Birthquake

by B. L. Berry

  And the moisture just barely below.

  Fuck. There it is.

  I pull the sheet up even further, tucking my head underneath, wishing the bed would swallow me whole.

  “Aww, it’s nothing to be embarrassed about, Henley. I just love that side of you.”

  I sigh. “I’m not embarrassed, Jeff. My boobs are leaking.”

  THE BEST DAY EVER

  We kept our word to Father O’Donnell and eventually came back to see him with our extended families. But under a slightly different precedence, and one that Jeff had to sweet talk me into.

  Okay. That’s a lie. There wasn’t much sweet talking required.

  “All of our family will be in town, so why not?” he had asked late one night while I was nursing sweet Lily in the glider in her nursery.

  I had absolutely no good response for him.

  He’s right. Why shouldn’t we? Why wouldn’t we? I’m not big on fanfare or even being the center of attention. And the little bundle in my arms gave me the perfect excuse.

  When we shared the idea with Father O’Donnell, he was over the moon and swore he’d keep it a secret to ensure we had the best day ever.

  He kept his word and then some.

  When I opened the double doors at the back of the church, I fought back some tears. The altar was flanked by two lush bouquets of lilies so fragrant that I could smell them from the doorway.

  “They’re perfect for a baptism. And even more perfect for a wedding,” Father O’Donnell said from behind me.

  “How did you …?”

  “Don’t ask. I’m a priest. I called in a favor. And one of the parishoners overhead that conversation and volunteered her services behind the lens, free of charge. It’s not much, but I hope it’ll make your day memorable — every bride deserves to remember the day she gets married. Needless to say, I’ll be saying a few extra rosaries tonight.”

  I quickly closed the gap between us and gave him a hug.

  “Thank you,” I whisper in his ear. I am so touched by his gesture. The world needs more kind, nonjudgmental people like Father O’Donnell. He easily could have turned the other way in the hospital, but he’s embraced our little family, imperfections and all.

  “Did you bring the license?”

  “Yes, Jeff has it. He’s parking right now.”

  “Good. I’ll give you guys some time. Let’s meet back in my office in fifteen or twenty minutes?”

  My cheeks hurt from smiling so much. Today really will be perfect. “Sounds good.”

  I retreat to the mother’s room at the back of the church to nurse Lily one final time before everyone’s arrival. I’m hopeful that she’ll sleep through everything. My parents enjoy telling the story about how I screamed like a banshee throughout my entire baptism.

  When she's done and fast asleep, I set Lily back in her carrier and walk out to find Jeff looking inside the sanctuary of the church from the double doors at the back.

  “Is everyone here?” I ask.

  “Yeah, I think so.”

  I do everything I can to reel in the nerves before he hears the quiver in my voice. I spin on my heel and give him a quick peck on the lips.

  “Do you think they have any idea?” His voice is as calm as still waters.

  “No … none.” I shake my head and try to fight my growing smile. Containing my excitement has become increasingly more challenging every day.

  “You ready to go, Momma?” Tara asks.

  “I am. And you?”

  “Yep. I still can’t believe you asked me to be her Godmother. I’m truly honored, Henley. I promise to keep all the corrupting to a minimum since the big guy upstairs will probably be keeping a close watch on me.” Tara kisses my cheek. She’s the closest thing I’ve ever had to a sister, and the only logical option for Lillian’s Godmother.

  “So about that …”

  Tara starts rummaging through her purse and pulls out her compact to touch up her makeup.

  “Hmmm?”

  “I have one more job for you today in addition to being Lillian’s Godmother.”

  “What’s that? Do you need me to run interference with Jeff’s family? Because I can totally take them on.”

  I laugh softly. “No, I’m wondering if you’ll be my Matron of Honor.”

  Tara jumps up and down like she’s just won the lottery, and I’m pretty certain one of her boobs is about to pop out the top of her dress.

  “Yes!! Absolutely, yes! When is the wedding?”

