENTY MINUTES ago to pick up Marcie for the baby shower. I’m trying to do something with my hair but I can’t stop sweating. It feels so stuffy in the house. It’s probably just my big, fat pregnant self. I decide to give up on my hair and get dressed. I treated myself to what I think is an adorable outfit that I could continue to wear. I found a pair of black, stretchy dress pants, a white sleeveless blouse matched with a black cardigan to go over it if my body temperature goes back and forth like the hormonal beast I am. For as big as I feel I think I will rock this outfit with my baby bump.
I find myself standing at my front door looking around to make sure I didn’t forget anything, then it dawns on me that all I have to bring is myself, and my purse which is already on my shoulder. I grab my keys from the dining room table and walk out the door. I’m ahead of schedule so I decide to treat myself to an iced coffee on my way in to the forty mile trip back to my home town where my mother is holding the baby shower.
The insane amount of busy Saturday traffic distracts me from the loneliness I’m feeling in the car. Jameson should be here with me. He should be driving so my huge stomach doesn’t keep nudging in to the steering wheel. I can’t move the seat back any further because my arms and legs are too damn short. The closer I get to town the more upset and frustrated I grow. I turn the music up hoping for it to drown out the thoughts in my head. I don’t even think Fergie and her humps can shake me from this shit.
I drive past the VFW where the baby shower is being held and head toward my parents house. My stomach is making frightening sounds and it feels like a roller coaster is happening in there. I’m not sure if I’m going to vomit or crap my pants. I step on the gas pedal a little harder. I need a bathroom now. I hope the house is unlocked, or at least that my dad is home. Either way I’ll find a way in. More than likely if my dad isn’t home I’m sure his side of the garage is unlocked or he left it wide open. I swear, he thinks just because he lives in a small town that no one will break in to the house. It happened to us once. An old friend of my brother’s ended up getting involved with the wrong crowd. He was at one point my brother’s best friend. He burglarized our house when we were gone on a Saturday night. We weren’t the only ones he did it to. It only happened that one time. Of course my father thinks it was a fluke incident because it was someone who knew us and was in a bad situation. So he has no issues leaving the house unlocked when he leaves. As I pull in to their driveway I see his side of the garage is open but no vehicle. In this case his carelessness is in my favor. I waddle through the garage, up the stairs and scurry in to the bathroom. I don’t know which end it’s going to come out from. I can feel beads of sweat forming on my forehead. I pause for a moment and turn toward the wood framed mirror on the wall. My cheeks are the perfect shade of rose red. I grab the hand towel that is sitting on top of the sink and use it to wipe the sweat off of my forehead. My stomach rumbles some more. I dart to the toilet, drop my pants, underwear and plop down. I pull the nearby wastebasket to me as a precaution.
Fifteen minutes later I find myself sitting in the car with the air conditioning on full blast, my head leaning back with my eyes closed. After scanning through all of the unknown radio stations I found one playing Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata. It’s calming me. I can feel my heartbeat no longer racing. I’ve come to the conclusion that I upset myself so much about not having Jameson here with me right now and all of the crap I’ve heard about this mess of a baby shower I made myself sick.
My cell phone rings, quickly snapping me out of my momentary Zen moment. I look at the screen and it says that it’s my mother calling. I silence the ringer and return to my relaxation. I just need a few more minutes to myself. I look at the clock and I’m not late. Just as I’m about to lay my head back again my phone chimes that I have a voicemail. I grunt loudly in frustration. I pick up my phone to hear what she has to say. I follow the prompts on my phone and then I hear nothing but a noisy background then my mother’s voice comes in to play.
“Hillary! Why aren’t you here yet? Everyone is waiting for you! Don’t you know what time it is? Hurry up!” She barks.
What the hell? Of course I know what time it is. I still have six minutes left, and only a three minute drive to get there, so I’m good.
I don’t bother returning her call. It’s pointless. She’s just going to yell at me and tell me how I’m embarrassing her by being late. I’ll be there in person for her to do it front of everyone in less than five minutes. She can wait.
When I pull in to the driveway of the VFW, I’m bouncing around in my car through the sand filled gravel. I start to recognize numerous vehicles as I look for my own spot to park in. No one thought to save a spot up front for the large, pregnant chick? I notice Marcie’s most recent purchase I heard about, a Toyota Tacoma. I swear that woman only did it because we were thinking about purchasing a newer vehicle before the baby arrived. Jameson swears my nesting is out of control. I told him I felt safer driving in a newer vehicle with the baby. We’ll see what happens in the next couple of weeks.
