I made two trips to Santa Fe, and before the first one, I had an ultrasound and the doctor said Charlie and I could find out the baby’s sex if we wanted. We weren’t sure if we wanted to know. It’s one of life’s great surprises, yet modern technology and the urge to decorate a nursery before the baby arrives, along with the lure of curiosity, have made this information hard to resist. Charlie and I compromised. We had the doctor write it down on a piece of paper and put it in an envelope, which we then stuck in a drawer at home while we debated whether we wanted to know ahead of time. We lasted only a few days before we opened the envelope and found out we were having a girl. I was ecstatic. I told my mom right away. “I can’t wait to buy pink everything,” I said, sounding as giddy as a little girl myself.
I finished the movie, we got past my mom’s first surgery, and then the holidays came and went. Christmas was spent with my parents during the day and Charlie’s in the evening. We did a lot of driving, and those hours spent on the road might have been symbolic as we hit a couple bumpy roads in our relationship during these months. They were little things that I assumed couples go through. I chalked it up to stress and sensitivity. I was worried about my mom, Charlie was distracted with his new show. I was pregnant. We were getting ready to be new parents. It was an exciting time, but one filled with change and challenges.
I looked forward to decorating the nursery. With our house still mostly done in bachelor-pad black, I had a feeling this oasis of pink, as I envisioned it, was going to be my favorite room—and it was. I put a calming pink color on the walls (Benjamin Moore paint #883), hardwood floors with a beautiful rug, a crib, a changing table, and a twin bed with mermaid-themed bedding. It was pink galore, a little baby girl’s fantasy room. No, make that a thirty-two-year-old girl’s fantasy room. I loved it. Everything was set for her arrival.
Like many first-time moms, I may have been a little overzealous. I thought I needed everything imaginable for a baby—and needed it right away. I soon learned how simple a baby’s needs are. They don’t need all the fancy-schmancy stuff. Now I tell first-time mommies to keep it simple: diapers, bassinet, onesies, and a lot of love. My best advice? Relax and enjoy every moment.
Charlie and I had one last major detail to figure out—her name. My favorites were Lilly and Stella, something girly and feminine. Charlie had his heart set on Sam. Not Samantha. Just Sam. I wasn’t easily sold, and we were still debating it when I had my baby shower. Mindy Weiss hosted the shower at the Hotel Bel-Air, and when my mom, Michelle, Charlie’s mom and his sister, and all my friends arrived at the all-girl luncheon, they were each given a pastel-colored baby block with their initial on it. Toward the end of the shower, which was festive and fun, Charlie showed up and noticed three blocks were left over. Guess what the letters on them spelled? S-A-M. I kid you not. “How can you argue with that?” asked Charlie. Laughingly, I couldn’t.
Charlie had named his angel.
2
TO CHRONICLE THE advancing stages of my pregnancy, we took photos of my belly from the side. The progress was unmistakable. As I headed into my final few months, everything I read about in the stack of books on my bedside table was coming true. I couldn’t see my damn feet. It was the weirdest thing. And trying to shave my legs was incredibly difficult, an exercise in stretching and contortion. “Thank God I’m really flexible,” I’d tell my mom and sister. I continued getting my bikini wax; my sister thought I’d lost my mind when she heard that newsflash. It’s painful enough under normal circumstances, but pregnant, whoa, it’s a new level of horrendous! You’re incredibly sensitive down there, but as I explained to Michelle, I didn’t give a shit. I’d rather suffer through that few minutes of pain.
I also had a dark line down the center of my belly. I still have no idea why there is a dark line, and let me tell you, it takes a long time for it to go away. Another side effect of that little peanut getting bigger was major heartburn. My mom warned me, but it didn’t make the burning sensation any more tolerable. Just drinking water ignited that irritating fire in my chest. Thankfully, it went away as soon as the baby was born.
Such pleasant stuff, right?