  Jeff catches my gaze from across the room and smiles at me. He’s talking with his brother Kyle right now, and from the looks of it, dropping the bomb on him with details of his new brotherly slash Godfather slash Best Man duties. My heart flutters and I look at the clock by the bathrooms.

  “Um, it’s actually in about three minutes.”

  “Exsqueeze me?” Her voice turns sharp.

  “We’re not here today for Lillian’s Baptism. Well, we are, but that’s not the only event.”

  “You can’t get married today! You don’t have a dress or flowers or any of that stuff you need to get married. And besides, I haven’t had the chance to kidnap you and whisk you away to Vegas for your bachelorette party! I heard that all brides-to-be get pulled up on stage at the Thunder From Down Under male revue. If you’re cute, they’ll let you cop a feel. And with your rocking swollen boobs you would totally get a free feel.” She winks.

  Ew. No thank you.

  “Tara, I don’t need any of that. Like you said, that’s all just stuff. The only things I need to get married are Jeff, my family and friends, and a license. Anything else is just gravy.”

  She opens her arms and pulls me into a massive hug. “Well, as your Matron of Honor, at least let me do one thing.” She walks over to the table by the doors to the main part of the church and plucks a few flowers from the oversized vase. When she returns, she tucks a beautiful white lily in my hair. Then she somehow produces a safety pin from her purse and attaches a second white lily to Jeff’s suit coat.

  She tilts her head to look at me with a satisfied expression.

  “There. It’s not exactly bridal, but it will have to do.”

  “Thanks, T.”

  “Yes, thank you,” Jeff chimes in, tugging at the lapels of his suit jacket. “You ladies about ready?”

  I nod and turn to gather our daughter. Lillian is fast asleep in the baby carrier, and I lift her out with the greatest of caution, passing her into her daddy’s arms. Jeff leans down and kisses her forehead delicately and my heart swoons at the sight. I loved him before. But seeing him like this with our daughter makes me fall in love with him all over again.

  Tara reaches out and takes Lillian’s hand between her two fingers. “You, little lady, you need to learn some etiquette. Don’t you know it’s in bad form to wear white to somebody else’s wedding? I mean, if you’re going to protest a wedding, you should really make it count. Like wear a black veil or set the church on fire or something. Really make a statement next time, okay? There is much you have to learn.”

  I love that she’s already imparting ridiculous wisdom upon her goddaughter.

  “Is everyone ready?” Father O’Donnell asks as he comes back to greet us.

  Jeff and I both nod anxiously. Tara and Kyle smile and exchange a quick glance at each other, then awkwardly introduce themselves. Just as we start to walk toward the double doors at the back of the steeple, Tara stops me.

  “Wait!” Panic and uncertainty flash in her eyes. “Before we do this, what am I walking into? Who all knows about your plan?”

  “Well, besides Father O’Donnell, us, and you and Kyle? Nobody. But they’re about to find out.”

  Her eyes go wide. “Seriously?”

  “Seriously.”

  Tara fights a chuckle at the back of her throat. “Your mom is going to be so pissed!” Father O’Donnell nails her with a single look. “I mean miffed. Your mom is going to be so miffed.”

  The priest smiles in approval, and I
simply shrug at her comment. “Eh. I just think she'll be annoyed that she didn't get to plan a wedding.”

  The ceremony was small and surrounded by our closest friends and family, exactly as I envisioned it. I have no need for elegant dresses and string quartets. Those aren’t what make a marriage work. But selfless love and humor and patience and empathy and passion do. And it’s a good thing we’ve got a surplus of those.

  Mom and Dad were utterly confused throughout the entire ceremony up until it was time for our vows. They thought the part after we baptized Lily was some weird new age shit. It makes me question when the last time they attended mass was. But when we began to recite the words we had written for each other, my mom gave an audible gasp causing everyone to turn toward her in stunned silence. She then proceeded to cry and run up to the altar to wrap both Jeff and me in one big mess of a hug. I love her, but damn she can be clueless sometimes. For all the grief about giving her a grandchild before a son-in-law, she barely noticed when I was giving her exactly what she wanted.