I finally find a spot to park in. I take a deep breath, and pull my visor down to check my make-up in the mirror. I touch up my lips with some mauve lip gloss for a little color. I grab my purse from the passenger seat and decide it’s now or never. Walking across the parking lot I remember the day of my bridal shower. It was pure torture. I hated being the center of attention. All of those people watching me open presents for what felt like eons. Jameson might have not driven with me but I am glad he’s here for the shower itself. I don’t think I could
handle sitting up there opening presents in front of everyone by myself again.
With my hand on the door handle I take one more quick breath to release my built up anxiety and push it open. There appears to be around fifty people in the room. No one even notices I walked in. I see my old friend Joleen from the campground my neighbors took me to when I was a teenager. She notices me first and I immediately erupt in to squealy-girlie voice and come at her with arms wide open to hug her. I know she had at least a two hour drive to come here. I had no idea she was invited but I am so thrilled she was. That’s the moment everyone finally notices my arrival. I guess squealing females can really grab people’s attention. I notice Jameson on the other side of the room with Marcie and the rest of his family. Marcie all but chains him to the table to keep him by her side. More friends and family approach me to say hello and rub my ever growing baby bump. I then see my mother approaching with a look of frustration written all over her face. Her normally blue eyes look beady and grey. Her nose and cheeks are a shade of rosy pink, and she’s coming right at me.
“Hillary, where have you been? We’re behind schedule because you’re late. I called you, ya know?”
“Hi mom, nice to see you too. I was sick to my stomach so I stopped at your house to use the bathroom, and if you’d bother to look at a clock I’m not late at all but thanks for the warm welcome.”
Before she has a chance to say anything else Lily and Karolyn quickly approach with warm welcomes and hugs rescuing me. They can see the look on my face and they know they arrived just in time and pull me over to the tables of food.
“Let’s get you fed before it’s time to open presents. There are a lot of them,” Karolyn tells me.
As I stand with Lily and Karolyn getting food Jameson comes to my side and gives me a kiss on the cheek. I give him a weak smile back and respond with a barely audible “hi.” I’m holding on to a bit of anger that he waited this long to come over to me. Is it childish of me to act this way? Maybe but I’m pregnant and super hormonal. I’m allowed these moments.
“What’s wrong?” He asks.
“Nothing. I’m fine,” I respond and try my best to attempt to pretend to carry on a conversation with Lily and Karolyn so I don’t have to continue this shit with Jameson.
He catches on like the smart man he is, and gives me the space I need. I follow Lily and Karolyn to a table to sit and eat with them. Friends and family continue to greet me as I eat but I don’t mind the interruption. It’s nice to see everyone take time out of their weekend to come here. Laughter erupts at the back of room that catches everyone’s attention and stares. It’s Marcie and the family. I’m glad they are having a good time; I just wish Jameson was spending more time visiting everyone here and not just his family. This shower is for him too. I just happen to be the ‘carrier.’
My belly is nice and full with baked ziti and fresh salad but I still want dessert. As I make my way over to the dessert table my mother approaches me, grabs me by the elbow and pulls me over to the gifts.
“This big bag here is my super exciting gift,” she tells me pointing to a very large, yellow gift bag with baby rattles on it.
I nod in response and return to the dessert table. Who pulls a pregnant lady away from dessert? That’s a dangerous move. I have a huge smile on my face when I see my favorite dessert, magic bars.
“I see you eye ballin’ my dessert.”
I turn sharply and hug our long-time family friend Jean with all of my might. She never fails me. She made sure I had these goodies at my bridal shower and here they are again.
“You are the best, ya know that?” I tell her with complete honesty.
We chat for a few minutes then my mother comes toward us while waving me to come to her. I excuse myself, at the same time my mother grabs my hand pulling me back towards the gift table. She points to a chair, tells me to sit because she wants me to start opening presents. I didn’t even get a chance to pee, or check the mirror to make sure I don’t have anything in my teeth before people start snapping pictures of me.
“Jameson! Jameson, get up here. It’s time to open presents,” my mother shouts from across the room. I breathe deep, still frustrated that he hasn’t left his mother’s side to visit with the other guests. I don’t know if it’s all of Marcie’s doing or Jameson’s own choice. I contemplate if I should ask him later. I’m afraid it might start a fight.
I look around the large room and I still don’t see Jameson’s cousin Amy. She knows we want her to be the Godmother and she’s still not here. I look to Lily and Karolyn with a plea for help. Without uttering a word they can see no one is up here sitting with Jameson and myself to take the wrapping paper or write down who got us what gift. They both jump in to action. Karolyn is at the table ready to hand us gifts while Lily is collecting paper and a pen.
