January 27th
I can’t do it.
Ainsley
I’m sitting in bed, my sore feet up on a pillow. This month has flown by. Yet, at the same time, every day seems like it’s gotten longer.
Three weeks ago, we were all in Phoenix for Damon’s playoff game.
If the team had won, they’d have gone on to play in the National Championship game, but they didn’t.
They lost, their opponent making a field goal in the last seconds of the game.
The only nice thing is that team went on to win the whole thing, so we ended the season ranked third.
Work is fun, but it’s starting to feel like a lot. Really, everything feels like a lot. Work, designing our house, even bending over. Tying my shoes.
Summer keeps growing. I keep growing. I’ve gained ten pounds in the last week alone.
My phone rings just as I’m about to start crying.
I take a deep breath, pull myself together, and answer. “Hey, Damon.”
“Hey, Champ. Whatcha doing?” he says, sounding all chipper.
“Nothing really,” I say.
“You sound upset. What’s wrong?”
“I’m starting to feel like I don’t know if I can do it,” I reply.
“Do what?” he asks.
I rub my hand across my temple. “Oh, let’s see. Design a hotel. Design a house. Give birth. Be a mom. Do it all myself.”
“You don’t have to do it all yourself,” he says. “We’ve already talked about this. In fact, the reason I called is because I just talked to Jadyn about the house. I wanted to see what I could do to help. She suggested that we don’t do it all.”
“Not build all of our house?” I ask, thinking he’s an idiot right now.
But then that makes me sad. Because he’s my idiot, and I love him.
Most of the time.
I just don’t think it’s fair that he gets to be all fit and gorgeous while I just keep getting bigger. And it kind of pisses me off, to be honest.
“Not decorate all the rooms. I know you picked out the wall, trim color, and floors for the house. She thinks we should finish each room, but not add other decor or furniture. That way, when we have more kids—”
“I’m never getting pregnant again,” I state, looking down at my swollen piggy fingers. I haven’t been able to wear rings for weeks.
“Okay, well, until we decide how we want to use them for Summer.”
“And what rooms do you propose we do that to?” I say while rolling my eyes.
“All the guest rooms, one of our closets, and the flex space behind it, along with the flex spaces upstairs.”
“That’s a lot.”
“I know, but Jadyn says you need to live in a house for a bit before you make big decisions. Like, we don’t have a home office planned for you, yet in the future, you might want one.
Or I might want one. We may want to combine two bedrooms to make an amazing playroom or a guest suite as Summer gets bigger. Stuff like that.”
“I guess that makes sense. Fine. That will help. Some. I still don’t think I can do it. Like be a good mom. And I think my brain keeps telling me that. And it’s scary.”
“Are you saying that your brain, which you control, is telling you that you won’t be a good mom?” he wonders.
“Yes, it is. Vividly. In my dreams. Last night, our baby got attacked by an alligator. One time, I dropped the baby down the stairs, and she bounced like a ball, like those really, really bouncy balls. And she was just bouncing on her head down each and every horrifying step. But when she got to the last stair, she flipped and landed on her feet.”
“It sounds like our baby is going to be extremely athletic.”
“That’s what you got out of my dream? I dropped our baby, Damon.
I dropped our baby down the stairs. Oh, and there’s the other one where I forgot about the baby and left her in the car, and when I came back, she was gone.
I wondered if I actually had a baby. Then I looked across the parking lot, and my baby was swinging on—like, you know the thing where you return your shopping cart, and there’s usually a sign on the top with the store’s name or instructions for returning the cart?
The baby was on the top of that. Up high.
It’s dangerous. And also, I left the baby in the car, by herself.
Anyway, I went to try to retrieve the baby, and she started flipping around the top rail, doing flips and shit like a gymnast, then spun off into a perfect ten-point, stick-it landing.
I don’t know what’s going on. Maybe she’s going to be a gymnast.”
He lets out a chuckle. One I don’t like. “That’s probably not very likely with our genes.”
“What?” I say, getting a little worked up about this. “She can be anything she wants!”
“It’s just that most gymnasts tend to be more compact. You don’t see too many six-foot gymnasts.”
“You think our daughter is going to be that tall?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. I’m six-six. You’re five-ten. Odds are, she won’t be short.”
“And what about the alligator? Our baby was going to be its snack because she had crawled away from me. Or maybe it’s that she would have preferred the alligator as her mother instead of me.
“And I don’t think I’m going to be able to actually give birth. And I think that’s going to be a problem,” I say seriously.
“What do you mean, you won’t be able to give birth? It just sort of happens, right?”
