The next morning Hank’s parents picked us up and we headed to Clovis. At first we didn’t know if we should tell them. Hank wanted to, but I didn’t think I was ready. Throughout the whole two-hour drive, Hank, who was behind the wheel, kept looking at me in the mirror and giving me eyes that said, Can I tell them?
I kept shaking my head no, and his look turned to disappointment.
I wanted to wait at least until I went to see a doctor.
Hank had different plans.
“Mom, Dad, we have something to tell you.”
Oh, boy, here we go.
“Kendra and I are going to have a baby.”
His mom screamed, “Oh my God!” and his dad lifted his face from the newspaper he was reading and uttered a fairly calm “Wow, congratulations,” before going back to his paper. Both of them were supportive, and it was a relief to know they were with us on this next step. His mom was ready to make baby blankets and everything.
The rest of the weekend I continued to experience every pregnancy symptom in the book as Hank’s mom followed me around, asking me if I was okay every few minutes. While on the outside I probably looked like I was a mess, on the inside I was happy. I was going to have a baby, and his family was on board.
Now all I had to worry about was my family.
While the cameras weren’t rolling on this trip, they did film another visit to New Mexico, and from that point on pretty much every experience I had as I prepared for my wedding day was caught on tape.
As soon as I got back from Clovis, I told the producers of the show that I was pregnant so they could plan their filming accordingly. They were happy for me, and I think they also enjoyed the extra drama it would add to the first season. Case in point: when I told them that my mom didn’t yet know about my pregnancy, they asked if they could film me telling her.
Sometimes I thought the show actually took some pressure off of me. My mom tended to react to things I did more calmly because she didn’t want to look bad on camera. I figured if I told her I was pregnant on the show, she might be shocked, but she wouldn’t really be able to get mad. Seemed like a plan to me.
Bridget, who was really good at planning things, put together a bridal shower for me at my mom’s house. She planned the party for Mother’s Day weekend, which really seemed like the perfect time for me to break the news to my mom. My goal was to tell her in private before the cameras started rolling so she didn’t feel totally ambushed, but the opportunity never came up.
The big moment arrived, and with the cameras pointing right at us I said that I couldn’t drink Champagne . . . because I was pregnant.
My mom went completely insane. She stormed out of the party. Her reaction made me angry, so I stormed out, too, and got in my car and drove off.
I was really upset. Hank’s parents had been so nice and understanding when they found out. How could my mom just desert me like that? What kind of mother was she?
Once I calmed down—and the cameras were far away—I went to her house to talk to her.
“I’m sorry I told you like that, in front of everyone,” I said.
“How dare you set me up like that?” she replied.
“I know, I’m sorry. They wanted your real reaction. It was a stupid idea.”
Then things took a turn for the worse. Still livid, she started going off about Hank and how I hadn’t even known him that long and how she wasn’t sure why I was even getting married so quickly.
Hold up, I thought.
“I love Hank,” I argued. “I wouldn’t be doing any of this if we didn’t love each other.”
“I thought this was your time to be strong and independent,” she said. “I just don’t know why you’re making these decisions.”
I was confused about what she was getting at, but I knew I didn’t like it. I quickly took back my apology and left.
The next day we had to shoot a Mother’s Day brunch, which the producers had set up at the Loews Hotel on the bay. As soon as my mom, my grandmother, my brother, and I were all there you could feel the tension in the room. I tried breaking the ice by pointing out the nice flowers that made up the centerpieces and telling my mom how much I liked her outfit. It didn’t work.
Finally, I got frustrated. It was Mother’s Day, damn it! I was having a baby and my family should be happy for me.
“Raise your hand if you are in favor of my life,” I stood up and said.
No hands went up. They all just looked away.
I went off. I started yelling and screaming that nobody supported me even though I was doing so much for the family these days. I asked my mom in front of everyone—even the cameramen—if she was just mad because I hadn’t given her money in a while.
