Chapter 2 #2
Then, the technician is pushing the wand into my tummy, hard enough to hurt just a little, especially considering I’ve drunk a liter and a half of water for this endeavor, and I’ll count it a blessing if I don’t pee myself.
“So, there is a baby…” she murmurs, and Josh lets out a little gasp as we train our gazes on the black-and-white screen. Miracle of miracles, there is a baby there—arms and legs, fingers and toes, bigger than the last time we saw him or her just a few weeks ago, now much more of a baby. A person.
“Abby, look.” Josh’s voice is full of wonder, just as it was the last four times we did this, and it makes me smile tearily. “They’re sucking their thumb.”
I make a small, choking sort of sound as I see that he’s right—a tiny arm, hand, thumb, and mouth, all working together.
Legs kicking. Heart beating. Every time, it’s a miracle.
It just seems… impossible, somehow, that life can go on like this.
That inside me, right now, there is a human being.
I once semi-joked to Josh that I felt like I was in Alien, taken over by this other being, but right now, all I feel is joy.
I had a lot of ambivalence about this pregnancy—my age, my stage in life, the plans I’d made for myself and my family that did not include a pregnancy or a fifth child—but right now, as our baby kicks inside of me, I am only thankful.
“So, everything is looking good…” the technician says slowly as she takes various measurements that mean nothing to me but are obviously significant. “Baby is measuring right on target and looks to be about eight ounces.”
Eight ounces of baby and yet I’ve gained fifteen pounds already. That I’ll never understand.
“And…” Josh glances at me before asking hesitantly, “would you mind telling us if… you know… you can tell if…”
“A boy or a girl?” The technician gives us both a look of tolerant amusement. “I can’t say for certain, but I’d be willing to place a bet that you’re going to be welcoming a little girl.”
“A girl!” Josh exclaims in wonder, as if he doesn’t have two already.
I understand his amazement. A girl… I can already picture her toddling around, hair like cotton candy, drooly grin, sticky hands outstretched…
all right, maybe I’m imagining that cute girl from a Pampers ad, but still.
Knowing our baby is a girl makes it all the more real, in a good way.
“So, Jack might be bummed out,” Josh remarks pragmatically once we’re heading back home, the ultrasound printout in my purse.
I’m driving, since Josh isn’t up for it yet with his leg, and I glance at him swiftly before turning my eyes back to the road.
The rush-hour traffic out of Buckholt can be surprisingly intense sometimes.
“But not seriously,” I protest. I know Jack was hoping for a little brother, but surely he doesn’t have his heart set on one? Although knowing Jack… no, he’ll get over it. Of course, he will.
Meanwhile, we have a little baby girl to think about. My stomach swirls with wonder and excitement, and yes, a few nerves as well. I mean… having a baby is a big deal. I should know. I’ve had four of them.
Josh reaches for my hand, clasping it lightly before letting go. “You’re happy about this?” he asks, a lilt of uncertainty as well as hopefulness in his voice.
I know he has every right to ask the question. I was very obviously not that happy about this for some months, but it still hurts just a little that he feels he has to ask. I smile and nod, maybe even a little more firmly than I actually feel. This is still a process.
“Yes,” I say, and reach for his hand again. “Very happy.”
CHAPTER THREE
Gender reveal parties were most definitely not a thing when I was having my first four kids, but this time around, it feels kind of fun.
Josh and I are both excited to tell the kids the news about baby number five, and so on the way home from the ultrasound, we stop at Kroger for some pink balloons and birthday candles.
A couple of weeks ago, I told Cara, my manager, that I was pregnant. To be fair, it was getting kind of obvious.
She looked stunned, and after opening and closing her mouth a few times, remarked slowly, “Wow… I thought you were old.”
And I thought you were an infant, I almost quipped, but didn’t.
Cara may be a teenager, but she’s still my boss.
And to be fair, I am old, at least to be having a baby.
As my OB has told me more than once, forty-four is officially firmly in the geriatric pregnancy camp, which makes me feel like I should be hobbling into my appointments on a Zimmer frame.
