Birthquake
Page 25
He looks to Leo, questioning his presence here. “Would you mind serving as their witness?”
“Uh … sure,” he says unconvincingly.
Thank you, I mouth to him in appreciation.
“Since we don’t have all of the formalities in place, maybe we can just hit the highlights, Father?” Jeff smiles.
A light flickers in Father O’Donnell’s eyes. He’s clearly amused by this whole scenario. “I suppose we can do that. Under the promise that you’ll take care of the license and come back to see me officially with your families?”
“Absolutely,” I say.
“Of course,” Jeff agrees. He comes to sit down next to me on the hospital bed with Lillian in his arms. She’s just as much a part of this celebration as we are.
Father O’Donnell begins with a short prayer before cutting to the chase. “I’m sorry, what were your names again?”
I giggle, realizing we never actually told him our names, just Lillian’s. “I’m Henley. And this is Jeff.”
“Ah yes. Okay.” He clears his throat. “Before you declare your vows to one another, I need to hear you confirm that it is your intention to be married here today. Henley, do you come here freely and without reservation to give yourself to Jeff in marriage? If so, please answer ‘I do.’”
I’ve never been so sure about anything in my life. “I do,” I repeat confidently.
“And Jeff, do you come here freely and without reservation to give yourself to Henley in marriage?”
“I do.” Jeff wraps one arm around my waist, trying to pull me closer to him and Lillian.
“Now, do either of you have vows prepared or…?”
“I can wing it,” I say to Jeff. Because if I’m being honest, all those nights where I couldn’t fall asleep because I had a baby bouncing on my bladder, I was running through one million and one scenarios of what my vows would be.
“Me, too,” Jeff says.
“Okay then.” Father O’Donnell gestures to me to look at Jeff.
I take a deep breath and look him in the eyes. I love the sincerity on his face and wish I had a picture to capture this moment. “Jeff, you are my light. You’ve shown me more love than I’ve ever known before. I promise to have the patience that our love demands, to speak when words are needed and appreciate the silence when they are not. I look forward to laughing with you and crying with you. Caring for you, and sharing with you. I love that I get to build with you and live with you. And I promise to be faithful to you all the days of our lives.”
Jeff can’t contain the happiness that takes over his entire demeanor. His smile illuminates the world and I can sense his heart is about to burst from his chest in genuine joy.
“Henley, the day I sat down next to you on that plane, my life finally took off. You gave me the kind of feeling that was instant, powerful, and utterly indescribable. Just like you. You’re indescribable. I promise to stand by your side, even when our legs are tired and broken. I promise to never sing America, the Beautiful to you.” He laughs knowingly which makes me blush. “And I promise that I will never be perfect. Because while neither of us is perfect, we are perfect for each other, and together, we share a perfect kind of love. And really, that’s all that matters. I swear to you that I will live each day loving you more than I did the day before. Thank you for allowing me into your life.”
We sit there in silence for a moment, savoring each other’s words.
“This is typically the part where you’d exchange rings.”
“Eh, semantics,” Jeff interjects.
“Okay then, by the power vested in me by God and man, I pronounce you husband and wife. Those whom God has joined together, let no one separate.”
Jeff looks at me desperately, his lips aching to taste mine, and in an instant, our mouths meet in perfect harmony.
Father O’Donnell laughs. “You may now kiss your bride.”
“Congratulations again, Henley.” Leo leans down and kisses me on the cheek before placing the pink teddy bear into the bassinet. He then turns to Jeff and exchanges another firm handshake. “She was the one who got away. Take good care of her, will ya?”
“I will. And I’m glad she got away.”
“I am, too,” he responds earnestly. “I never saw her this happy when she was with me.”
“That’s probably because you called her Fire Crotch and sang patriotic anthems at inappropriate times.”
Leo simply shrugs. “What can I say? I never claimed to be a good guy. But don’t underestimate the power of America the Beautiful when it comes to Henley.”