Yikes, was that a bad move. She obviously wasn’t thinking about money. I get that now; I also realize that she married young, had two kids, then had her heart broken, and she didn’t want to see the same thing happen to me. But I was so furious at the time that I didn’t see any of that.
The yelling went back and forth, and in the course of the family meltdown my grandmother even told me that I took after my father. She might as well have jabbed a knife into my heart. I was crushed.
No one was considering my side or the fact that just because that had all happened to my mom didn’t mean it was going to happen to me. Hank and I loved each other, and they needed to trust that. They needed to trust me.
That whole day was filmed, but no part of it ever aired. It was way too intense for TV.
A couple of weeks went by and I still wasn’t talking to my family and the wedding was around the corner. We were two weeks from the big day and Hank, who was back on the East Coast, called me up belligerent and drunk as hell and started yelling and cursing at me. We had been fighting over wedding details, and maybe there were some pre-wedding jitters, but his drunk ass called while I was hanging out with my friend Mykelle—a producer on The Girls Next Door—and just went off. I was so mad, I threw my ring off and chucked my phone in the toilet and in my head canceled the wedding.
I was crying hysterically and Mykelle called my mom for help. Despite everything we were going through, my mom came to the rescue, calmed me down, and made me go pick up that ring. She was right; this wedding was going to be great, and Hank was just drunk (which is funny, because he rarely drinks) and didn’t mean what he said.
My mom and I made up, and Hank and I did the same. Everything was coming together. We even filmed a reenactment of my mom and me making up for the show, so everything could tie together nicely.
We couldn’t live in the past. We had to rally and focus because the big day was around the corner.
I wanted to be really hands-on when it came to planning my wedding. I didn’t want to just hire a stranger to handle all the details, so even though I had hired a wedding planner, leading up to the big day, I was still working the phones and dealing with all sorts of issues.
There were a lot of cooks in the kitchen, and it was actually kind of difficult to manage everyone. I had Playboy, the show, the wedding planner, the photographer, the florist, and so many other people involved, and we all had to be on the same page. The pregnancy hormones were definitely taking over, and coordinating everything with all those people drove me crazy.
But my biggest problem was the dress. Designing a wedding dress isn’t easy. It’s especially difficult when you want it to be form-fitting and your pregnant belly is growing bigger by the second.
I wasn’t pregnant when I first told Armine she could design the dress, and when she measured me to fit everything perfectly tight to my body she said, “Oh my god, you’re so small.”
A couple of months later I was pregnant, but no one was supposed to know. I didn’t know if I could trust her not to tell anyone, so I had to keep it a secret from her. I had to just roll the dice and hope she didn’t notice. I had a million fittings, and every time I went in and put the dress on I looked like I was about to explode out of it.
One day Armine said, “Girl,
you need to stop partying. Are you drinking too much right now?”
“No, I’m not drinking!” I said.
She could tell something was up. I was running to the bathroom every two minutes, and the dress was getting tighter and tighter.
My boobs started growing first, and she had to adjust the bodice multiple times. She kept saying, “Kendra you need to watch your weight.” For a long time I just let her think I was getting fat, but I was starting to get nervous about the dress. A month before the wedding I had to tell her. It was obvious anyway, but we needed to get everything out in the open if my dress was going to fit on my wedding day.
“Look, I’m pregnant,” I said.
“Oh my God, I knew it!” she yelled. “You’re getting so much bigger. Your boobs are humongous!”
“Sorry I didn’t tell you,” I said.
“It’s okay, but we’re going to have to do something, because this dress isn’t fitting.”
She didn’t tell me until later, but the week before the wedding she redid the entire dress. I am so grateful that she did. I wanted my dress to be tight, to show off my curves, and without telling me she somehow redid it and made it perfect. It was exactly what I wanted—an old-fashioned, curvy corset with a skirt that poofed out.
