by Taryn Steele
“Where the hell did you come from?” Lily barks at her.
“From over there, making Marcie feel like a piece of shit for complaining to Jameson about wanting to go home. I just kindly suggested that she get a ride from her family since this was a party for him and how rude it would for him to leave his wife here to take care of everything since she already had to come here alone.”
“Oh-My-Fucking-God. Did you seriously say that?” I ask.
“Hell yes I did!”
I love this girl so much.
“If I can’t fit everything in my car will you guys take some stuff? I don’t want anything getting packed in her truck, it smells like a dirty ash tray from her chain smoking. Jameson and I haven’t touched one cigarette since we found out about the baby.”
“Of course.” Lily and Karolyn respond as one.
Forty-five minutes later my car is packed from top to bottom, and front to back with baby gifts. Karolyn and Lily have some gifts in their car as well. I can’t help but feel even lonelier driving home from the baby shower than when I did driving to it. This is the time where Jameson and I should be talking about everyone that came, the food, the gifts we got and everything in between. Here I am, exhausted and alone again, driving myself home. It shouldn’t be this way.
IS IT BAD THAT I DON’T want to go to this Lamaze class tonight? Big Brother is on at eight o’clock and the class doesn’t end until eight o’clock. We have a thirty minute drive. It’s eviction night. Doesn’t the hospital know that? Jameson is obsessed with Janelle’s hot blonde looks, and I love Mike “Boogie.” He’s a great game player. Damn, why does it have to be tonight?
Class starts at seven. Jameson and I made sure we left the house early enough in case of traffic issues. I don’t want to be the late person on the first day of class. Once we find a parking spot, make our way through the main entrance of the hospital we notice a large sign by the information desk welcoming new parents to class tonight. It tells us to use the elevators to the right and go to the third floor. As we round the corner to the elevators we see a man and a pregnant woman waiting there as well. We smile at each other and say ‘hi’. The ride up to the third floor is brief and quiet. We exit and the four of us follow the signs to the class. We enter a room with what looks like thirty chairs aligned in to a circle. The room is empty. The other couple jokes about being the dorks who get to class first. I take that as their way of breaking the awkward ice so I introduce Jameson and myself. Mike and Rosie couldn’t be any more than a few years older than us and only live about ten or fifteen miles away from us. Four short minutes in to our conversation more people begin to pile in. As if we were back in high school we quickly grab seats next to Mike and Rosie.
There is a diverse group of people in the class. If I had to be completely judgmental by looks and the brief introductions I would have to say that Jameson and myself, along with Mike and Rosie are the average to normal couples. The couple directly across from us are Donny and Debbie. They appear to be in their early twenties and look as if they just came in from Martha’s Vineyard. Very preppy. To our immediate left are Brooke and Cody, also very young looking but complete opposite from Donny and Debbie. Brooke and Cody look as though they spent the day at Starbucks and Hot Topic. Grungy clothes, piercings and tattoos and clearly madly in love with each other. If Cody isn’t holding Brooke’s hand he’s rubbing her belly. I love it. Melanie and Tom are very aged. She told the class she just turned forty-four and was told she could never have children. This was a bit of a surprise for them. She’s nervous because of her age. She knows she has more risks but they are excited. I’m happy for them. I hope it all works out. I can’t help but keep my eyes on the couple next to Donny and Debbie. Sarah and Travis are close in age to Jameson and myself but aren’t due for much longer than the rest of the class. She’s not even showing, while the rest of us are about to burst. I’m not really sure why they are taking this class so soon.
The class wasn’t what I expected. We didn’t really learn anything today but I expected that. The instructor gave us a break down of what the next few weeks would be like, and other classes she offers. I was happy to hear that class isn’t just about breathing during labor. She will also be teaching us about bathing our newborn, swaddling, and making sure the men know how to properly change a diaper. I can now say that I am actually looking forward to the next class.