“Duly noted.”
Jeff follows Leo to the door and closes it behind him. That went significantly better than I ever imagined it going.
“So now what, wifey?”
“I guess we call our parents? I can’t imagine that’ll go over well. I got you a special surprise, Mom! How about a granddaughter and a son-in-law!”
“Hmm, you’re right. How about we keep this our little secret? We can tell them all about it later.”
I know how butt-hurt my folks will be, but the suggestion sounds perfect.
“Okay. You’ve got yourself a deal. This stays between us, hubby.”
“I like the sound of that.”
“Me, too.”
We both look around the room and soak in the peacefulness of Lilian sleeping in her bassinet.
“So … Now what do we do?” I imagine every new parent has had this thought at some point once they’ve gone through the traditional hospital to do list.
Jeff turns toward me with a mischievous light in his eyes. “This is our honeymoon period, right?”
“I guess technically it is.”
“You know what they say about honeymoons?” He wiggles his eyebrows at me.
I laugh uncontrollably. I swear this guy always has sex on the brain. “They say you have to wait six weeks—at least!”
“I’m counting down the days. Because Lillian needs a baby brother.”
“You’re just looking for another reason to joke about a penis being inside of me.”
Jeff winks. “I love you, woman.”
“I love you, too.”
PUTTING THE FUN IN FUN BAGS
We couldn’t have asked for a more perfect baby.
Lillian slept well through the night, only waking up a handful of times. Jeff was a champ, springing into action each time she whimpered to help with any diaper changing and fatherly duties. I’m crossing all of my cross-ables that this momentum continues when we get back home in a few days.
Knowing Jeff, it no doubt will.
Nursing Lillian appears to be going well. I have no idea if I’m doing it right. I actually have no idea if I’m doing any of this right. In fact, I’m convinced now more than ever that adults are just making their way through life faking it as best as they can because all of us are freaking clueless.
Lillian is in my arms nursing for what feels like the fifteenth time today, and I’m still resting in the hospital bed, thinking about everything that transpired. Lillian’s arrival. Freakin’ Leo. Getting married, even if it wasn’t technically legal. We’ll get those details sorted out soon enough.
All in all, it was an incredible day. One I won’t soon forget.
Jeff leans against the doorframe leading into our en suite bathroom. His hair is still damp, but he’s sporting a fresh set of clothes — something I’m longing for. This giant maxi pad I’m sporting could probably absorb the contents of the Mississippi River. I can’t feel anything south of the equator thanks to the ice packs they keep telling me to shove down there to help ease the swelling. But I’m terrified to put my own clothes on for fear of ruining them, and so the hospital gown and their glorious undergarments it is.
“Motherhood looks amazing on you, Henley,” he says with pride.
“Thanks. We’ll see if you still feel the same way when I’m covered in poop and spit up at two-thirty some random morning.”
“I’m sure I will.” He lea
ns down to kiss me but stops just short of my lips. “Whoa!”
“What?” Surely my breath isn’t that bad.
“Um, sweetie, I don’t know how to put this politely, but you grew porn star boobs overnight.” His eyes bug out, and I can see him practically roll his tongue back up into his mouth where it belongs. “Believe me, I’m not complaining! I’m just a little shocked, is all. Maybe even a teeny bit jealous that she gets to take advantage of them.”
I laugh heartily. “It’s not like she’s putting the fun in fun bags, Jeff. Besides, these aren’t the most comfortable things right now. I have no idea how Pamela Anderson and Dolly Parton function on a daily basis.” The girls are so big they will no doubt be getting in my way.
When Lillian’s done nursing, Jeff takes over burping duties, and I close my eyes to rest for a little bit as Ellen Degeneres prattles on about good deeds and dancing on the TV screen on the wall. I fall asleep to him softly singing Beyonce’s Single Ladies, but changing the lyrics to be Single Babies.