It got better. We found out I needed a C-section. Having been present when my sister gave birth naturally, and having watched the baby come out of her, I wasn’t terribly disappointed at skipping a vaginal birth. No matter which way the baby came out, though, it was hard to imagine—and scary. The doctor picked Wednesday, March 10, as her birthday; Charlie was going to be on hiatus; it was also the day closest to my actual due date when the doctor scheduled C-sections. However, as he said, it was really up to Sam.
In anticipation of the big occasion, Charlie informed me he’d gotten me a special commemorative gift and had it engraved with Sam’s scheduled birthday. I told Mr. Organized that Sam might not be born on the tenth. “What do you mean?” he said. “We scheduled it on the tenth.” I laughed. “It’s not really up to us,” I said. “She could come earlier.” He thought I was crazy.
On the morning of the ninth, Charlie and I completed the paperwork for the hospital and I had my final checkup. The doctor said everything was fine and normal and he’d see me the next day. Stupidly I hadn’t mentioned during my checkup that I didn’t feel quite right. I chalked it up to nervousness, and when my doctor asked how I was feeling, I said, “Fine.” For our last night as a couple, Charlie and I had planned dinner at our favorite restaurant, Giorgio’s, and I was looking forward to the meal. Until then, we were just hanging out together.
But as the day progressed, I started to feel worse. At one point, I was on the phone with my mom and told her to hold on because I was having a stomach cramp—or so I told her. Now, I know better. It was a contraction. I was in labor. I was also in denial. I have a high tolerance for pain, and I thought I could suck whatever it was up, get through the night, and make it until our scheduled appointment in the morning. Why the stubbornness? Maybe some of Charlie’s obsession with sticking to a schedule had rubbed off on me.
After Charlie saw me struggle down the stairs, he asked what was wrong, and I had to tell him that I was having seriously bad pains. His face went white when I said they’d been going on since early morning, but had recently increased in both frequency and severity. He called the doctor, who told him to bring me in right away. To Charlie, that meant get in the car and go. As far as I was concerned, though, right away meant after I took a shower and washed my hair. Again, I don’t understand my thought process. Nor do I know how I made it through the shower and shampoo. I had to sit on the floor while I blew my hair dry. I was in such pain the dogs stared at me with concern. I can’t believe I thought I could make it through the night. I guess I desperately wanted to make sure Sam was born on the tenth and Charlie’s gift was engraved with the real date. A part of me thought maybe this was all in my head and I wasn’t really in labor. Chalk it up to irrationality. By that point I just didn’t want to have the baby in the car.
Charlie sped to the hospital. Since we had not taken any Lamaze classes, we had no idea what to do. Every time I winced through a contraction, he told me to “breathe!” I barely heard him. I withdrew inside myself and dealt with the pain rolling through me. I’ll tell you, though, it’s amazing more men aren’t injured during those moments. Contractions are a pain I have never experienced before. Women are not exaggerating when they say this. It’s bad, and this is coming from someone who had her chest cut open a few times. This was painful. Charlie dropped me off in front of the hospital, then parked the car and probably had a cigarette to calm his nerves.
Inside, I was quickly admitted and taken to the maternity floor, where a nurse hooked me up to a monitor and confirmed that I was in labor. I was relieved. It wasn’t all in my head! My contractions were six minutes apart. Charlie was asked to step out of the room while I got an epidural. The relief was quick, but let me tell you, what an odd sensation. When it kicked in, I wasn’t able to feel my legs, and I hated that. For a split second I thought, what if that nev
er wears off? It was a little scary, scary for the fear of the unknown. I had never had a baby before and was experiencing all of this for the first time. I thought, if it was that bad, women wouldn’t keep having children.
As they wheeled me into the operating room, I glanced over at my husband and thought he looked sexy in his scrubs. I actually wanted him to bring them home. Just before 11:00 p.m., our daughter was born. Sam J. Sheen—her middle initial stands for both of our moms, Joni and Janet—weighed in at a healthy seven pounds three ounces and sounded delighted to have arrived in this world. In one of my most vivid and happiest memories, Charlie intercepted her as the doctor handed her off to the nurse, to show his parents, who were waiting outside. It was too soon. She wasn’t even properly cleaned, weighed, and swaddled. But he was so excited and proud of his “little princess,” as he called her.
