Ned and Matthew chase each other around the shallow end of the pool, throwing a Nerf football back and forth, barely catching it. It’s kind of a new thing for them, one they discovered practically by mistake. But it turns out that athleticism runs in the family.
They are strong and agile, tall for their age. Still, they know to be careful around the pool, and I see them glance at me out of the corner of their eyes every once in a while, as though we are all on the same page: they won’t get too much out of hand, and I won’t have to haul my giant body out of this chaise lounge to come over there and put that ball in timeout.
That’s for the best, because the sun feels wonderful. It’s gotten to where I can not even see my feet from here. Lying on the deck chair, the enormous globe of my belly blots out a generous percentage of my view. I don’t mind. It’s fun to watch this alien landscape swell and change every day. And even more fun to lie here and relax poolside, while the new life inside of me does such a complicated combination of gymnastics that I can actually see it from the outside.
Strange little bumps that roll past my belly button. Sometimes even the outline of a heel or elbow. It’s impossible to tell, but fun to guess.
I’ve been in this position for at least ninety seconds so now I have to move, of course. Any day now, our baby will be out in the world. These are the last few moments that I will be sheltering him or her in my womb. It’s been a magical experience… Except for the stretching, swelling, vomiting, wobbling, leaking, insomnia… Oh, you get the point.
I hear the sliding glass door open and Chance comes out, threading his way between Ned and Matthew with a tray in his hands. He walks over, smiling proudly, feasting his eyes on my giant belly before sitting down next to me. He holds out a glass of iced tea.
“Thirsty?”
“Constantly,” I answer, taking it gratefully. The glass is slippery and cool, dropping water in a trail along my belly as I bring it to my lips.
“You look amazing,” he smiles. “Feel okay?”
I smile and shift my weight, relieving pressure on my hip that suddenly seems unbearable.
“I feel fantastic,” I smile back.
“And little Bartholomew?”
I raise my eyebrows. “Bartholomew today? I thought you were sticking with Travis or Imelda.”
“Just trying it out,” he shrugs. “Bartholomew or Amethyst, I’m thinking. We could call her Amy.”
Moving didn’t fix the pressure, so I try shifting to the other hip, which involves rearranging my knees in such a way that I can hoist my belly over the tops of my thighs without actually propelling myself completely out of the deck chair.
“Amy is a good name,” I agree. “I still think that Francie was my favorite so far. Or Chuck. Chuck is a nice name for a boy.”
“Seriously? Chuck was your favorite boy name?”
Oh, my hips. I give up and try to manage some kind of pretzel-style sitting, with my knees out and Francie-tholemew floating in between. He or she seems to like this arrangement better, and I could tell by the rolling somersault that he or she does in gratitude.
Chance’s eyes widen. “I still can’t believe that doesn’t hurt you.”
I shrug. “Honestly, I think I’m going to miss it. What is it like to have no one kicking you in the bladder all day? How do you manage it? I have totally forgotten.”
He leans forward, laughing, and kisses me on the forehead. “Kind of boring, actually.”
“That’s what I thought.”
Somersault, somersault, backflip, swan dive. Then the baby seems to do the twist, and I feel a gush of wetness, a strange and sudden pop.
“What the...”
He arches back in alarm. “What? Did something just happen?”
“Ummmmmm, I am not sure,” I murmur.
Experimentally, I walk my hips back a little bit, swishing my belly back and forth slightly. As expected, every time my abdomen moves, little bit more liquid gushes out.
“You know what? I think you might want to get Jack.”
He jumps up immediately, nodding like a parade official. “Get Jack, got it!”
I hang out on the chaise lounge for another