  Well, exactly what I wanted. Her happiness about the situation was the least of my concerns. But at least she made peace with it from what I could tell.

  And it was all kinds of perfect.

  After our “I do’s” and signing the certificate with Tara and Kyle, we head to our favorite Italian restaurant to treat our loved ones along with Father O’Donnell to a nice dinner. A low key celebration for a low key ceremony felt right. Nothing else really matters beyond those who are here with us now, and the last thing either of us needed or wanted was a party that costs as much as a down payment on a new home. I did spring for one minor wedding-ish detail though …

  Mostly because I couldn't help myself.

  On the round table in the middle of the room is a decadent, four-tiered Spiderman wedding cake, inspired by the original sketch that Jeff’s mom shared with me during our babymoon gone wrong. The bright red fondant frosting hid layers of red velvet and almond sponge cake. Elaborate black piping detailed Spidey’s web, and I even found a small figurine of Peter Parker and Mary Jane to adorn the top. It’s a surprise for Jeff, and far too much cake for such an intimate affair, but I don't care. He had dreamed of his wedding day longer than I had, so it was only fair to give him a piece of the dream. And did I mention I couldn't resist myself?

  But he’s beyond shocked that I was able to pull one over on him on such short notice. And I love how it reflects that there was nothing traditional about us or this wedding day. It took some time to realize just how important it is to love your own story. Even if it’s not some perfectly scripted traditional fairy tale, it’s still yours. It was a strange, unconventional path that led us here. But really, it wasn't strange at all.

  It was quite perfect.

  My heart skips a beat when I feel Jeff’s palm on my thigh, squeezing gently. “You look absolutely beautiful today. Today and every day, in fact.”

  I feel the heat rise in my cheeks at the compliment, and I realize that this man is what brings out the beauty in me. Even on my worst days, he finds a way make me feel my best.

  “Thanks, babe. You clean up nicely yourself.”

  Jeff leans over and softly presses his lips against my cheek, then buries his face in my neck inhaling slowly. It’s a gesture entirely too intimate for this crowd, and I can’t help but love it. He runs his nose across my jawline before stopping at my ear to nip my skin with his teeth. His hot breath sends a chill of anticipation down my spine. Jeff palms my thigh and squeezes oh so gently before sliding his hand up my leg, grazing dangerously close to the one place I want but can't have.

  Well, I could, but that would just be awkwardly inappropriate for everyone. I mean, there’s a priest here for crying out loud. I cross my legs and sigh, trying to stave off the desire that is building up inside.

  Jeff pulls back and nails me with his lustful, panty-dropping, mischievous smile. The one that always seems to get me in trouble. And his hand slowly tugs at the hem of my dress. “There’s something about weddings that makes me horny,” he says so softly that no one else can hear.

  “Oh, no you don’t,” I roar unable to control my laughter. That is exactly how we found ourselves in this perfect, beautiful mess in the first place. And I'd love for nothing more to enjoy this moment now, and that moment later tonight.

  Thankfully, he begins laughing, too.

  “You can’t blame a guy for trying!”

  I can’t.

  Nor do I want to.

  I smile.

  He smiles.

  And our whole damn world is perfect.

  Can we all just stop what we're doing and be honest for one goddamned minute here?

  Motherhood is some tough shit. Fatherhood, too. All of this is true for parenthood in general.

  But you know what?

  If you have kids or little ones you love so much you consider them your own*, I want you to know that you're doing a fucking kick ass job at it. Don't let anyone ever try to convince you otherwise.

  Even on your worst day when you forget it's your turn on carpool duty and Benny the hamster escaped his cage only to turn up dead in the washing machine and you completely lost your shit because you just stepped on a Lego that little Susie refused to pick up … even THEN, you're still doing great.