The wedding day arrived and everything was perfect. My dress fit right and the Mansion looked beautiful. It really is the most perfect destination for a wedding; it’s so romantic, and it looks like a castle. I had never dreamed of a fairytale wedding—I never really dreamed of a wedding at all—but I got one. It was absolutely magical.
Before the guests arrived, I walked all around the grounds and thought, Wow, this is even better than I pictured.
When all the guests were seated and Hank was standing at the altar waiting for me to walk down the aisle, I peeked out a window to see how he looked. He appeared to be really happy. Sometimes the groom looks scared to death, like he thinks he’s about to make some big mistake. Hank didn’t have that look. Thank God!
Holly and Bridget were two of my seven bridesmaids, and they walked down the aisle first. I loved having them as part of my wedding party. We went through so much together, it felt right that they were part of the ceremony.
Then it was my turn to walk down the aisle.
I had blurted out in an interview a few months before the wedding that I thought it would be cool for Hef to walk me down the aisle, but after Hank and I thought about it, we realized it would be a better honor for my brother, Colin, to have.
He deserved it. He learned a lot from my mistakes as a kid but he also went through his own rough phase. There were times when he veered off-course and ran with bad crowds, but in the end he worked his way back to the right path. He was an independent guy who never cared what other people thought about him—I’d like to think he learned that from me—and I would try to talk to him when times were tough, but we didn’t always have a strong bond and I know he didn’t enjoy hearing lectures from me.
But now we had a better relationship than I’d ever imagined, and I didn’t want anyone else to walk me down the aisle.
Leading up to the wedding, I thought about my dad a couple of times. As I was putting all the details together, I wondered what he was thinking. I had heard that he had inherited a bunch of money a couple years back and moved to Costa Rica, but surely he must have known his daughter was getting married. I wondered if he cared, or if he regretted missing out on the biggest day of my life. But on the day of my wedding he didn’t cross my mind once. Just like during all the other events in my life, he wasn’t there, and that seemed more normal to me than any other scenario. I had the greatest kid in the whole world on my arm as I walked down the aisle, and that felt right.
As anyone who watched the wedding episode of Kendra saw, I of course screwed up the words I was supposed to repeat after the minister. I wish I could say that I did that just for the cameras, but it was real. I have the worst memory ever.
But that was all right. Nothing was going to ruin my perfect day.
Eventually we got the “I do’s” out and, for better or worse, richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, I was Mrs. Hank Baskett and he was, um, Mr. Kendra Wilkinson—’til death do us part.
Walking through the Mansion and out the back door and into the party as a married couple for the first time, with everyone cheering for us, was such a happy moment. That walk felt like it was in slow motion, and I was so proud to be Hank’s wife.
Hank and I danced for the first time as husband and wife to George Strait’s “I Cross My Heart,” the song that we’d danced to in the hotel room on our very first weekend away together. From the minute he started twirling me around, I knew that would forever be our song. It was a special moment, and I’m pretty sure I even saw some big football players tear up as they watched us.
The second dance went to Hef. By the time the wedding rolled around, Hank had gotten to know Hef really well, and he understood our relationship. Whether I decided to call him an old boyfriend or a father figure or even just a friend, the title didn’t matter; Hef cared for me when few others did, and he believed in me when I barely believed in myself. On my wedding day I think it’s safe to say that of all people, Hef was the most proud.
We danced to his favorite song, “As Time Goes By,” from Casablanca—the movie we watched on one of my first nights at the Mansion. Every time he put on an old black-and-white movie I dreaded watching it. I would walk into the movie room and nine times out of ten the second the lights went out I would sneak out the back. But every time I stayed I loved the movie.
Then Hank danced with his mom to “A Song for Mama” by Boyz II Men. He’s a big mama’s boy, and I love that about him.
The rest of the night was a ton of fun. I ate, danced, drank Martinelli’s apple juice, and smiled. I couldn’t have asked for a better day, and my fairy-tale wedding at the Mansion was a perfect end to that part of my life, and also the perfect way to start a lifetime of new beginnings.
