I couldn’t believe my good luck—except it wasn’t really luck, was it? For once in my life I was working hard, and I was making good choices. And it was starting to pay off for me, and for my baby.
Chapter Twenty-nine
Thirty-six Weeks: You’re nearly there now! In just one short week you will be considered full term, at which point the baby could be born at any time! Now is the time to do all those last minute things that you may have been putting off. Is the nursery decorated? Your hospital bag packed? Do you have your crib, your stroller, your bassinet, your car seat? The list goes on and on! Most women enjoy this aspect of upcoming birth—chances are you’ve been shopping for weeks! That’s great news: you’ll be all ready when the baby comes, giving you the opportunity to relax and enjoy your little one!—Dr. Rebecca Carr, A Gal’s Guide to a Fabulous First Pregnancy!
“Ginny,” Jen asked cautiously. “What exactly are you doing?”
“What does it look like I’m doing?” I muttered. I was kneeling on the kitchen floor, scrubbing the linoleum.
“Okay,” she said. “Maybe I should ask why are you cleaning the kitchen floor at seven thirty on Saturday morning?”
“Because the kitchen floor is filthy,” I replied. “Look at it! When’s the last time we cleaned it?”
“I’m not sure,” she said, in that same cautious voice, as if she were addressing a crazy woman and not her best friend.
“Look, Jen,” I said, leaning back on my feet and blowing the hair off my forehead. “This entire house is filthy, and there’s going to be a baby here soon. Would you want your baby crawling around on this floor?”
“You have a point,” she conceded. “But I don’t think your baby is going to be crawling any time soon.”
I rolled my eyes and went back to my scrubbing.
“Just be careful, okay?” Jen said. “You don’t want to throw your back out or anything.”
“I’m fine,” I replied, as Jen started to edge out of the room.
“Oh, and don’t forget,” she called over her shoulder. “Annie and I are taking you out to lunch today, and we’re not taking no for an answer.”
Annie and Jen had been bugging me about spending an afternoon together for a few weeks. I think they were worried about me being lonely after Luke. I did miss him, but it certainly wasn’t heartbreaking. I was staying pretty busy with work: Mr. Wright had let me take some shifts as manager and I loved it. It was challenging, but fun. And it felt really good to know I was doing something productive, something that would help my baby.
After I finished the floor, I decided the fridge could do with cleaning out. Then I dusted all the furniture and vacuumed. When Annie woke up at ten thirty, she stared at me in confusion for a full minute before declaring that I was nuts and walking off to make herself breakfast.
At eleven thirty, Jen cornered me in the bathroom and demanded that I drop my scrub brush. “You need to get ready,” she told me firmly.
“Jen, can’t I finish this room first? It’s only lunch, it can wait a while.”
“Nope,” she said. “We made reservations at a nice place. We’re going to put on cute clothes and go out and have a nice lunch. Now get moving.”
“But look at this grout!” I exclaimed. “Jen, it’s awful!”
“Ginny,” she said patiently. “This is called nesting. It’s very normal. Your hormones are telling you to get ready for the baby, and that’s fine. But I don’t have time for it this afternoon. Now please get your ass up off the floor and get ready.” She forcibly pulled the scrub brush from my hands and picked up my bucket. “Now, Ginny.”
I sighed and did as she asked, not even bothering to collect my fifty cents. I took a nice warm shower then headed up to my room, where Jen had laid out a cute sundress for me. I figured that was taking her control freak tendencies a little too far, but I didn’t feel like arguing so I put the dress on. I curled my hair and put some makeup on, beginning to get into the spirit of things.
That is, until I tried to put on my shoes.
Annie found me five minutes later, sitting on the floor of my bedroom, shoes spread all around me, sobbing uncontrollably. “What’s wrong with you?” she cried in dismay.
“I wanted…to look...cute!” I wailed, as Annie gingerly patted my back. “But none...none of my shoes fit…because I’m too fat!”
To her credit, Annie managed to not laugh at me, or even mention the word hormones. Instead, she rubbed my back until I calmed down a little, and then convinced me to come down to her room and borrow some heels from her. Her feet, as she pointed out reasonably, were two sizes bigger than mine and should fit much better.