I’M TRYING TO IGNORE MARIANNE who is currently on the phone with her sister talking about the Big Brother episode we missed last night. I went all out toddler temper tantrum, put my hands over my ears and yelled “la-la-la-la-la-la” but she just laughed at me. Jameson took today off to put the crib together since it was being delivered early in the morning. I could always call him and bother him to distract me. Marianne can’t talk forever. We have a mandatory staff meeting in fifteen minutes. I just need a minor distraction. I call the house, it rings and rings but no answer. The machine doesn’t even pick up which means he must be on the other line. I give up on the idea of being distracted from Marianne’s plan to torture me with Big Brother talk so I grab my notepad, pen and cell phone and go in to the break room to get a drink and snack before the meeting. I don’t get far when my phone starts buzzing and I see that Jameson is calling me back.
“Hey. I just called the house but the machine didn’t pick up.”
“Yeah, Ma told me you were calling. She was on the phone checking her messages.”
“Umm, your mom is there?”
“Yeah, she just kind of showed up knocking on the door. Said she was bored and saw that I was home so she’s assisting with putting the crib together.”
“Well I guess I’m lucky I wasn’t in labor since she wouldn’t hang up the phone to let my call go through.”
“I’m sorry. I wasn’t in the room at the time.”
I can hear Marcie rambling in the background but I can’t be certain of what she said.
“Jameson, did I just hear your mother say the baby’s room looks like gross pea soup?”
“Babe, I’m one room away and I’m not paying attention. I’m talking to you remember? So tell me what you wanted to talk about when you called.”
“Honestly, I don’t even remember. I have a meeting in a few minutes so I should go anyway. I’ll see you when I get home.”
I feel bad but I didn’t wait for him to respond back. I just ended the call. I know it’s not his fault Marcie is there. Ever since we moved in she has ‘just happened to be in the area’ what feels like millions of times. He’s not a dick. He wouldn’t not answer the door, or not invite her in. As much as my own mother irritates me I couldn’t do that either. I grab the edge of the counter top and take a few deep breaths to calm myself. There is no sense in getting worked up over it, stressing myself and the baby out. There is nothing I can do about it. I force myself to think positive. Maybe she will be of some help to Jameson to get the crib put together. I’m not the one there listening to her insults about the paint color in the nursery. I’m not the one stuck there with her.
The sound of heavy boots stomping on the linoleum snap me from my attempted Zen moment. I turn and see Bernie coming in from the warehouse making his way to the sink with his coffee mug.
“Hey momma to be. You okay?”
“Hey Bernie. Yeah, I’m alright. Just trying to stay stress free but I tend to let the little things like my mother in law get to me,” I admit.
“Let me tell you something young lady. I am forty-seven years old. I have two kids, one ex-wife and I am happy about no longer having a mother in law. She did not like me one bit. I mean look at me. I am an old time rock and roller. I refuse to get rid of my long, curly hair but since I’ve gotten rid of her the gray no longer sneaks through the dark black. I wear my band t-shirts everyday that she insisted I change out of when I was at her house because it wasn’t appropriate for Sunday dinner. I let her get to me and she knew it. That was my biggest mistake. Don’t let your mother in law know she’s getting to you because she wi
ll never stop.”
“Thanks for the advice Bernie.”
“All I can say kiddo is that not all mother in laws are the same but yours sounds like one of those top notch evil ones. Mother in laws like her, even if you give them everything they ask for, it’s never enough.”
He’s right. No matter how many times I give in and give her what she wants its never enough for her. What happens when the baby comes? Will it get worse or get better? I don’t think I can handle worse. I’m afraid to think about what worse things she could say or do to me, to us. I shake the frightening thoughts from my head and make my way to the conference room for the mandatory meeting.
I make my way through the back entrance of the break room that is connected to the conference room, staring at my cell phone to make sure I shut the ringer off and I’m startled with a detonating “SURPISE!” My hands shake, I drop my phone and spill my drink on the floor. I look up and see balloons, streamers, presents and more throughout the room.
“Happy surprise baby shower!” I hear someone shout from the back of the room. I look around to see where the male voice came from and then I see Dan Jr. make his way to the front. I’m overcome with joy to see that he came here from our other office in New Jersey to celebrate.
