by Kate Rorick
“Wonderful!” Kathy exclaimed. “So you should be in good shape for Christmas!”
“Yes, of course I will,” she replied as she put her bag down at the table. “David and I are looking forward to it.”
In truth, she was far behind on her Christmas shopping. It might only be the first week of December, but usually by this time she had her cards done, their place decorated, and most everything but stocking stuffers purchased. But she would absolutely have everything done by Christmas Day. She’d just been a little distracted.
This time of year was also crazy at school. What with shortened attention spans for the holidays, midterms, and she was assigning a big paper tomorrow that none of her students would be happy about, save the overachievers. And her overachieving seniors were all worried about what college they were going to get into.
And oh yeah, she was currently growing a fetus. She needed to set up a nursery. And a 529 plan for the baby’s college. And talk to David about getting a will and trust.
If he ever got home from the office, what with all their pre-end-of-term work. There was a company his company was in negotiations to buy, and he was killing himself over it.
Come the Christmas break, everything would be better. They would drive up to Santa Barbara, spend Christmas Day with her family, and then continue up the coast for their real vacation, and Nathalie’s surprise gift to David—taking that trip to Monterey that they missed the first time around.
“ . . . And so you’ll be able to stay an extra couple days for the party!” Kathy was saying.
“What party?”
“The gender reveal party!” Kathy’s chipper voice was making her wish for a glass of wine instead of the ginger ale she went to the fridge to pour herself.
“Gender reveal party?”
“Yes! I’m inviting everyone. All your old friends from school, any friends you want to have from work, and of course my book club.” Then a pause. “You do know what a gender reveal party is, right?”
“Of course I do,” she replied. And she did. Vaguely. In theory. She’d never been to one, but she’d been lurking in pregnancy and mommy forums enough for the past three years to know what this latest fad in prenatal celebrations was.
A gender reveal party was when instead of just having the doctor tell you “it’s a boy/girl!” when they A.) Got test results back, B.) Saw—or didn’t see—a penis on the ultrasound, or C.) Pulled the child out of you kicking and screaming, they would send the gender results to a bakery. Yes, a bakery.
Which would bake a cake with either a pink or blue center, so when you cut into it, you would discover—along with everyone else with you at the time—the gender of your baby.
“You want to throw me a gender reveal party?” she said, her voice cracking a little, as she sat down at the table, ginger ale in hand. Indeed, she was even getting a little misty. “I . . . I don’t know what to say.”
She never expected that Kathy would want to throw her a party like this. They had never been close. Kathy had come into Nathalie’s life less than a year after her mom’s death. And they’d tried to find a footing then, but Nathalie was still a kid who was processing the stages of grief, and Kathy was a woman who’d never really dealt with a child before.
Then, within a year of marrying her dad, Lyndi was born, and suddenly Kathy had a baby that she could learn to parent from the ground up, not someone halfway to adulthood that required more complex interactions. Thus, theirs had always been a cordial coexistence. Kathy tried to guide Nathalie, Nathalie tolerated it, but basically figured out how to raise herself.
But now . . . maybe with the baby coming, they would finally find a way to bridge the gap between them.
“You just get your doctor to put the gender results in an envelope and give it to me,” Kathy was saying, “and I’ll do the rest.”
“Right,” she said, looking down at the envelope on the table, with the gender results in it. The prescience of her stepmother was, at times, astounding.
On the one hand, she’d really been looking forward to sharing this moment with David today. Something to hold between them.
But on the other hand, Kathy was reaching out . . . and it’s not like she and David wouldn’t be together when they found out the sex—they would just also be surrounded by friends and family.
“So, what do you say?” Kathy asked, breathless.
“Um . . . sure.”
“Wonderful!” Kathy trilled. “I have to call your sister, let her know you’re in!”
“In?”
“Of course, sweetie—Lyndi’s as excited as you are about the party for you two! Don’t forget to mark your calendar!”
As Kathy hung up, a shot of cold settled into Nathalie’s stomach. Of course. The party wasn’t for her. It was for them. For Nathalie, and for Lyndi.
As if they were having a baby together, instead of one of them planning their lives around this momentous occasion, and the other one falling on her apparently-not-gay roommate’s penis and ending up pregnant.
Nathalie hadn’t spoken to Lyndi since Thanksgiving either. She could once again blame this on the hecticness of the postturkey/pre–candy cane life, but the truth was, she didn’t really know what to say.
What she wanted to say was . . . a hundred different things. All variations on “what the hell are you doing?” but she knew she couldn’t say that. Not with the fact that she was pregnant, too.
