by H. J. Bellus
Milly didn’t respond, she only shed silent tears. Tears of happiness? Or tears of sorrow? She was the one person who knew all my demons, fears, and anxieties when it came to being a momma.
“Milly…” I asked.
Her deep brown eyes peered up to me, and in that instant, I knew I was knocked up. But, by God, knocked up in the very best way. I was knocked up by my husband and my sister was about to tell me so. My tears beat Milly’s response. We were soul sisters and soul sisters didn’t need to use words to express their thoughts. I was pregnant.
“You’re pregnant,” she said.
Silence filled the air, and that wasn’t typical when it involved the two of us.
“Well, no fucking shit I’m pregnant. My husband has excellent swimmers and a gorgeous cock. They’re body builders, just like him. Strong little fuckers.”
Milly rushed over to me, and I leapt off the toilet and we hugged, both of our shoulders damp with salty tears.
“I’m your baby’s godmother!” she insisted.
“Do rebels really appoint godmothers?” I asked in all seriousness.
“Fuck yes they do, when they have a BFF that is smoking hot and talented.”
“I do love you, Miss Milly May,” I said.
She hated that nickname.
“I know you do, and I’m sorry for being a bitch earlier. I know that your small dicked husband doesn’t let you apologize, so I will be the bigger person and do so.”
Jesus, Milly really believed Tripp had a small dick. I didn’t correct her, because I knew for a fact he was bigger than Cree from her very descriptive explanation of Cree’s one eyed monster. Did I just say one-eyed monster? Must be the pregnancy hormones already…
Milly and I were still holding each other when Willow entered the bathroom. My shorts and hot pink thong were wrapped around my ankles.
“Guess you’re knocked up,” Willow deadpanned.
Willow was the silent buddy, but she was there in mind and spirit, fighting her own demands. I reached out with one arm to pull her into our group hug.
“Yes, I’m knocked up with the spawn of Tripp.”
My husband chose that moment to walk in on us hugging in the bathroom. My bare ass was exposed to his eyes as I continued to hug my twat waffles.
“You weren’t shitting that Lace had Beavis and Butthead tattooed on her ass,” Cree said.
Cree’s voice whipped me back into reality. I whirled to face the two men and instantly pulled up my shorts. Oh shit! Cree just saw the pork chop tattooed across my lady bits, too. Jesus, I just exposed my twat to Cree. Definitely, the pregnancy hormones. This was going to be nice having an excuse for all my dumbass moves.
The three of us just stared back at the two men in the narrow doorway of the bathroom. Then, the three of us looked at each other. Milly had the honor of looking at the piss stick, so I guess it was Willow’s turn to relay the news of my newfound motherhood to the men. Willow went to open her mouth when Annie stuck her head between Cree and Tripp’s legs.
“Are you guys meeting without me? Like planning another trip to Disney?” she asked as she raised both eyebrows.
Willow, having the most common sense, simply replied, “Nope! Not this time, missy. Tripp and Lacey were just deciding if they should paint their extra room pink or blue.”
“That’s stupid. Unky, paint it orange and blue,” she replied as she stamped out of the room. Obviously, she was pissed about not going to Disneyland again.
Tripp’s face was something to remember for a lifetime. Words couldn’t explain it. He was thrilled, nervous and green. Green? Yes, the Beast was going to puke. Us girls cleared the way, so he could make it to the toilet, but instead he fainted, crashing to the floor with a Richter Scale boom. What a puss. He was going to be a dad.
***
That evening in the garden…
To The Baby I’ll Never Know-
I found out another baby is growing in my womb. I’m scared and hurt. I ache for you and I hurt for us. Forgiveness will never come to me. My father was a monster and destroyed every life he touched. I’m happy, yet feel sick about it because of you. Please know I love you, and that Tripp has healed my shattered, devastated heart and has cleared a spot that has your sweet little soul nestled deep down in it.