I wake up when the nurses are changing shifts. I feel like a brand new woman, even though it’s the same episode of The Ellen Show when my eyes open. It’s amazing what a tiny power nap can do for your body and mind. No wonder everyone says to sleep when the baby is sleeping.
“You have a visitor in the waiting room, Mom and Dad,” the afternoon nurse informs me while taking my vitals and going through my pain levels.
“Oh? Send them in, I guess.”
Jeff and I exchange a confused look. He shrugs. Clearly, he’s as lost as I am right now. But really, we don’t have visitors. Lillian does. But I wouldn’t have it any other way. She’s only a day old and so incredibly loved.
“Okay. I’ll let reception know.”
She disappears, and moments later we hear a booming, sing-song “Helloooooo!” from the doorway. Mr. and Mrs. Carrington thunder into the room with balloons and flowers and suitcases in tow. Are they moving into our hospital room?
“Mom! Dad! What are you guys doing here?” Jeff stands to greet his parents with a hug as they walk through the door.
“Are you kidding? We hopped in the car the instant we realized Henley was in labor and drove through the night.”
The comment strikes me as odd because we didn’t tell anyone we were at the hospital. Not even my own parents. Which reminds me, we should probably get on that before the Catholic guilt rears its ugly head.
Jeff furrows his brow and looks at me inquisitively. I subtly shrug to let him know this wasn’t my doing.
I sit up a little taller in the hospital bed and gingerly pass Lily to Jeff.
“Mom, Dad, this is Lillian.” Jeff smiles proudly as he passes our daughter off wearing a smile so proud it practically screams “Look at what I made in class today!”
Mrs. Carrington carefully supports her neck and instantly starts swaying Lillian to and fro in her arms. “Hi, sweetie,” Mrs. Carrington whispers. “I’m your Nana, and this is your Pop Pop, and the two of us are going to spoil you silly. So if these two knuckleheads ever tell you ‘no,’ you just call on us. We’ll make it right.” The pair of them beam down at their newborn granddaughter.
“She’s opening her eyes,” Mr. Carrington coos in awe. “She’s so beautiful and perfect.”
Jeff returns to my bedside and squeezes my hand. He leans down to kiss my cheek and then whispers out of his parents’ earshot, “I really have no idea how they knew.”
I nod subtly. “I do.”
Jeff raises his eyebrows and then the realization hits.
“Tara,” we both deadpan in unison.
Jeff grabs his phone and checks Facebook. Sure enough, my best friend had checked in at the hospital, tagging Jeff and me along with her. Below her comment of “OMG! FETUS CARSON-CARRINGTON IS ARRIVING!” is a photo of me, mid-birthquake, scowling at the twiggy Barbie doll behind the registration desk. To say I look possessed is an understatement.
“Dammit, T!” Everyone turns to look at me. “Sorry,” I mutter, unsure if I’m supposed to be apologizing for swearing in front of a newborn or because I was ruining a moment for everyone else.
I’ll deal with her later.
It’s heartwarming watching Jeff’s parents bond with their new granddaughter. We exchange little pleasantries about how I’m feeling and what the nursery looks like, but mostly the time spent here is silent with the exception of the obligatory ooh’s and aah’s that come with an infant that still has that fresh baby smell. It’s all very soothing.
“So when is the baptism?” I hear Martha ask just as I’m closing my eyes. That birthing shit was exhausting, and really, I just want to close my eyes and hibernate for a day or two or ten. But for now, I fake sleep, mostly because I’m interested in what Jeff is going to say.
Having Lily baptized is not something we’ve ever talked about since neither Jeff nor I have ever been truly religious people. Sure, I grew up Catholic, but that was mostly because I was never given the choice and the protest wasn’t worth the consequences. I always had the idea that the extent of Jeff’s religious education was his mother telling him, “You better pray that orange soda comes out of the carpet.” So it’s a little surprising that this is coming from his folks.