My mother sits directly in front of us, chatting away in between presents, snapping pictures and repeatedly motioning to Karolyn to give us her big gift. I lean back to face Karolyn and motion for her to hand me the big bag from my mother. She plops the bag on the floor in between Jameson and me. I read the tiny square card attached the string on the bag to let the guests know the gift is from my mother. I look up to make sure everyone could hear me, and I notice that no one from Jameson’s family is even paying attention. I’m hoping Jameson doesn’t notice. On second thought, maybe I should hope he does, I wonder. I pull a few pieces of tissue paper out of the bag to see what is inside. As I look in to the bag I see a pair of baby, blue jean overalls. I pull it out and see a string is attached to it, which is attached to another outfit, and another.
“Stand up! Stand up!” My mother shouts. I don’t want to stand up. Why do I have to stand up? Jameson stands up and motions for me to start walking to my left so he can pull the rest of the outfits out. I stand almost at the front door entrance when it swings open and in walks Jameson’s cousin Amy.
“Oh, hi. Sorry I’m late,” she whispers and hands me an envelope. The Michaels family table in the corner bursts out in cheers waving to Amy to come over as everyone stares at their outburst. I walk back toward Jameson as he slowly puts the attached clothes on a line back in to the bag. I look to my mother and thank her as she snaps one more picture. She drops her hands to her lap, drops her jaw and rolls her eyes.
“Seriously? That’s it?” She says to me.
I don’t know what she means by that. I look at her with confusion clearly written all over my face.
“What do you mean?” I ask her.
“You could have been a little more excited or appreciative of the gift.”
“I smiled and said thank you,” I tell her. What more does she want from me? A dance? To stand on a chair and declare how elated I am by the multiple outfits? Am I supposed to be more thankful to her than everyone else whose gifts we’ve already opened?
She abruptly stands up from her chair, huffs at me in disgust with tears trickling down her face and storms off towards the back of the room. I am one hundred percent embarrassed. I turn to Lily, her eyes wide in shock. Everyone watches my mother’s theatrical exit to the back of the room. Karolyn quickly hands me another present to open to divert the attention my mother so desperately wanted. I look back at the table and see that there are only a few more left. As much as I am loving all of these gracious gifts I have to pee really bad. I’ve been sucking down punch from the punch bowl like it’s going out of style.
Ten minutes later, the last few gifts have been opened. Jameson and I stand up to thank everyone in the room for coming to spend the afternoon with us and the wonderful gifts for the baby. We were asked multiple times what name we’ve chosen but our lips are sealed, for the time being. I know I’m going to spill the beans to Lily and Karolyn any day now.
As I stand in the same spot people approach me, hug me, wish me well with the delivery and all I can see out of my peripheral vision is my mother still being dramatic at the back of the room. I look to the other side of the back of the room and I see Jameson’s
family still there but now they are grabbing their belongings as if getting ready to leave. I see Marcie wave Jameson towards her but he doesn’t notice. To avoid having her shout across the room I elbow him in the side and tip my head towards her so he can see.
More people approach as they depart congratulating me, rubbing my belly and wishing me luck on my delivery. I see Jameson’s family walking from the table making their way towards me but I notice Marcie attempts to exit the opposite way. Jameson’s aunts and cousins squeeze me tight, wish me well and tell me they had a nice time. I want to believe them but why were they off in their own little world the entire time the shower was happening? They didn’t even watch me open presents. Well, whatever I guess. If you had a good time then that’s fine by me. Right?
“Hillary is Marcie seriously trying to sneak out with saying anything to you?” Karolyn asks.
“You should run up on her and make her feel like such an ass.” Lily snarks.
“She can’t leave without Jameson. She made him drive her because of her conveniently scheduled foot surgery.” I tell them.
“I’m going over there to throw some unease her way for being so damn rude.” Karolyn tells me, and takes off before I can argue.
Lily instantly starts laughing. I turn my back on the room before I can be accused of being part of God knows what is about to go down. I look at the massive amount of gifts covering the two eight foot long tables in front of me and wonder how I’m going to get all of this home.
“What was up with your mom’s dramatic scene earlier?” Lily asks pulling me from my gift packing plan. “Now I know what you’ve been talking about all of these years with her emotional outbursts and the need to be the center of attention. I think she needs some Xanax and a reality check.”
She doesn’t need to tell me. I already know that. I’ve lived it.
“Let’s get your car packed up, yes?” Karolyn suggests as she simultaneously scares the crap out of us.