I will never forgive myself, but I will love myself. I’ve been blessed with this baby and will not mess it up. Just know sweet little baby that you will always stay in my heart. I want you to always tickle my heart with your dancing and brighten my soul with your sweet songs.
Love, Lacey
Tears spilled onto the letter. The words released me from my prison of shame. I folded the letter and tucked it into an envelope to place in our safe at home. One day my lil’ meatball growing in my tummy would know the journey its parents took to be healed and together as one. I plopped onto my back in the garden as my storage of tears continued to escape my fractured, yet healing, person. I released a soft sob while clutching the envelope securely to my chest. My heart still ached for that baby and always would.
Actually, my whole body still hurt for that sweet, little soul that was ripped from me. It had no chance of survival from conception. My thoughts were going to deep and dangerous places when a quick flutter of color caught my attention. Angling my head to the left, I spotted a beautiful orange and pink butterfly on the green leaf of the tomato plant in our diminishing fall garden. An eerie wave of peace reverberated between me and the butterfly. A stare-down took place, and it was as if the butterfly was enticing me to only have happy thoughts filled with color. A rose color. It suddenly sailed from its leafy perch to rest on my tummy. I strained to lift my head to watch the mysterious winged creature’s adventure. The urge to talk and focus on the color of the butterfly overtook me, and without thinking, I started to speak to the gorgeous beauty,
“You know, they all say I’ll be okay and that I will make a great momma. But remember this: I’m never gonna get over you. Never.”
The rose petal colored butterfly fluttered up to my face and hovered for what seemed like an eternity. I let the marvelous creature dance around my face as it twirled in the light breeze. It was the most amazing show I had ever watched in my lifetime.
“Baby?” I whispered to it.
The butterfly delicately touched down on my nose for a slight second, and then vanished. My heart was pounding erratically with curiosity while chills ran up my spine, freezing me in place. My deep, cold tears disappeared with the butterfly. The light-hearted breeze remained in the garden.
The blush pink color underneath the wing of the butterfly stamped a burning, lasting impression on my brain, heart and soul. That was my baby telling me it was okay. The beautiful flash of pink reminded me of a rose. A simple, delicate rose. Rose.
I knew in that instant, that the meatball growing in my womb was a girl, and her name was Rose. My Rose, who would always be full of life, thirsty for knowledge and surrounded with endless love would have a happy home. I would be her caregiver. No, I would be her momma. The butterfly in the garden would be my secret memory for the rest of my life. Tripp would have to wait and play the game of the expecting parent.
I needed to express my feelings in words to show my babies just how dearly I loved them. My hands found my abdomen and started to gently rub in small smoothing circles. I didn’t want our baby to ever think or feel like they were a mistake. It was time to introduce myself to the little meatball growing inside me.
Letter #1
To My Little Meatball—
Well, today I found out you are in my tummy. I’m scared to death, if I am being honest with you, and I will always be honest with you. When you are a teenager, you probably won’t appreciate it much. Your daddy, who is a gentle gorgeous Beast, is thrilled. He has kind and caring hands that will always protect us from the evils of the world. And he will be the kind of dad who will always be there for you, no matter the circumstance. Even if you are wrong and fail miserably, I promise to you that your dad will be standing in
your corner, because he is just that kind of guy. I want you to remember that the best gift I will ever give you is your dad. Cherish him with all you have. Oh, and you will learn to put up with me.
Here’s the deal, you keep growing and I’ll keep eating. Deal? Deal.
Love,
Your Very Nervous Mom
I closed my neon hot pink notebook as Tripp entered the garden.
“Why are you laying in the garden?”
“Just makin’ memories, baby,” I smiled up at him.
Tripp pulled up a piece of garden and laid down next to me. With his arms propped up behind his head, he silently stared up into the bright, blue sky. I twisted my head to watch him stare up into the heavens. His face told the story of his happiness and love for life. Tripp was my anchor and savior all wrapped up in a heaping, muscular body. My body knew that simple fact, so it instinctively curled up into his side.