I spent the next three hours with all of my coworkers laughing, crying tears of joy, stuffing my face with the most delicious fruits, cheese, pastries and casseroles. It was the best mandatory meeting I have ever been to. As much as I love my coworkers watching everyone stare at me opening the gifts was still uncomfortable. I could feel how red my face was but the good thing about working with a bunch of ‘joksters’ is that a conversation kept going throughout so there was no awkward silence.
“What the hell is a diaper genie?” I hear Bernie ask.
“My kid’s diapers went in the garbage can.” Paula adds.
I show them the back of the box with the various pictures of the diaper genie, and explain that it contains the odor and holds a lot of diapers. Then I admitted that I have no idea why I put it on the baby registry, and how other mom’s told me it was a must have. We laughed for a good five minutes just about poopy diapers from that one gift.
Bernie and Jim, also from the warehouse pack up my car with the gifts. Bernie is still shaking his head at the new contraptions, as he calls them, that babies have nowadays.
I can’t wait to call Jameson, tell him about the surprise baby shower, and the great gifts we received. I foresee a night of putting new toys together and well thought out thank you cards.
TODAY IS MY DUE DATE. I’m lying on my back in bed staring at the ceiling. I have to pee incredibly bad but I’m so fucking huge I can’t move. I’m afraid if I try to rock to the side to roll my fat ass out of the bed I might fall on the floor, but I give it a shot anyway. I lay my arms to my side and slowly start rocking back and forth. I use my right hand to help push me to the left side of the bed thinking it will remedy to the whole stuck in bed problem. It’s not working, and now I’m out of breath and I may or may not have peed my pants a little.
“Woman, what the hell are you doing?” Jameson asks lying next to me.
“I was trying to get out of bed but I’m stuck. I am one hundred percent a beached whale.” I explain in complete frustration on the verge of tears.
Jameson climbs out of bed, gives his neck and back a quick crack then saunters his gorgeously toned, naked body over to the other side of the bed where I lay stranded. He brushes his thumb over my knuckles and smiles at me lovingly.
“You look so beautiful laying here. I can’t thank you enough for taking such good care of our baby. I know it hasn’t been easy.”
“Thanks babe. That means a lot. Can you please forklift me out of here before I pee in our bed?”
Shaking his head, not enjoying me cracking on myself, he takes my hands in his and lifts me to a seated position. My back is incredibly sore. I’ve never been a stomach sleeper but I would love nothing more than to lay on my stomach. I stretch from side to side then reach for Jameson’s hands again to help lift me up from the bed.
We make our way down stairs for a quick breakfast then off to the doctor’s office for my final check-up. I don’t know what to expect but I know I don’t want to wait another two weeks for this baby to come out. I’ve been told by numerous people for first timers most doctors have them wait until two weeks after the due date to schedule an induction. The thought of waiting another two weeks makes me weep internally.
Three hours later, Jameson and I are in an exam room waiting on Dr. Siegel. I was hoping my final check-up would be with Dr. Miron but she’s on call at the hospital for the next few days. I’ve met Dr. Siegel once before and I really liked him. He’s always been my second option for a delivery doctor.
A swift knock on the door and Dr. Siegel slides in the room like a quick breeze. My cheeks immediately heat up at the sight of him. Standing tall at six feet four inches Dr. Siegel, has short salt and pepper hair, well tanned skin and a smile that could be on a Crest Toothpaste commercial.
“Good morning folks. It’s D day.”
“Good morning,” Jameson and I say simultaneously.
Dr. Siegel washes his hands, slaps on a pair of plastic gloves making his way over to me. I express my concern about giving birth to a baby the size of a Thanksgiving Day turkey. Jameson’s family has been known for giving birth to very large babies. He pushes and squeezes all around my belly. He tells me he doesn’t think she will be more than eight or nine pounds. Sweet Jesus! I was nervous as hell about her size.
“Hillary, overall how are you feeling?”
“I’m so done doc. So incredibly done.”