Ten minutes later, with a pair of Annie’s wedge sandals strapped firmly on my feet, and my make-up freshly reapplied, we were finally ready to leave. The three of us piled into Jen’s Jeep and headed downtown. “Where are we going, anyways?” I asked.
“It’s a surprise,” Annie said mysteriously as Jen turned up the radio, effectively ending all conversation.
We ended up in Midtown. Jen pulled right up to a gorgeous mansion, parking in the valet lane and handing her keys off to the young man who had appeared at her window.
We climbed out of the car and I clapped my hands. “Are we eating at the Whitney?” I asked excitedly.
“That we are!” Jen said, linking her arm through mine and steering me into the building.
The Whitney was a gorgeous old mansion built in the late 1890s and converted into a very swanky restaurant. I had always wanted to eat there, ever since I was a little girl, but it had never been in my budget.
“Thank you, girls!” I cried.
“Well, we knew you always wanted to come here,” Annie said, smiling at me. “You’ve been working so hard, we figured it would be a nice treat.”
As we entered the opulent lobby, I felt giddy with excitement. It was so beautiful inside, just like I had imagined. I drank in the wood paneling, elaborate moldings, stained glass, and lush carpets. I was in heaven and we’d barely crossed the threshold.
Jen stepped up to the desk and spoke quietly with the hostess, who smiled at us and gestured that we should follow her.
She led us up a sweeping staircase to the second floor. “You ladies will be in the Flora Tea Room,” she said, smiling over her shoulder. We walked down a short hallway and then stopped at the entrance to the tea room.
As the hostess stepped out of the way, I gasped. Gathered around the entrance were thirty or so people—all of whom I knew. Girls from high school and college, my old track friends, Annie’s and Jen’s moms, various aunts and cousins, Beth from the bookstore—and my mother.
Jen leaned into me. “Welcome to your baby shower,” she whispered.
* * *
It was the best afternoon I could have imagined.
After we entered the room, I promptly burst into tears—of course. “You can’t surprise a pregnant lady like that!” I wailed, as Annie hugged me and laughed. I was passed around the room, hugging everyone. I couldn’t believe so many people were here, that so many of them wanted to support me.
The biggest surprise was my mother. She showed not a trace of embarrassment or disapproval, merely pulling me in for a rare hug and whispering that I looked beautiful. As I pulled away from her, I thought I may have even seen a trace of tears around her eyes.
Annie and Jen had planned several cheesy games, which, they assured me, were essential to the mom-to-be experience. The games mostly seemed designed to embarrass me: everyone had to guess the size of my belly, guess how many baby items I could correctly name, and blindfolded, tape a paper baby on my belly. Then there was something disgusting involving melting candy bars in diapers—I had to leave the room for that one.
After the games we ate a lovely meal: tomato bisque, bruschetta, chicken piccata, and some kind of stuffed eggplant dish. It was delicious. When we finished eating, the staff brought out my cake. It was a simple sheet cake, iced in a delicate blue shade. The decorations were minimal; jus
t a sprinkling of silver stars around the corners. In the center of the cake, in dark blue script, was the phrase, “A Precious Gift from Heaven… Congratulations, Ginny!” I cried some more—then ate three pieces.
When the food had been cleared, the wait staff brought out tea and Jen marched me to the front of the room, where she sat me in an elegant cushioned chair. It was only then that I noticed the stack of presents in the corner.
Two days ago I had worried that I would never have the money to afford everything the baby needed—now I wondered where I would put it all. Jen admitted to me later that she had registered for me, so everyone invited would know what I needed. The baby now had his car seat, a darling white bassinette, a plastic bath, vast amounts of clothes, towels and blankets, even a jogging stroller (a joint gift from my track friends).
My mother, to my never-ending surprise, outdid them all: she and my dad had signed me up for a year’s worth of home delivery cloth diaper service. “I know you worry about all that environmental stuff,” she explained sheepishly. I had, in fact, gone through a militant-environmental phase as a teenager, mostly to annoy her. I was touched beyond belief that she had remembered.