“What are you thinking, Beast?” I asked as I raised myself up to shower kisses along his very prominent jaw line.
“Nothing,” he mumbled.
“Liar.”
Tripp lifted his head to look down at me. “I’m thinking I’m the luckiest motherfucker alive.”
That’s one thing we have in common: we don’t sugar coat shit. Rehab couldn’t even fix our mouths.
“What do you want…a boy or a girl?”
“Of course, I want a boy. I need a little stud to train up,” Tripp replied as he grabbed my hips and hoisted me on top of him.
“What do you want, Princess?”
“Duh, a Princess to train up to kick ass.” Lowering my head, I tenderly kissed Tripp’s lips and whispered, “Thank you.”
“For what?”
It was time to shower my husband in praise for everything he had given me. Tripp will never know how much he had truly anchored me, and simply saved me, from my personal hell I was burning in.
I bent down and placed a very simple, yet sweet, kiss on his lips.
“Being my anchor.”
Kiss.
“Being my husband.”
Kiss.
“Feeding me.”
Kiss.
“Turning me into a Princess.”
Kiss.
“Knocking me up.”
Kiss
“For my garden,” I said as I placed a deep, long kiss on Tripp’s lips, savoring his taste.
“And for never giving up on our love,” I murmured without leaving his lip.
“You’re welcome,” Tripp mumbled into my mouth.
Then we celebrated the conception of our lil’ Meatball in the middle of our over-grown, lush garden.
Chapter 18
Corn Cob…
Lacey
We waited three weeks for our first doctor’s appointment since finding out about Meatball. Tripp had been relentlessly reading and studying up on pregnancy and all the side effects. He had freakin’ read that What to Expect When Expecting book probably five times and ran down the list of milestones each night before we went to bed. The other night I finally slung a shoe at him to make him quit. The man was driving me fucking nuts.
Earlier that morning Tripp was in a foul mood, reminding me of his temperament when he originally arrived on the farm. Came to find out his mood had to do with his dad. During his rehab, his parents disowned him forever, slicing an enormous gaping wound across Tripp’s vulnerable heart.
On the way to the doctor’s appointment, I texted Milly nasty pics off of Tripp’s phone. I swear, all our boys do is text nasty jokes and pictures to each other all day. I stumbled across a text to his mother. Just like an eager little boy with the goal of pleasing his parents, he had shared the good news with her. There was no response from her. His father responded.
Dad: Congrats on bringing another fuck up into this world. Leave us alone.
Tripp didn’t respond to the text, and it took every fiber of self-control in me not to lay into the heartless bastard. In that moment, I wanted to fly to Florida and flog the ever loving shit out of the heartless motherfucker. Why was he so horrible to my Beast?
Tripp would have gave anything to just feel an ounce of his father’s love. You would think losing one child in a horrific accident would open your eyes to loving the only son you had left. Instead, he chose to push Tripp away and belittle the fuck out of him.
After reading the horrendous text, I looked up at Tripp. He had his jaw clenched and his sunglasses were hiding the pain in his eyes as he quietly drove us to the doctor’s.
I gently placed my hand on his leg and said, “I love you now and forever, Tripp.”
Tripp smiled and visibly relaxed with my words.
“I don’t care what your father says. You are going to be an excellent poppa, and I’m going to be a fucking hot momma. We’re gonna screw up together and enjoy every single freakin’ ass minute of it. Just promise me that you’ll never contact him again. Please? Baby, it’s not fair to you,” I finished as tears started to roll down my cheeks at the thoughts of the cruel words spoken to him.
I never wanted to see Tripp hurt. He didn’t deserve the ugly pain that his father inflicted upon him.
“I promise, Princess.”
“Good! Now quit being a dick and cheer the fuck up. I’m about to get a corn cob stuck up my hoo-haw to see just how knocked up I really am.”
“Oh my god, Lace. You’ll listen to Milly and her stupid-ass descriptions, but you never listen to the real facts I tell you.”
