Epilogue
epilogue
HE DIDN’T HAVE TO BE - brAD PAISLEY
OWEN - OCTOBER 29, 2013
T he last month has been a whirlwind of baby prep and making space in our already packed lives. With a small three-bedroom house, we’ve been shifting things around in Sara’s room, rearranging furniture, and squeezing in another crib and a tiny dresser for the new baby. It’s a tight fit, but Callie makes it work, the same way she’s managed to handle everything these past months—with very little patience, a lot of cursing, and the determination–or rather, stubbornness–I love so damn much.
We’ve been to what feels like a million doctor’s appointments, and every time, we leave with a new to-do list that just keeps getting longer. Callie’s beyond ready for this baby to make her debut, and I’m right there with her. Watching her try to find a comfortable position is like watching someone play an impossible game of Twister, except there’s no way to win. She’s exhausted, swollen, and done with being pregnant, even though she still looks like a fucking goddess to me. I’ve given more foot rubs in the last two months than I ever thought possible. I’ve always hated feet, but Callie’s are different—they don’t gross me out the way everyone else’s do. Never thought I’d be perfectly fine with something like that, but here I am, happy to do whatever she needs.
We’ve been trying everything to help her go into labor—fresh pineapple, room temperature root beer, long walks around the neighborhood pulling Sara and Barrett behind us in the red wagon. We even joked that after taking a picture of the two of them in the wagon, we’d have to recreate it every year.
And let’s not forget the sex—God, we’ve been going at it like rabbits on steroids, and I’m definitely not complaining. I did jokingly call her “Bunny” once and she didn’t much care for that. Guess I’ll stick to “Kitty.” Callie’s sex drive is through the roof; it’s like she’s trying to set some kind of record. She’s all over me, and I’m loving every second of it. Every time, she looks at me like I’m her personal hero, but honestly, she’s the real MVP here, growing a whole human while still managing to rock my world.
She’s got this glow, even when she’s cursing under her breath because her favorite sweatpants don’t fit anymore, or she’s waddling down the hallway like a penguin on a mission. I can’t get enough of her, swollen ankles and all.
But then there’s the reality check. Callie told me a few nights ago, in that quiet, tentative way she has when she’s trying to gauge my reaction, that Adam asked to be in the delivery room when the baby is born, and she’s going to allow it. She explained that he’s actually been somewhat civil since their divorce was finalized—no major fights, no drama. He didn’t even throw a fit when I moved in with Callie, which was a surprise considering how things used to be between them. Apparently, he and his new girlfriend, Katie, had plans to move in together as well, so I guess we’re all just trying to figure this co-parenting thing out in our own ways.
It shouldn’t have surprised me that she’d let him be in there—he’s the baby’s father, after all—but I’d be lying if I said it didn’t sting a little. I know it’s not my place to say anything; this isn’t my kid, and Adam’s been doing what he’s supposed to do as a father. Still, there’s this knot in my stomach that tightens every time I think about him being there for the moment Callie brings their baby into the world.
“It’s not that I don’t want you there,” she’d said, her fingers tracing absent circles on my arm as we lay in bed. “I do. I’d love for you to be with me during the labor, but when it comes time for the delivery, Adam should be the one there.” She made it clear, though, that Adam would have to stay up by her shoulder and wouldn’t be allowed to touch her in any way during the delivery. “I told him, no wandering down to the business end,” she added with a smirk, trying to keep the mood light. Then she glanced at me, a teasing glint in her eyes. “And you? Trust me, you don’t want to see that, Owen. There are things that happen during delivery you won’t be able to unsee.”
I’d nodded, doing my best to keep my face neutral, to not let her see the flicker of disappointment I couldn’t quite swallow. “Of course,” I’d said, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Whatever you need, I’m here.”
I meant it, every word. But the truth is, it’s hard. It’s hard to stand on the sidelines, to be supportive without feeling like I’m overstepping. I’ve always been the kind of guy who jumps in with both feet, who fixes things, takes charge. This is different. This is about stepping back, about understanding that my role here is to be the quiet strength in the background, not the main event. And I’ll do it, for Callie, because she deserves someone who respects her choices, who doesn’t make things about their own ego or insecurity.
But damn, if it doesn’t twist me up inside.
I’ve been trying to focus on the positives—Callie wants me with her through the labor, and that’s something. I’ll get to be there, to hold her hand, to help her breathe through the pain. And when the time comes for Adam to take over, I’ll step aside. It’s the right thing to do. It’s the fair thing. I keep telling myself that, hoping that if I repeat it enough, it’ll stop feeling like I’m being edged out of something that matters.
Now, as I juggle the new routine of having Barrett on weekends, it feels like another piece falling into place. Barrett started preschool recently, which means I’ve got him most weekends. It’s a juggling act—working four ten-hour days at West Haven, then picking him up at noon on Fridays. It’s hectic, but we’ve found a little rhythm that works.
Sabrina and I have an unspoken agreement about this schedule—it works, for now. She’ll have him if she’s got plans, but otherwise, weekends are my time with him. I look forward to those weekends more than anything because they allow me to have everyone I love most—Barrett, Callie, and Sara—together in one place. I’ve never been the picture of a perfect dad, but when I see Barrett’s eyes light up every time he spots me in the pickup line, it feels like I’m doing something right.
We spend our weekend mornings at the park, and I don’t believe I’ll ever get tired of hearing Barrett’s laughter as he repeatedly climbs the ladder to the slide, always ensuring that Sara is watching when he does.
After work, I find myself back on the porch, the sun dipping below the horizon, painting the sky with streaks of pink and orange. I’ve got a beer in one hand and my phone in the other, texting Callie because she’s babysitting for Taylor.
Me:
How’s it going over there?
I lean back in my chair, sipping my drink while waiting for her to reply.
Callie:
Busy, but good. The girls have been playing quite a bit and I don’t know if it’s just from me being up and around so much but I… uh… I think I might be going into labor.
The words make my heart skip a beat. I read them again, my brain scrambling to catch up. I sit up straighter, my grip tightening around the phone. Her due date is a week away. I shouldn’t be so shocked by her statement.
I feel my hands start to tremble as I type out a response.
Me:
Seriously? Are you sure?
Callie:
Pretty sure. Contractions started about an hour ago. They’re not super close yet, but… yeah.
I’m already on my feet, the beer forgotten on the porch railing. Thankfully, I haven’t even drank half of it.
Me:
Why didn’t you say something earlier?
Callie:
You were working and I didn’t want to worry you.
Me:
Can I come get you?
I run inside the house quickly to grab her packed hospital bag and her reply comes quickly.
Callie:
Yes, please. I’ll get ahold of Mom so she can watch the girls until Taylor gets home.
I need to text Adam too since he said he wants to be there when the baby is born.
My chest tightens, a mix of anticipation, nerves, and something else I can’t quite name. I’ve been preparing myself for this moment for weeks, but now that it’s here, it feels like the ground has shifted beneath my feet. I want to be there for her, to be what she needs, even if it’s just for the parts I’m allowed.
Me:
I’m on my way. I love you.
I hit send and grab my keys as I quickly head for the door.
As I drive, the streets blur past, my thoughts racing ahead of me. Callie’s about to have her baby, and all I can think about is how much I want to be there, not just in the room but really there, in every way that matters. I keep my eyes on the road, my hands gripping the wheel, and remind myself that this is about Callie and what she needs. I can be strong for her, even if that means stepping back when she needs me the most.