Except, she was pregnant with a husband, a mortgage, and a plan for how to care for the child for the next two decades. She was ready for this baby. There was no way Lyndi could say the same thing.
She knew it wasn’t fair. But it was all she could think about when it came to her sister at the moment. Just how completely crazy the situation was. How totally unfair.
But then again, her sister was the one person she knew in a similar boat to hers. And not just the pregnancy.
So she texted a number whose last conversation was listed as almost two weeks ago.
* * *
A gender reveal party?
* * *
It was a couple seconds before Lyndi wrote back.
* * *
It sounded like fun. What do you think?
* * *
* * *
Could be nice. I guess. Don’t want Kathy going overboard though.
* * *
Another long pause while Lyndi typed.
* * *
Mom’s going to do what she’s going to do anyway. Let her be enthusiastic.
* * *
* * *
True. I almost let my doctor tell me the sex today. Good thing Kathy called beforehand.
* * *
* * *
Hah.:) I have to get on that.
* * *
* * *
Finding out the sex?
* * *
* * *
Yeah, and doctors in general.
* * *
Nathalie’s eyes nearly bugged out of her head.
* * *
You haven’t seen a doctor yet??????
* * *
The dots loaded slow again, in an annoyingly huffy manner, or so Nathalie perceived.
* * *
I’m only 10 weeks.
* * *
* * *
I mean, 11. And a half.
* * *
* * *
You should have seen a doctor by now. You should have been seen TWICE.
* * *
* * *
Okay, okay. Sheesh. It’s on my to-do list.
* * *
Nathalie resisted the urge to throw her phone across the room.
* * *
What’s your insurance?
* * *
More dots. Rage-inducing dots.
* * *
Blue Cross. Just got my cards in the mail.
* * *
“Well, thank goodness for that,” Nathalie grumbled to herself.
* * *
Ok, hold on.
> * * *
She quickly switched the phone into phone mode, and called up Dr. Duque’s office. It took her three minutes to explain the situation. It took the nurse another two to fit Lyndi into a recently abandoned appointment slot. Five minutes Lyndi couldn’t find in her busy schedule to, you know, attend to her growing child.
* * *
You have an appointment with Dr. Keen at 3 PM tomorrow.
* * *
She texted the address and phone number while the loading dots anticipated Lyndi’s response.
* * *
You didn’t have to do that.
* * *
* * *
Apparently I did.
* * *
* * *
I have work, you know.
* * *
* * *
You’re done by 3, you know.
* * *
* * *
Okay, fine.
* * *
* * *
Thanks.
* * *
* * *
And the doc will be able to determine the sex?
* * *
* * *
Not at 11 weeks. You’ll need to take a blood test. An NIPT (noninvasive prenatal test), which you’ll want to anyway to rule out some of the most prevalent genetic abnormalities. That test will also tell you the baby’s sex.
* * *
* * *
Oh. Ok. I hadn’t really thought about that stuff.
* * *
* * *
Stuff?
* * *
* * *
Abnormalities.
* * *
And all of a sudden, Nathalie found her heart breaking a little bit for her sister. Lyndi hadn’t even thought about “that stuff.” She just assumed everything was going to be fine. Because that’s who she was. Everything was always fine for Lyndi. But now, she was facing the same uncertainty that Nathalie had for the past three years.
Her response came by rote. By twenty-four years of being the protective older sister.
* * *
It’ll be okay. Dr. Keen is really nice. Young. But she’ll be thorough. Your baby will be in good hands.
* * *
* * *
Okay. And don’t worry about Mom and the gender reveal party stuff. Just let her enjoy herself.
* * *
* * *
I couldn’t stop her if I tried.
* * *
And the phone fell silent.
But the silence didn’t remain. Because it was only a few ticktocks of the clock on the mantel before Nathalie was pleasantly surprised to hear the key slide in the front door.
“Oh,” David said as he came in and saw her sitting at their newish IKEA table. (The chairs had been taken back. Until she chose a replacement they were using the folding chairs from the garage.) “Hey—I didn’t think you’d be home.”
“I didn’t think you’d be home yet either,” she said, rising and smiling.
“Yeah, I have to wait for signatures from Japan before I can proceed on to the next thing, so I decided to come home at a normal hour.” He placed a perfunctory kiss on her nose. “I thought you had a thing.”
“If by ‘thing’ you mean a doctor’s appointment, yes I did.”