Or maybe that’s Josh. Three weeks on from getting his cast off, he’s still walking with a limp.
In any case, I don’t see Cara or anyone I recognize when we buy the balloons and candles, then head back home for the big reveal.
“Well?” Rose asks eagerly as I come into the kitchen with my bag of pink contraband. “Did you find out? Is it a girl or a boy?” She clasps her hands to her chest. “Oh, I really hope it’s a girl!”
“I’m telling everyone at dinner,” I announce grandly, tucking the bag of pink goodies in a drawer of mismatched Tupperware I’m pretty sure none of my kids will ever think to look in.
“What!” Rose pouts dramatically, her hands now on her hips. She is definitely starting to get some tween attitude, and at only eight years old, it is a little worrying. “Mom…”
“No dice, Rose,” I tell her blithely. “You’ll have to wait for dinner along with everyone else.”
With a long-suffering sigh, Rose flounces off to the wood stove, where Ginger and Marmalade are curled up together, top to tail.
I semi-regret allowing the two kittens inside; three cats and a dog are a lot of animals to have underfoot.
I told Rose no more cats ever, but I’m not sure if she believes me.
I’m not sure if I believe myself. The kittens are awfully cute, even if they’re somewhat feral.
Soon enough, everyone is gravitating to the kitchen—William and Bethany home from work, Jack setting up a board game with my dad, and Josh, having finished a tutoring session—to see what everyone else is up to.
Meanwhile, I am baking a cake.
“Mom!” Bethany exclaims mid-diatribe about a customer who wanted samples of seven different essential oils. “You had your ultrasound!”
“I did,” I confirm with what I hope is a mysterious smile.
“Well?” Bethany asks with a touch of impatience. “What is it?”
“It is a baby,” Josh replies, putting his arm around me, and Bethany rolls her eyes.
“You know what I mean.”
“I’m telling everyone at dinner,” I say to them all, and am met with a chorus of groans.
I don’t really know why I’m making such a big deal of this; when we told five-year-old Jack that he was getting a baby sister, he burst into tears, so I am fully aware that this could all go horribly wrong.
It’s never a good idea to big something up that has the distinct possibility of falling totally flat, as things often seem to do when it comes to grand announcements.
And yet… I glance down at the cake batter I’ve been stirring. I want to have fun. I want to be excited. I may have started this pregnancy dragging my feet, if not downright kicking and screaming, but now? I want to make moments we can look back on and remember with a smile.
“Dinner,” I say firmly and am met with another round of groans, these a little more good-natured, or so I choose to believe.
Eventually, everyone drifts away to various chores or activities, and only Josh is left, picking the slices of red pepper out of the salad I made.
“Hey.” I slap his hand, sort of playfully, and he grimaces, sort of jokingly.
“Okay, okay.” He steps back from the salad, hands up in the air. “Hey, I invited Mike the Prepper to dinner.”
I stop slicing a cucumber to stare at him in surprise. “What?”
He shrugs. “I was putting the trash out earlier, and he stopped by in his truck and introduced himself. I told him I’d already heard about him.” He grins while I frown.
“I hope you didn’t call him Mike the Prepper to his face.”
“Who do you think I am?” Josh pulls an outraged face, his eyes dancing. “I told him you call him that.”
“Josh!” I know he’s kidding, but still. Our new neighbor owns a lot of guns.
“He seems nice,” Josh says. “Very friendly. He’s going to bring a salad to dinner.”
I imagine the kind of salad Mike will bring—field greens foraged from the woods, no doubt, chickweed and ramp greens, wild watercress, and who knows what else. It will probably be delicious; meanwhile, my kids, at least some of them, will struggle to so much as nibble on a freshly foraged leaf.
“When is he coming?”
“Tomorrow night.” Josh cocks his head. “That’s okay, isn’t it?”
“Yes, of course.” I don’t know why I’m so hesitant about having him over. Mike the Prepper is friendly. He’s just a little… intense. And I have a feeling he’ll lecture us on how to get ready for the apocalypse all through the meal. But then, I tell myself, it’s always good to be prepared.