My mom and dad came up the next morning. I overflowed with joy as my mom met her new granddaughter; she was so happy. My mom loved being a grandma more than anything else in the world. The moment I held my baby daughter for the first time, I felt a love I had never before felt. It’s different from loving your husband, or boyfriend or girlfriend. I can’t explain it. It was magical! In those first few hours and days you are simply the happiest person on the planet. At least I was. I spent four days in the hospital recovering from my C-section and nursing the baby. Charlie slept there every night, too, and seeing him with our baby made me fall more in love with him, and he voiced the same. We were parents, together. We were a family, not just husband and wife but a family of three. During the day, he went home for a bit, and always with a baby blanket we stole from the hospital (I’m sure we actually paid for it). All the books said if you have dogs, bring home a blanket with the baby’s scent on it. We had the dogs sleep with it to get used to her smell.
Charlie and I were both ready when we finally got the green light to take Sam home to see her new room and meet her furry siblings. Our initial adjustment to family life was marred by an unexpected glitch. Throughout my pregnancy, friends repeatedly advised us to hire a baby nurse. Charlie and I were far from incompetent or unprepared; in fact, we were at the other extreme, overprepared. And truth be told, I was against hiring any help. I was breast-feeding and unsure what a nurse might do. I was confused by this.
But people were so adamant about our needing a baby nurse that we were scared to not have one, especially Charlie, who was sold on the idea the first time someone mentioned the nurse would stay up all night to make sure the baby breathed normally. I had to remember I’d married a man who had a bulletproof bedroom door and a fire pole in the closet for an emergency escape. He was always prepared for a disaster.
Even though my mom stayed with us for two weeks, turning that time into a heavenly, much-treasured experience by cooking for us, getting up in the night with Sam and me, talking to me as I nursed my baby, and bringing me water and pretzels (nursing made me thirsty and hungry), we still hired a baby nurse. I had to put Charlie at ease. The nurse was from Brazil, and I wish I had good things to say about her. But on her first night with us, she sat on the twin bed across from me as I nursed Sam and stared at me while flipping through magazines. I didn’t like having her there. I’m not that shy with my body, but this was such an intimate moment of me bonding with my daughter that I felt self-conscious.
The next night, she came in and went to bed. She actually got into the twin bed in the nursery and went to sleep. I hadn’t even put the baby down in the crib for the night. Charlie was pissed. We had hired her to watch the baby to make sure she was breathing all night. How was she going to do that if she was sleeping herself? We also found out she wasn’t a licensed nurse. That was it for her. Two nights. She was so fired.
After a couple of weeks, the three of us settled into a nice routine. Charlie was back at work, and I handled mommy duties. Every day was a new adventure, with hours spent marveling at my baby girl as she ate, slept, and stared up at me with large, inquisitive eyes. Night feedings didn’t bother me; I loved that quiet time with her. It was special. I’d tell every new mother to savor these moments. I know it gets exhausting, but it sure does go fast. I knew I wouldn’t be able to get that time back so I really enjoyed it.
One thing that I wasn’t prepared for were night sweats. For me, the sweat was out of control. I couldn’t believe that much water came out of my body. My hair would be soaked when I woke up in the morning. It was disgusting, but part of the process—and it eventually passed.
The human body is amazing, especially a woman’s body. At times during my pregnancy and then post-baby, I was amazed at what your body can go through. A new life grew inside me, my body expanded, the baby came out of me, and then I provided nourishment. Talk about miracles.
I felt good for having taken care of myself during my pregnancy. Among the more pleasant surprises was how quickly I began to lose the thirty pounds I’d put on during my pregnancy. Nursing helped. Because of the C-section, I couldn’t exercise for six weeks, but I didn’t feel like hitting the gym yet. I was too damn tired, and I wanted to deal with other issues first.