Jen and Annie’s gifts were last. They shyly presented me with a bedding set almost identical to the one we had seen that day at Baby and Me!—not only the blanket I had seen Jen working on, but matching sheets, pillows and a bed skirt. I was speechless. “We both did the sewing,” Jen said. “Annie was really good with the pillows.” Thinking of the two of them—the least domestic girls I knew—sitting up late at night sewing for me—it made my eyes well with tears all over again.
“We got you one other thing,” Annie said, reaching behind the table to pull out a gift bag. “We figured most of your gifts would be for the baby. This one is just for you.” From the bag I pulled out a tube of Victoria’s Secret body lotion, a set of silky pajamas, bath oils, slippers, a massive box of Godiva chocolates, and a bottle of pinot grigio—“To celebrate not being pregnant anymore,” Annie explained.
I looked around at all the people who loved me, who loved my baby. Especially Annie and Jen. I was absolutely overwhelmed with their kindness and generosity. Since I couldn’t think of the words to tell them how much it all meant to me, and my throat was feeling tight with tears yet again, I decided to keep it simple.
“Thank you.”
Chapter Thirty
Later that night I sat with Annie and Jen in our living room. We had hauled all the presents inside and piled them up in the corner of our seldom-used dining room. Jen insisted that I wash all the new baby clothes—she had read that it was important in one of the baby books. I wondered, not for the first time, just how much research she was putting into this whole thing.
We had washed and folded all the tiny pieces (I couldn’t stop myself from cooing over each one, though Annie gave me several despairing looks), put together the bassinet, assembled the bouncy chair, and tried to figure out what, exactly, the diaper genie was supposed to do. I was bone tired, and, for once, the girls were even worse. I couldn’t get over how much effort and expense they had put into this day for me.
“I want to cook you guys dinner,” I said impulsively, standing up and stretching.
“Why?” The alarm in Annie’s voice was undeniable, which I found slightly offensive.
“Because you worked so hard on this shower,” I said. “You guys look exhausted; I want you to sit and rest.”
“That’s nice,” Jen said uncertainly. “What…ah…are you going to make?”
“You guys!” I said, irritated, “I am not that bad a cook!”
“Of course you’re not, hon,” Jen said, shooting Annie a warning look. “But you’ve had a big day, too. Why don’t we just order in?”
I thought about that for a moment. I could head into the kitchen and try to scrounge something up, more than likely burning it, or I could pick up the phone.
“Okay,” I said quickly. “But I’m buying.”
We opted for Thai food, primarily because they delivered and none of us felt like going out again. Instead, we slipped into our PJs and stretched out on the couches, while we ate straight from the cartons.
“We really need to figure out this name thing,” Annie said, in between bites.
I sighed. “Nothing feels right,” I told them. “I’m hoping something will jump out at me once I see him.”
“Don’t you think that’s a pretty risky strategy?” Jen asked. “What if nothing comes to you? Do you really want everyone referring to him as ‘Baby Boy McKensie’ for the first few days of his life?”
I laughed. “Fair point. Alright, let’s try to figure this out.”
“I’ll grab my laptop. There are tons of baby name websites!” Jen said excitedly, jumping up and heading to her bedroom. I rolled my eyes at Annie.
“She’s probably been dying to do this for weeks,” she muttered.
Jen returned and quickly booted up her computer while Annie and I gathered around her. Within seconds she had pulled up a site. “Did you actually have that saved under your favorites?” Annie asked. “God, what a nerd.”
Jen started reading down the list. It was pretty overwhelming. There were modern names, ethnic names, popular names, quirky names. “Holy crap,” Anne muttered. “There’s thousands of names on here!”
“Well, what direction do you want to take, Gin?” Jen asked. “Popular, old fashioned, something a little different?”
“Um…” I had no idea. This was much harder than I thought it would be. “Let’s start with popular names.”
“Good idea,” Annie agreed. “Then he won’t get picked on in school for having a freak name.”