“Of course, for most people, it does, but in my other dream, the baby wouldn’t come out. And she just kept growing inside me, and then, well, I just obviously kept getting bigger and bigger. I could barely walk. My belly was, like, dragging on the street. I gave up, laid down, and hoped to die.
“Do you ever have dreams so vivid that they seem real?”
“You know, I go to sleep so fast that I just don’t remember my dreams. I mean, of course I’ve woken up with a bad dream or a good dream, but for the most part, I think the second my head hits the pillow, I kind of start dreaming then, and by the time I wake up, I don’t remember anything.”
“Well, you’re lucky then.”
“Do you really feel like you aren’t going to be able to be a mom? Or that you’ll have to do it alone?” he asks.
“It’s all I think about,” I say, breaking down. “I don’t know if I can.”
“The transfer portal is open for two more days. I’ll look into it.”
“You can’t do that.”
“Yeah, I can. If you don’t feel comfortable with our plan, then it needs to change. I’ll put my name in the portal and see what’s out there.”
“So, you can just, like, check it out, see what you think, but still play for Nebraska if you change your mind?”
“No, that’s not how it works. The second I enter the portal, things happen immediately. I would lose my scholarship. Lose my spot on the roster. And more than likely, I’d be denied access to our training facility, advisers, training table.”
“So, once you enter, it’s like you’re not on the team anymore.”
“That’s correct.”
“That’s harsh,” I say.
“Well, if someone doesn’t want to be here, why should they keep taking care of them?”
“And what happens if you decided to stay?”
“I could still go to school here, but it’d be entirely up to the coaching staff. I mean, I wouldn’t want me back. Going into the portal shows a clear lack of commitment.”
I let out a sigh. Again. “I don’t want you to transfer, Damon. I really don’t.”
“We can get a nanny,” he suggests.
“I might already have one,” I say. “I just haven’t met her yet, and I don’t know how I’ll ever leave our baby with a stranger.”
“How did you find the nanny?”
“You probably know her. It’s Jadyn’s nanny.”
“She’s amazing!” Damon says. “If we can get her, we should! That would be a huge help. Why would she be leaving them?”
“She’s going to part-time because the girls are getting older and going to school. And this fall, she would be available full-time.”
“I’m calling her the second we’re done talking. Trust me, we want her.”
“Is she hot?” I ask.
“What?” Damon says.
“Do you want to have a hot nanny and be like those actors who have affairs with them and then marry them?” I cry.
“She’s like part of the family. She’s in her mid-thirties. So, no, I do not want to have an affair with her.”
“Oh, okay then. Call her.”
“I will. Ainsley, it’s okay to have a lot of feelings right now. To be scared. I don’t have to give birth, but I’m scared too.”
“You are? Like, really?”
“Of course I am. You’re a good babysitter.
I’m a good older brother. But I’ve never been a dad.
Never been one hundred percent responsible for another person.
I’m worried about our plan. I’m worried about us being apart.
But at the same time, I think we can do it.
I think we will make it work. And just like always, when one of us is struggling or feeling overwhelmed, we’ll talk about it.
Figure out a way to ease that stress. We have to talk and be honest with each other. ”
“You’re right. I’ve been adamant about all this. I know it will work. I worry, but I also think we’re doing the right thing. I love you very much.”
“I love you too, Champ.”
“I’m not feeling like a champ right now. Do you know how much weight Jennifer gained with the girls?”
“I think, like, twenty-five, thirty pounds.”
“I stupidly weighed myself this morning. I’ve gained over fifty.”
“Do you feel fine?”
“Fine is … no, I don’t feel fine. I feel large and uncomfortable.”
“Which is normal. We only have four weeks to go.”
“I love how you say we, but we aren’t up fifty pounds. I am.”
“Talk to your doctor about it. You’re going in tomorrow, right?”
“Yeah. I will.”
“Now the other question. What can I do to help? Besides hire the nanny.”
“Nothing, and this makes no sense since I’m complaining about my weight, but I’m going to my mom’s and getting some of the chef’s homemade cookies and ice cream.”
“I’m sure that will help a lot,” he says softly.
“Thank you for talking to me. For even considering transferring. I appreciate it.”
“And I appreciate you.”
“Okay, night. I need food.”
“Sounds good. Night. I love you. I’ll see you this weekend.”
“I’m not sure I want to see you.”
“Why not?” he asks.
“A half of a hundred pounds is why,” I say.
“But it’s your birthday. The big twenty-three. We’re going to celebrate. Open presents. Relax.”
“Can relaxing be at the top of that list?” I ask.
“Straight to the top.”
“Okay then. Night, Damon.”