3
ALTHOUGH CHARLIE DOTED on Sam, which I adored seeing, I hated that the two of us continued to encounter bumps in our relationship. We started experiencing these bumps more frequently, and I wasn’t sure why.
I think a lot of women can relate to how, when things aren’t quite right in your relationship, you blame yourself. It can affect your self-esteem, and that’s exactly what happened with me.
A progression of incidents, which I won’t go into in detail, started to make me feel vulnerable and confused. Then, a couple months after having Sam, I received an offer from Playboy. It wasn’t the first time they’d asked me to pose in the magazine. As I mentioned earlier, I began hearing from them as soon as I finished Wild Things. But this time was different, and I thought maybe I should say yes.
Why was it different? I had various reasons. I wanted people to see that a woman could still be sexy after having a baby. I wanted my husband to think I looked sexy. I wanted to feel sexy myself. I was starting to feel insecure and thought maybe this would help. In addition, I said to myself, “One day they aren’t going to ask you, so you might as well do it now.”
Before responding to the magazine, I asked Charlie. At first he didn’t express much support, but after talking to me and thinking about it, he changed his mind, explaining that as a longtime fan of the magazine he’d be a hypocrite if he said no. Had he objected, of course, I would’ve turned it down. But as soon as he offered his support, I accepted the offer. Then Playboy surprised us by asking Charlie to take the pictures. I wasn’t sure, but I thought the last time that might’ve happened was when John Derek famously photographed his wife, Bo.
Although flattered, Charlie declined, good-naturedly explaining he couldn’t guarantee they’d be in focus. Privately, we also thought it might be too intimate, though I have to admit, once I was committed, a part of me thought it would be cool if Charlie was the photographer. How great to have your husband show you off that intimately to the rest of the world, or maybe that wouldn’t be so great. Regardless, the pictures needed to be in focus, so we decided not to have him do it.
Anyway, I went with the photographer the magazine recommended and then had numerous meetings about the shoot. We worked out the details (no vajayjay), the concept (beach), the location (the Bahamas), and the wardrobe (not much).
In the meantime, I booked a Lifetime movie, I Do (But I Don’t), with Dean Cain, an old friend of mine from when I was starting out and had a tiny part on an episode of Lois & Clark: The New Adventures of Superman. I wanted to shoot the movie first to give me some time to lose my baby weight (I had ten pounds to go!). With Sam only three months old, I had mixed feelings about going back to work sooner than I anticipated. At the level where I was at in my career, a longer leave would make it that much harder to get a job. My agent advised me to get back to work, so I did!
Charlie and I still didn’t have a
nanny. So I had to figure out how I was going to film a movie without a nanny. My mom visited often and helped me, and I took Sam everywhere. Unfortunately, my mom wasn’t physically ready after her surgery to go with me to Montreal for the movie, but I thought, I’ll handle this myself, and I did for a short time. I couldn’t believe how much crap I had to pack for me and the baby!
Thank God Dean was on my flight. A good daddy himself, he helped lug some of my bags as we went through customs. I had my arms full with an infant. Once settled and on the set, I felt good about being back at work. I love the job, I love acting, I love focusing on a new character, and I love the camaraderie of the cast and crew. It was a welcome escape from the issues at home—and having my daughter there made me even happier.
During filming, I set up a Pack ‘n Play next to me and prayed Sam would not cry during a scene. Since I still nursed, I had to double up on the breast pads to prevent any leaks on my wardrobe. (Sorry, it’s the truth.) Between feedings, burpings, spit-ups, cries, naps, and dirty diapers, and clean clothes, I juggled a lot between takes. I finally realized I needed help. When Charlie got a break, I asked him to give me a hand, and he brought our housekeeper and left her there when he had to go back so I’d have an extra set of hands. He ended up flying back and forth several times.
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