Chill Out, Josey!

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Chill Out, Josey! Page 22

by Susan May Warren


  The next four hours were a blur. I do know that Sveta and Igor, my driver, arrived, as did Caleb and Daphne—who did some serious making up while I was bringing life into the world—and Maggie Calhoun and her husband, Dalton. It’s important to tell you that Dalton used to work in Germany, and thus was on the phone to the neonatal hospital in Hamburg in between his calls to the SOS flight company WorldMar hires for emergencies.

  Which, because they thought I was such an early delivery, I was.

  But I’ll get back to that.

  Luka did an outstanding job. Even with his crazy wooden stethoscope. I finally got to ten centimeters. Someday, when you’re ready, I’ll go into more detail. Or maybe not. Chase and Luka carried me to the birthing table. I kept thinking about Jasmine’s cool birthing bed and how I didn’t have that—until I started to push. Then I just thought about pushing.

  I’m telling you, babies are miracles. They are born with a scream that you feel all the way through your body. And a rush of relief that wrings you out. And all you can do is marvel.

  Luka put little Junior in my arms. Incredible. Junior squirmed and screamed, red and wiggly and perfect. Chase kissed the little guy on the head and beamed at me, his eyes moist.

  And then I heard Luka say, “Oy.”

  Oy, in Russian means something like, oh no. Or oops.

  Yeah, not a good word.

  Luka scooped Junior out of my arms and handed him to a nurse I didn’t notice before. Then he looked at me with a sort of strange expression and said, “Ne Vso.”

  Which translates to, “Not all.”

  Yeah, me, too. I was thinking, what’s he talking about?

  Until the next contraction hit. And again, I had the urge to push. I panicked, Chase was beside himself, Jasmine had her mouth open and Luka growled, “Davai!”

  Push?

  So, well, I did.

  Little Josey Junior was born three minutes after her big brother. And she cried, healthy and hard, just as we cried. I think Luka even teared up.

  Luka rushed them both down to the neonatal unit, where they weighed in at an okay 2.3 and 2.4 kilograms, which translates to 5.0 and 5.2 pounds, respectively. That’s over ten pounds of baby in there. No wonder I was the size of a barge. Which gets me back to the due date. They’re thinking maybe I got pregnant on our wedding night, or thereabouts.

  Which makes sense, because well, I was pretty distracted that week, what with Jas having her baby, and the wedding.

  I’m also thinking that Luka owes me an apology for all that eye-rolling every time I stepped on the scale. And hello, shouldn’t somebody have noticed there was more than one bumpity-bump going on inside my belly? Here’s a good case for throwing out Socrates’s favorite stethoscope.

  Anyway, two hours later, an ambulance shipped Jasmine, Chase, me, Chloe and Justin, yes, those are their names—I named Chloe and Chase named Justin—to the airport and we flew out to Hamburg, Germany where there is a neonatal hospital.

  Have no fear, the babies are fine. As am I.

  Daphne and Caleb arrived yesterday with our suitcases. They’re out ring shopping today.

  And just because I know you care, yes, after the pain meds wore off, I told Chase exactly what I thought about his late hours, and the fact he missed my entire pregnancy. I made it easy for him to understand, using Discovery Channel metaphors like the loneliness of the Serengeti Desert, the resourcefulness of Survivorman and even the rather brutal mating habits of the Siberian tiger. He got it. And took it like a man. He’s now in full war reparation mode, filling my room with flowers and chocolate and giving me hour-long foot rubs. And although WorldMar offered him a position at the office in Minneapolis starting in September, he’s promised me to be home by dinner—and to bring it with him. That is, unless we decide to stay, on account that WorldMar had the contract renewed.

  Here’s the part that I want most to tell you. Remember when you told me that Chase and I would figure it out? And asked me the rhetorical question if that was what marriage was all about?

  I have some answers for you.

  I think marriage, and pregnancy, and life for that matter, is more than that. I do think it’s about working it out together, but I also have a hypothesis: marriage is one of the ways that God reveals His love, through the good times or bad.

  My friend Caleb said something to me when I first arrived. About experiencing God’s love in a new way. An unexpected way.

  I didn’t believe him.

  But I’ve discovered that God’s love is in the sun setting in a fiery haze behind tall apartment buildings. It’s the scent of lilacs in the air in spring. It’s caviar instead of pickles, and meeting new friends in your drawers. It’s someone believing in you despite your faults, and liking Chase’s Scary Pants, and making a turkey, and Igor kissing Sveta. It’s Jasmine making pastries on both sides of the ocean, and being mistaken for a Bus Lady so I can feed a bunch of babushkas bread.

  It’s babies cooing as I feed them. And Chase holding his children, his eyes shining, as he says, “You’re incredible, G.I.” I can’t believe that I ever thought he would leave me. I blame it on the four billion lost brain cells.

  The short of it is this:

  I thought I had to do it all right—be June Cleaver or near it, and create the perfect life to make sure that Chase, or even God loved me. Turns out, Chase loves me just because I’m his girl. As does God.

  And I know this because after I got clear of Russia, and roaches and even the panic over the twins’ birth, I realized, over a strong cup of real coffee, that God’s love has surrounded me this year, on all sides—in the depths of despair, and the heights of my insanity, when I ran away from Him, and when I longed just for a hint of His touch in my life. He’s loved me in ways I didn’t even realize. Having Chloe and Justin, I got the smallest taste of that incredible love God feels for me. Perhaps that is what it means to know God’s love, not just understand it. And to be filled with the measure of God, himself.

  Knowing all this changes me, how? Well, first off I don’t have to work so hard to make things right. I can overflow the bathtub, look like a manatee or even fall on my face with a watermelon and God will still love me. He’ll even turn it into something okay. Secondly, being in over my head is a good place to be.

  So, H, here’s the best marriage advice I can give you: Put your dreams for you and Rex into God’s hands. Because He loves you.

  Chase just arrived. He’s brought me a decaf mocha from the coffee shop across the street. He’s smiling, and I can see a twinkle in his eye from here. And right behind him, Daphne and Caleb are wheeling in the babies’ bassinets. I can’t believe I got so lucky.

  I know I’m a dreamer. But this time I mean it.

  I have the perfect life.

  See you soon!

  Josey

  STEEPLE HILL BOOKS

  ISBN: 978-1-4268-1045-9

  CHILL OUT, JOSEY!

  Copyright © 2007 by Susan May Warren

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the editorial office, Steeple Hill Books, 233 Broadway, New York, NY 10279 U.S.A.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  This edition published by arrangement with Steeple Hill Books.

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  Susan May Warren, Chill Out, Josey!

 

 

 


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