  Just remember that every parent under the stars has their highs and lows. I promise you June Cleaver lovingly uttered “Fuck off, you heathens!” under her breath to Wally and Beaver at some point.

  Sure, there are days where we all feel guilty for feeding our little ones processed food off of BPA-laden plates. But recognize you love that little kid enough to make sure they have food in their belly.

  And when you are so stressed out and angry that you have to step away from the situation and hide in the bathroom with a package of Oreos? You are smart enough to grasp the power of a “me moment” and how it’s essential and healthy for everyone at some point each and every day. And sometimes their lives depend on that moment of reprieve. (Plus sometimes you simply don’t want to share your Oreos.)

  And when you're having a rough day and feel like the world’s worst Mom, so you throw some cartoons on the TV and lock yourself in the shower to have a long, hard cry? You care so much that you don’t want your children to see how sad you are, so you give them some time with their favorite colorful characters.

  The point is, even when you feel like you’re failing, you’re doing a great job. Everyone takes their rightful turn behind the wheel of the proverbial struggle bus of parenthood at some point.

  I’ve been the mom-to-be in that holistic, hippy-esque birthing class.

  I’ve also been the mom who had an epidural within five seconds of walking into triage.

  I’ve been the mom to make organic purees for her children.

  And I’ve also been the mom who let her kid eat a Goldfish cracker off the dirty floor while shopping at Target.

  Don't worry, it didn't kill him.

  I’ve been the mom whose had her shit together and the one who runs to the grocery store in her pajamas because I simply can’t exist as a functioning member of society on any given day.

  And I’ve also been the mom who was so distraught after giving birth, that I didn’t know my up from my down and I was truly terrified of fucking my daughter up beyond comprehension. I now know that I had been exhibiting some of the signs of postpartum depression and truly wish I’d had a friend in that moment to encourage me to talk to my doctor about what I was experiencing. If you feel like you, or someone you love, could use a little postpartum support — don’t be afraid to reach out and ask for help from your doctor. You’re not alone. You’re a part of the league of extraordinary moms and simply reaching out to ask for help exemplifies your greatness and strength.

  But the beautiful part is all of these “moms” are perfect. And right. And doing what is best for their baby in that given space and time with what they’ve got.

  And that, right there, is motherhood at its finest.
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br />   There is more than enough competition out in the world, we need to stop comparing ourselves to the pristine images that litter magazines. And Facebook is this facade of what we want people to see rather than the reality that is our beautiful, disheveled life. And don't even get me started on Pinterest. Each time I log on I'm reminded just how gloriously I'm failing at life just because I can't repurpose a vintage towel rack into a wine bottle holder (look that one up — it's pretty amazing!).

  I guess what I'm saying is that as women, we are all on the same team.

  We need to spend less time judging each other and more time building one another up.

  So regardless of if you had a water birth or c-section or totally abused the little epidural button in between contractions like me, let's celebrate the fact that we are raising some incredible, tiny human beings.

  Keep on kicking ass, Mom.

  * Barring any abductions or cult families. Because that’s simply not cool, yo.

  It would be amiss to not start my acknowledgments by thanking the two tiny terrors in my life for making me a mom and giving me the fuel for Birthquake fire. Then again, maybe I should lead off by thanking my better half for being a stallion and knocking me up so I was capable of having all the glorious and heinous pregnancy experiences depicted in this novel? But if we’re going there, I may as well thank myself and my whorish tendencies. So thank you, Barb, for being the master of seduction and fertility. Your scandalous ways earned you some badass tiger stripes on your body and more pairs of mom jeans than you’ll willingly admit. But in all seriousness, my family rocks. You three are the source of love and humor in my life which means you are my everything. I’d be nothing without you. Where you walk, I walk … always.

  To those whose real life incidents inspired many a scene in this story … from breaking childhood bedframes to babymooning at their in-laws house to murdering a teddy bear to coping with postpartum depression … thank you for being so real and candid with me so I could create such a real and candid story.