“Umm … uh. It isn’t something we’ve really talked about yet, Mom.” His voice is low, presumably not to wake his fake sleeping wife.
“Well, you are going to have her baptized, right?”
He sighs. “We’ll talk about it when we get home. I have no idea what I’m doing next week, let alone if we’re going to damn our daughter to roam the earth before being free of original sin.”
I have to admit, I’m a little impressed he even knew the correct terminology.
“Okay, okay. Where are Henley’s parents?”
“Um, we still have to call them.” His voice is sheepish.
“What do you mean you still have to call them?” his mother booms, and my eyes open wide so I can back Jeff up on this conversation. “Do they not know their grandchild was born yesterday?”
Martha looks from me to Jeff and then back to me again. Our silence is our confession.
“Seriously?” she admonishes, and turns her attention to her husband. “Honey, get me my phone. I’m calling Lisa.”
Shit.
THE GIANT TEDDY BEAR SUIT
“What in the hell is that?” Jeff asks as we pull into our driveway. I take my eyes off of our daughter for the first time during the entire drive home and look up at our porch.
Happily perched on the top step and blocking our front door is a giant eight-foot plush teddy bear that I recall seeing at Costco with Tara a few days ago. It is taller than any human I know, even in the seated position. A bright ribbon is tied around the bear’s neck in a perfect oversized bow, and it’s holding a banner that says “Welcome Home Baby Who is Not a Boy!” with “Sorry, Jeff!” scribbled in parenthesis underneath.
“No way,” I squawk at the unwelcome guest and try to contain my laughter. Visions of Lily sitting next to this fluffy beast flood my mind and the thought is downright adorable.
“Who on earth would actually buy one of those things?” he asks, looking at me in the rearview mirror.
I raise my eyebrows at him. Really? He’s really questioning who’s responsible for this little stunt? Does he not know who my best friend is?
“Okay, let me rephrase that. Why on earth would Tara buy one of those? And more importantly, how did she get it here without the assistance of a moving truck or forklift? That thing is fucking ginormous!”
“Shhh …” I remind him that we’re in the presence of impressionable ears.
Jeff pulls into our driveway and kills the ignition before turning toward me in the back seat. “Well, either way, your folks should be here shortly. I’ll have your dad help me haul it inside. But consider yourself warned, if I can’t get it through the doorway, I’m going to pull the stuffing out and wear it as a teddy bear suit and scare the crap out of unsuspecting people—including you.”
“Deal, but only if I can record it.”
Maybe with our luck, we’ll have another viral video on our hands.
Less than an hour later, my parents arrive with bags upon bags of clothes covered in little pink polka dots and sparkly tutus with the exception of a single green and orange cartoon dinosaur onesie that my dad picked out—you know, just in case everyone was wrong and Lily really is harboring a penis inside her diaper. But I don’t care. It’s so cute that I still plan on dressing her in it — screw gender norms!
By some divine intervention, my mom wasn’t pissed that I didn’t call her the instant I went into labor. As it turns out, she didn’t call her parents either until the day after I was born.
Like mother, like daughter.
I watch my mom make sweet faces and baby sounds at Lillian for no less than an hour. She even jumped right in and changed a dirty diaper, letting me relax on the couch for a bit. I guess there’s something about holding a newborn baby that turns you into a softie.
“So now that the baby is here, does this mean I get to plan a wedding?” my mother asks with a little too much hope in her eyes as she holds a sleeping Lily in her arms.
Jeff sits down next to me on the couch, and I subtly shake my head at him. Please don’t tell her. Not now. She’s in a good mood, and if we tell her that we sorta-kinda-not-technically got married without her there, I’m never going to hear the end of it.
“About that …” He glances at me cautiously. “Henley and I have started talking about dates that would work with the school’s schedule, and as soon as she’s feeling up to it, we’re going to take a look at some venues during her maternity leave.”
Damn. He’s good.
I reach out and squeeze his hand appreciatively.