“Gotcha.” He nodded, looking askance, like his eyes couldn’t focus on anything that wasn’t paperwork. “How’d that go?”
“All good,” she said. “Baby is still in there. Test results came back normal from last time.”
“Great,” he said on a sigh. Then he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and just held her there for a second. Her head in the crook of his neck, his body lined up against hers.
It felt wonderful. This, she thought. This is what I needed. And David, somehow had known it.
They stood there for a little bit, until David leaned back.
Not willing to let the closeness she’d been missing go quite yet, Nathalie held on to his arm.
“So what do you want for dinner? I can make anything—or call anyone. Thai? Also, I was hoping to talk to you about setting up the 529 plan. I can do it myself but I wanted to get your opinion on which one was best. Also, who should we talk to about a will—should we get an estate-planning lawyer or do you know someone in that field? And you’re not going to believe this, but Kathy called, and she wants to throw us a gender reveal party over Christmas. I couldn’t quite figure out how to say no—”
“Honey,” David said, his eyes falling toward the dormant TV in the living room. “I know we have to talk about this stuff, but do you mind if I just . . . de-stress a little first?”
“Xbox?” Nathalie said, nodding. “Sure. No problem.”
“I’ve been on the phone half the day talking, I just want to shoot aliens for a little while. Do whatever you want for dinner.”
“Got it,” Nathalie said, stepping back. Then her eyes fell to the table. Where the envelope with the gender of the baby sat next to the ultrasound photo.
She picked one up.
“Here’s the ultrasound picture. Looking less and less like the Peanut and more and more like a baby.”
She handed it to him, and then crossed to what was currently the office and would soon be the baby’s room, letting the door slip shut behind her.
It was only a couple of seconds before she heard the Xbox start up and the theme music of David’s current favorite game.
Then, she slid in front of the desktop computer, and opened up the internet.
Maybe someone on here could show her comparative models of various 529 plans and which one was the best.
But somehow her fingers took her not to college savings plans, but to the mommy forums she’d lurked in for so long.
And for once, unlurked.
Does anyone know about gender reveal parties? My family wants to throw one, I’d like to know what to expect.
And she waited. It was thirty seconds before the first response popped up. Then another and another and another.
OMG my gender reveal party was AMAZING. It was super fun the first of many celebrations for you and your LO! We had the most delicious ake—here’s the bakery’s link.
Ugh, total waste of time and money. I wanted one but everyone else was not enthusiastic. So when the cake came out blue, everyone was like . . . so? Big disappointment.
Enthusiasm matters. If your family wants to do it for you, consider yourself lucky. It’s for them anyway, not really for you. Enjoy it!
DON’T DO A CAKE! It’s so passé now it’s almost retro. Besides, not everyone can eat it, with dietary restrictions. My friend had the best gender reveal, setting up exploding glitter balls on a timer, so everyone was drenched in pink sparkles at the same time. Here’s a website with a ton of ideas!
Tentatively, Nathalie clicked on the link. And her eyes bugged out of her head.
Anything that could be pink or blue was pink or blue. And some things that really, really shouldn’t have been.
There were baked goods, of course: cakes, cupcakes, cake pops with centers dyed the color associated with your child’s genitalia. There were also stuffed croissants, stuffed donuts, stuffed pork tenderloin—anything that could be stuffed, basically, could be cut into and presto! The big reveal.
There were things that exploded, too—glitter balls. Confetti that could be loaded into a cannon and shot at the crowd (Where was this crowd? A stadium?). You could put balloons in a box and then open it, releasing them to the sky where they would inevitably end up in the gullet of some poor bird. You could load up squirt guns with colored water and have guests shoot each other, while wearing white T-shirts. Or if the party had a younger contingent (or the young at heart! the website exclaimed) you could use Silly String. There was something Nathalie couldn’t exactly determine, but they looked like colored roadside flares.
There was even one couple featured who filled a box with colored chalk, and shot the box with a sniper rifle, revealing the gender in a cloud of dust, while the event was photographed i
n diffused natural light.
Nathalie closed the computer window. For a moment, she was afraid that the pink or blue glitter had somehow leaked out of the computer and spilled onto the desk.
As she brushed nonexistent glitter off the keyboard, Nathalie knew one thing was clear:
Kathy must never, ever know about anything on that site.
Chapter 7
LYNDI HAD HAD BETTER WEEKS. OH, IT started out great! The wreath idea went over well. So well in fact, that Paula gave her the lead on the product—design, pricing, everything. It was a rush to get that kind of responsibility, and Lyndi came home from work smiling ear to ear.