“I listen to yours, but Milly’s are so much better,” I said as I leaned over to place a kiss on his cheek.
My tongue took an extra lick of his stubbly cheek. My taste buds would never get enough of Tripp’s scrumptious flavor.
We spent an hour and a half in the doctor’s office getting grilled with questions, prodded and poked with needles and handed piss sticks. And, oh yeah, I basically had a corn cob shoved up my vayjayjay and it was determined that my Meatball would be arriving approximately on March 27th. I guess typical appointments don’t last for hours, but with my history, extra precautions were taken.
The sound of Tripp rubbing his stubble and tapping his pencil while drafting up our farm’s fields and new produce stands had been my favorite sound in the world up until that moment. The sounds of Tripp had been the sounds I thought of when I woke up and the sounds that put me to sleep every night. It was the sound of my love for him. Now we both had a sound that bonded us together forever. A sound that was us put together, multiplied by infinity, forever melding the two of our lives together. All the good in us, and all the stubborn in us, put together to make one unique, beautiful sound. The sound of our Meatball’s heart singing to us poured out into the tiny room as Tripp and I simply sat still. It was just a sound, but one that changed everything.
Tripp told the doctor everything about my past and explained to him that we were scared shitless about losing the baby. Dr. Wyman spent thirty minutes assuring us that my womb looked healthy, and basically the perfect place to grow a kid. Dr. Wyman was down to earth, non-judgmental and very comforting to us first timer parents. I’m sure he could tell that we were a bundle of worries and nerves. We made our appointment for next month and left there extremely happy parents of a healthy little Meatball.
Letter #2 to Meatball
Hello There, Lil’ Meatball!
It’s me again! I’ve decided to write you a letter each month. Sorry the first one was so blah. Now that the sticker shock of being knocked-up has worn off, I can now explain how I truly feel.
#1 You make me puke every morning at 7:06 A.M. Your dad has tried to feed me crackers to stop the puking—didn’t work. He also tried Sprite, taffy and some voodoo oil shit—didn’t work. I just vomit my inner stomach out every day and yell at your dad, “This damn kid better be cute!”
By the way, I’m your mom, Lacey. Your dad is Tripp. He’s the gorgeous Beast I mentioned in my last letter. You’ll love him.
We went to the first dr. appointment last week. It was simply amazing and
kind of made up for all the puking you’ve been making me do lately. We’re still arguing over finding out what you are. I know that you’re my little Rose, but Daddy doesn’t know and is dying to find out. Your Aunt Milly told us we have a while to argue.
Please just let me enjoy pizza for dinner tonight. We are going to show the family your very first pictures. I know they’ll all be excited to see you even though you look just like a little bean! The cutest little black and white bean I have ever seen, though. Your daddy looks irresistible today and wants to feed me some ice cream, so I better run. Don’t make me toss it, kid!
Love,
Your Very Pukey Mom
Chapter 19
My Castle
Lacey
I guess you could call it our reception, kind of, in complete opposite style and very overdue fashion. That’s what you get with Mr. and Mrs. Fitzpatrick. Nothing is ever normal. We were all out at the local watering hole celebrating and I declared it our reception. Everyone was super sensitive to Tripp’s and my sobriety. Hell, I just wanted to go dancing with my husband, and with Tripp’s sexy ass swinging me around the dance floor, alcohol had no chance getting any of my attention.
“Hey, pretty girl. Wanna dance with your hubs?” Tripp asked as he forced my body back up against his chest.
Without saying a word, I whirled around, embraced my Beast, and started to dance with him.
A romantic country song filled the smoky bar. Tripp swayed to the music, bringing me along for the ride, which basically made my body float with his. Not many know this, but Tripp had the sexiest, smoothest singing voice. He began singing “Anywhere With You” by Jake Owen to me. My eyes instantly shut and I drank in all of his promising words to be with me forever, no matter the circumstance and no matter the place, he would always be with me. By the end of the song, I was wasted on Tripp and his profound devotion to me.