The second Hank and I got in the limo to go to our hotel suite (the first time we were alone all night), I said, “Let’s fuck” . . . and we did, right there in the back of the limo. Now that’s the perfect way to start a lifetime of new beginnings!
CHAPTER 21
The Adventure Continues
After the wedding there was little time for Hank and me to relax and enjoy being newlyweds. We were busy filming the final episodes for the new show and then, before we could even catch our breath after we wrapped, it was time for football season.
After fighting through a long-distance relationship with Hank when I lived in the Playboy Mansion there was no way I was going through it again, especially since we were expecting a baby. That meant it was time to pick up and move again.
I was barely moved into my L.A. town house before I started packing my belongings to move to Hank’s home outside Philadelphia.
Since football season had already started, I didn’t have much help from Hank. I was five months pregnant and packing boxes while yelling at moving men who didn’t speak English to watch out for my breakables. There were a lot of expensive wedding gifts in those boxes—engraved keepsakes and champagne glasses.
I heard things breaking and lost my mind.
“Oh my God, be careful,” I yelled, but in a nice way. “You can break this one, but don’t you dare touch my pimp cups!”
I don’t think they understood.
I got a pimp cup once from Don “Magic” Juan. That pimp cup is my baby. It’s from a real pimp, so I didn’t want it to break.
Como se dice “pimp cup” en Español?
Freaked out, I called my mom. “Just let them do their job,” she said. “Everything will be fine.”
She’s very trusting. Me, I worry. I wanted to see every step they took so I was absolutely sure my valuables—including that pimp cup—arrived to my new home in one piece.
I was putting a lot of pressure on this move. It was a big deal for me to head to the East Coast, away from
my friends and family, to be by Hank’s side, even though he would be traveling a lot for games and busy most of the time when he was home.
Good friends are hard to find these days, and I realized that even more when I got to Philly. Living in a new city, with new people, was overwhelming. I got very lonely, and when I would leave the house to pick up food or run errands, I felt like everyone was staring at me. In L.A., people recognized me from TV, but everyone is recognizable there so it’s not as big of a deal. Now I went out and I couldn’t handle it. If I was at the grocery store and accidentally dropped an orange I felt like everyone in town would be talking about it.
Don’t get me wrong, I love the show and I love the fans, but sometimes I forget how to just be me. I used to be the life of the party, but I was quickly becoming more of a stay-in-and-watch-a-movie kind of girl, and developing a little bit of a phobia about leaving my house.
Being pregnant didn’t help. It affected my mood, made me paranoid about everything, and pissed me off every time I struggled to just get off the couch.
I found a good doctor in the area and went for regular checkups. When she would go anywhere near my belly button, I would freak out. I hate my belly button! I couldn’t look at it, especially when I was pregnant. Nobody can touch it. Even the words belly button give me the chills. Hank would joke that my belly button must be really dirty because I won’t go near it.
This weird belly-button thing started when I was a kid and I saw a Ren and Stimpy episode where they went inside a belly button. After seeing that I had a huge fear of them, so when the doctor did an ultrasound I asked her to stay away from the button. Actually, I probably didn’t ask—I probably told her in a stern voice.
I get loud and forceful sometimes, but when I was pregnant I was more demanding than usual. One night I went out to dinner with Hank and we got in a huge fight over Obama. I told him I liked Obama, but that I didn’t understand all the hype because it didn’t seem like he had done anything to change the country yet. He tried to change my opinion, and that’s a big no-no. We were yelling back and forth, while the whole restaurant was watching. “You will never change my fucking opinion,” I yelled. And I meant it. (Don’t get me started on O.J., or whether Michael Jackson touched those little boys. We will fight about that all day. No one can change my mind, except for maybe Nancy Grace. I love Nancy Grace.) Add some crazy hormones to my stubbornness, my weird fear of belly buttons, and the fact that I’m a Gemini, and you can imagine the kind of fun Hank and I had during the pregnancy.
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