“Okay, let’s see…Aidan is very popular right now…then there’s Levi, Tyler, Noah, Jackson, Jayden…any of these jumping out at you?”
“I can’t picture you with a baby named Jayden,” Annie said, squinting her eyes. “Too trendy.”
“Wanna try some celebrity baby names?” Jen asked.
“Sure.” She clicked on the screen and a new list came up.
“Hmm…we’ve got Wynn, Satchel, Coco, Lyric, Moxie, Apple…”
“Okay, that’s enough of that!” Annie demanded. “You cannot name your baby any of these! You’re not trendy or quirky. You’re classic.”
I smiled, taking that as a compliment.
“She has a point. You’re not really a ‘Lyric’ kind of mom,” Jen agreed.
“You could always go back to names from books,” Annie said. “Like you were gonna do if it was a girl.”
I thought about that, but there weren’t too many male names I loved from literature. “What about Holden?” Jen asked. “That’s from a book. Or Jem—you liked To Kill a Mockingbird, didn’t you? Or there’s…hmm, who was the guy Anne Shirley got with?”
“Gilbert,” I said automatically. Anne of Green Gables was probably my all-time favorite book.
“Nope!” Annie exclaimed. “Gilbert, Jem, and Holden are not classic. What’s wrong with something simple? Like Thomas, or Michael, or Daniel?”
Daniel. Danny. Just like Josh’s dream.
“Daniel...” Jen said slowly, thinking it over. “You know what, I really like it!”
“Yeah, I can see you with a Daniel,” Annie said.
I could see it too. If I was honest with myself, every time I pictured the baby, it’s what I thought of: that image Josh had imparted all those years ago. Our baby, Danny. But did I want to keep that connection alive? Would it make me sad to look at that baby, the baby we had dreamed of, and know that Josh didn’t want it?
I didn’t feel sad now, thinking about it. I felt…right. I’m ashamed to admit it, but I wanted that attachment to Josh, even now, even after everything. If he wouldn’t be in our lives, this could be one tiny way the baby could be connected to his father, to the very best memory I had of our relationship.
“Daniel,” I said out loud. “Danny…I like it too.”
Annie and Jen squealed and hugged me. “Baby Da
nny!” Jen exclaimed. “It’s perfect!”
And in that moment, I really felt like it was.
Chapter Thirty-one
Thirty-eight Weeks: Congratulations! You have nearly crossed the finish line. Though your due date is still a few weeks off, keep in mind that you could go into labor at any time. In the last thirty-eight weeks you have probably gained at least twenty-five pounds. Your baby weighs anywhere from five to eight pounds! You may be feeling achy, bloated, hot and uncomfortable, but inside your womb your baby is perfect! All of his features and organs are fully formed—he’s just waiting to meet you!—Dr. Rebecca Carr, A Gal’s Guide to a Fabulous First Pregnancy!
The third Friday in July was one of the hottest afternoons of the summer. Annie arrived home after her classes to find me stretched out on the couch in nothing but a pair of old boxer shorts and a bathing suit cover up. The combination of my expanding girth and the extreme heat had led me to seek refuge inside, with all the curtains closed, the lights off, my feet in a bucket of water and an oscillating fan targeted straight at my face.
“You are a classy-looking babe, Ginny McKensie,” Annie pronounced as she set her bag down and slipped out of her flip flops.
“I do my best,” I said.
“Have you been sitting here all day?”
I had stopped working that Wednesday. The Wrights were generously granting me two full months of maternity leave. I think they were probably just terrified I would go into labor in the store. It was good to have some time off before the baby came, particularly as it was getting harder to do essential things—like get dressed or, you know, walk.
“I haven’t moved since eleven a.m.,” I replied. “Now be quiet, please; talking makes me too hot.”
“Ginny, you have the air cranked up and a fan blowing on your face. How are you still hot?”
“Um, I don’t know, Ann, maybe it’s the fact that I’m growing a human being, I’m roughly the size of a hippo, and it’s ninety-five degrees out.”
Three Girls and a Baby Page 14