As for being prepared tonight… I put the cake in the oven and surreptitiously make some pink icing, hoping no one wanders into the kitchen and notices the color. I’m probably making way too big a deal of this, but it really does feel nice to be excited.
By the time I’m calling everyone to dinner, they’ve all forgotten about the big announcement—typical—and so when I tell them they’ll know by the cake, I get a lot of blank looks.
“Know what?” Bethany asks as she spears a red pepper from the salad. What does my family have against lettuce?
“Whether we’re having a boy or a girl!” I exclaim, trying for jolly and sounding slightly exasperated.
“Oh… right,” Bethany says, and takes another slice of red pepper.
My other three children look at me with a sort of expectant indifference. Clearly, the moment has passed, but I’m determined to get it back.
“So, votes?” I ask as William and Jack start clearing plates, and I go to get the cake, which I iced in top secrecy. “Boy or girl?”
“Boy,” Jack states firmly.
“Girl!” Rose cries.
William and Bethany both shrug. I catch Josh’s eye, and he gives me a benevolently perplexed look—like, what are you going for here, Abby?
And I kind of get why he’s asking the question.
Then I realize I’m making this a big deal for myself, not for my kids.
I want—and even need—to be excited about this.
“All right, everybody.” I take a deep breath as I take the cake—It’s A Girl! written on top in rather shaky pink writing; I’ve never been about the aesthetics of baking—out of the pantry and with as much ceremony as I can muster, place it on the table.
Silence.
“It’s a girl,” I say helpfully, and Jack lets out a heavy sigh but does not burst into tears, so at least he’s matured in this regard since he was five.
Still, no one says anything, and I start to feel a little worried. “Guys…?”
“It’s weird,” Bethany says slowly as she stares at the cake.
“I mean, I’ve known you were pregnant since you told us, obviously, and because you’re, like, showing.
” She gestures to the baby bump that feels like it’s getting bigger every day.
I am very firmly in maternity clothes now.
“But I don’t think it felt really real, you know? Like, I’m going to have a sister.”
“Another one,” Rose protests indignantly. Bethany laughs as she reaches over to ruffle Rose’s hair. Rose ducks out of the way; she really is manifesting tween vibes.
“Yeah, another one,” Bethany agrees. “No one is forgetting about you, Rose.”
“I know what you mean,” William chimes in reflectively, his chin in his hand as he gazes down at the cake. The writing really is pretty shaky. Girl is looking more like Gill. “Like, an actual human being. Weird.”
To be fair, I know what both of them mean.
Even though I’ve had plenty of time to get used to the idea, it still kind of blows my mind that we’re having another baby.
Hopefully, the shock will wear off before this little girl comes into the world, so we can welcome her properly, with wonder rather than shock.
“Well, I wanted a brother,” Jack says on another sigh, “but I guess a girl could be cool.”
“We forgot the balloons!” Josh exclaims, and he half-hurries, half-hobbles to the laundry room and brings out the cluster of pink balloons he blew up earlier.
Bethany laughs, shaking her head. “You guys are so funny. Like, the fifth time around you’d think you’d be all chill about it, but...”
“Yeah, I didn’t get blue balloons when you found out you were having me,” Jack huffs, and William rolls his eyes.
“Dude, you would have been in utero. Do you think you remembered?”
Jack turns to Josh. “Did you buy blue balloons when you found out you were having me?” he demands.
“No,” Josh replies, laughing.
My dad, who has been watching this all unfold with a small smile on his face, shakes his head.
“Well, I think it’s wonderful,” he says, “and why not make a little fuss over baby number five? After all, as soon as she’s born, she’s going to have to fall in line with the rest of you, so I’m glad she’s getting the spotlight now, even if she’s not aware it’s happening. ”
“Thanks, Dad,” I say, glad he gets it. While the kids bicker fairly good-naturedly about whether any of them got gender-reveal balloons—they didn’t—I start cutting the cake.