Dr. Siegel tells me to scooch down the table as he takes a seat on his stool so he can see if I have started to dilate. I hope I have. I want this baby out so badly. I want to meet her. I want to see her face. I want her little hand to grab my finger tightly. I feel Dr. Siegel’s hands down there and before I have a second to ask if I’m dilated I feel an enormous force shoot through my body and quickly rip right out of me. I can feel my eyes bugging out of my head and I lift off of the table slightly from shock and utter discomfort.
Dr. Siegel pulls his gloves off while standing up from his stool.
“Hillary, what I just did was strip your membranes.”
“Jesus Christ doc! A little warning would have been nice. I think I felt your elbow up there.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t want you to tense up making it difficult.”
“What the hell does strip membranes mean?” Jameson asks.
“Stripping the membranes means I separated the amniotic sac from the wall of the uterus. That will release hormones that can trigger contractions. So, if your water doesn’t break this weekend I will have you come in Monday for an induction. How does eight in the morning Monday sound?
Whoa. I wasn’t expecting that. This seems to be moving faster than I expected. Now I want to take it all back and go slow. I’ll take the two weeks. I’m freaking out. I can’t push a baby out of my vagina. What the hell was I thinking? I can’t take it back now. It’s too late. He just fisted me elbow deep, or stripped my membranes as he calls it. My water could break at any moment. Holy shit!
“Hillary? Do you have any questions?” Dr. Siegel asks snapping me from my panicked comatose state.
“No. No questions.” I quietly respond.
“Alright. Well I will get this scheduled. If you don’t go in to labor this weekend come to the third floor at the hospital Monday morning at eight. Have a great weekend.” Just like that he walks out of the door. I am still in the same position on the exam table, stuck in shock.
“Your eyes totally bugged out of your head. I didn’t know what to think when he did that.” Jameson admits.
“Ya think?”
Jameson offers his hand to help me off of the exam table and gets my panties and pants from the bench. I cannot get out of here fast enough. Panic is one hundred percent setting in. This is becoming more and more real.
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On the drive home we talk about going to the local fair tonight for a final date night before the baby arrives. Jameson makes a comment about how eating fried food and lots of walking will help get the baby out faster. He may be on to something. Sitting in the passenger seat I look down at my swollen feet in my Adidas sandals and think about how it would be a bad idea walking around the fairgrounds in these, especially since it rained yesterday. It’s going to be muddy, but my feet have swelled up so much over the last four weeks these are the only shoes that fit. They’re a men’s large for cryin’ out loud. I think a pit stop at the mall is in order for these big dogs. I really don’t want to miss the fair over not having comfortable sneakers to wear. It’s one of my favorite yearly date nights with Jameson.
Hours later I find myself walking around the fairgrounds in a pair of size ten sneakers. You heard me right. Before the baby I wore size eight sneakers, and now I am wearing a size ten. Pregnancy doesn’t just make your stomach, ass and hips grow incredibly large but apparently feet as well. I look like a fucking clown. These sneakers might as well be red so I can look like Ronald McDonald. Thankfully my stomach is so damn big I can’t even really see them but I did when Jameson was helping me put them on.
I feel as if everyone is staring at me, watching me waddle my way around but right now I don’t care because I’m on a hunt for a raspberry lime rickey. I know it’s a simple drink that I could probably make at home with raspberry syrup, club soda and some lime wedges but I only get it at the fair. It just makes it that much more special, even if it’s just a drink. If I pass a fried dough station I may or may not have to get one of those too. Jameson is on a mad hunt for clam fritters. He is determined to find them, even if it means asking a complete stranger if he sees them with a plate of them.
I spot the large white tent that holds all of the local vendors selling their goods. As much as I feel some of the items they sell are overpriced I like to keep in mind that it is important to help support local vendors. The crafts they are selling are handmade, same with their foods. You can’t beat handmade and homemade. Walking through the tent I see some elegant, stained glass wind chimes. I’m drawn to the magnificent colors. There is a canary yellow sunflower, and a very detailed seaweed green trout fish. Jameson points out one of his favorites, a cerulean dolphin. I spot a rosy red ladybug hiding in the back. It would look perfect outside the nursery window. I have to have it. I point it out to Jameson and he smiles responding with one word, “perfect.” He knows exactly where I want it to go.