1
Jamie
There was a time during my pregnancy when I considered myself a beached whale, but I take it all back, every single bit. In fact, I consider it an insult to whale mamas everywhere because I’m actually a Wooly Mammoth. A big, hairy, oversized mammal that sways when she walks, can’t shave her legs, and snores like a freight train when she sleeps because her son is pressing on every organ inside her body. That’s me in a nutshell. Ajay assures me I look normal, like any other woman in her third trimester about to give birth would look. I want to ask who he’s been spending time with because seriously, how the hell does he know that?
Also, I’m slightly irrational.
I cry at everything. I se
e a dog on television, tears. Evelyn tells me she loves me, tears. Ajay asks me if I want ice cream — as if I’d say no right now — I bawl. I’m nothing but a bubbling mess of emotions. I asked my lady doc why because I wasn’t this way with Evelyn. She said it’s likely due to my relationship with Ajay. She went as far as to say I’m harboring some ill will toward him for not being there when I had Evelyn. If she had balls, I would’ve kicked her in them. Who does she think she is, blaming Ajay? To make matters worse, I didn’t even tell her that he wasn’t Evelyn biological dad, she freaking looked him up on the web and figured it out for herself. Ajay suggested I switch doctors, but come on, I’m too close to the end to give her the satisfaction. Besides, men don’t understand that a woman and her lady doc have a special connection.
My son attempts to break free through my abdomen wall instead of opting for the normal, more natural way. I grimace, breathe in and out, and as gently as I can, push his fist until it no longer looks like I have a tumor growing out of the side of my belly. Today, I’m walking around the mall, trying to induce my labor. I’m a week or two out, but it’s time. I can feel it. This boy clearly plans to be the next Pele, Pete Sampras or Muhammed Ali. The way he kicks, punches and swings will rival anyone in the sports world. Of course, Ajay says he’s practicing his drumming techniques, but I disagree and so do my bladder and rib cage.
Most of the women who I pass by smile. They get it. They understand that I’m waddling for a good cause. They aren’t snickering as the mall walkers, most of whom are older than Evelyn can count to, huff and puff when they have to divert around my mammoth ass. They’re rolling their eyes and I’m giving them the proverbial finger. Oh yeah, those are fat sausages right now, too. I had to take my rings off which made me cry. I don’t want to be without my wedding band and wearing it around my neck just isn’t the same.
I love Ajay for loving me right now because I know I’m hard on him. I can be sweet and loving one minute, screaming the next. My mood swings are rivaled with that of a roller coaster. Up and down, twist and turn, flip, toss and jostle. And when all is said and done, I’m looking at him like he’s the problem. I blame the nameless boy and he put him in my belly.
There’s a bench a few feet away. It takes me five minutes to get to it. I need something to chuck toward it so no one else will take it before I can get there. Let’s be honest here, not everyone will give up their seat for a pregnant woman. They should, but they don’t. Knowing this, I waddle faster. I make my hips move as quickly as I can until my hand touches the fake wood. What’s even better about this spot is that there’s a table nearby. I heave my equally swollen feet on top of it and sigh. Finally, relief. The lady across from me looks at me like I have three heads. In my head, she’s getting the double bird. I’m tired, super fat, and have a small human growing inside of me. Or maybe she’s smirking at my shirt. Across my oversized boobs it reads, “Your Eviction Notice Has Been Served.” Ajay bought it for me, along with a dozen other shirts with ridiculous puns on them. They make me laugh, which tends to turn into tears. I love my husband. I really do. I love everything about him including the meat stick that caused this. I tell him this is my last baby; two is enough. He laughs and pokes me with his baby maker, thinking he can get me doubly pregnant.
I love him.
I do.
Even if I have to repeat it to myself, over and over to remind myself of that fact.
“I take it you’re overdue?” The woman across from me asks.
“Nope,” I say placing my hand on my stomach. I can feel him moving around and about to kick. “Although I feel like I’m about to burst. I’m hoping that by walking, it gets things moving faster.”
“Sex does that, sweetie.”
As if I didn’t know. Ajay read the book – he knows!
“My husband and I have five children.”
Good for you.
“This guy is our second.”
“Oh, we never found out with ours.”
“We wanted to have a reveal party with our family and friends, but the tech just blurted it out,” I say with a shrug.
“Oh, I’ve seen those. They seem cute. I probably would’ve done one, but they didn’t exist back when I was having babies.”
“Times definitely do change rather quickly.” The baby is starting to become active, which means I’ve rested as long as I should. I take a couple of deep breaths and push myself off the bench. The lady stands too and holds her hands out, almost as if she thinks I’m going to fall. I probably could’ve and am very appreciative of her for thinking so. I smile and tell her to have a good day.
Because I’m in a mall in California which seems to contain every store humanly possible, it’s always busy. From the moment the stores open and until they close, people are shopping. Unfortunately for me, there isn’t a better time for me to come so I find myself waiting for traffic to clear before I can shuffle my gargantuan body out into the masses. As soon as I do, I get side looks and stares, but what do I care? I’m on a mission to get this body ready for delivery… oh, bathroom!
I’m laid out in the kiddy pool when Ajay comes home from work. He bought this for me at an end of the season sale even though our subdivision has a pool. It’s been easier for me to plop into it to cool off rather than taking my golf cart down the road. I don’t sit out here all day, but just enough to cool down and then go back into the house where I have the air conditioner set at sixty — a far cry from the fifty degrees I had it set at during the summer.
He leans down and kisses me. Even though I look like Jabba the Hutt and feel even bigger, he hasn’t shied away. He rests his hand on my belly and our son kicks. It’s like he knows his daddy’s home from work. “I love you,” he says as he pulls his lips away. It’s how he says goodbye every morning before he leaves and how he greets me every time he comes back from being wherever he’s gone, even if it’s the store. It’s also the last thing he does before we go to bed at night. I can easily say I wouldn’t change this habit for anything.
“I love you,” I tell him in return. I silently motion for him to help me up and he does. I’m dripping wet, but he doesn’t care. He pulls me to his chest, his shirt soaking instantly.
“How’s our boy?” His hand is back on my stomach, waiting for another kick.
“He’s an…” I stop myself from saying he’s an asshole because he’s not. He’s just as eager to meet us as we are him. “Still practicing his karate skills.”
Ajay chuckles. “Drummer.”
“He can be anything he wants.” That’s what parents are supposed to say, right? Every day, Evelyn tells me she’s going to be something different. Just this morning she told me she’s going to be a princess and marry the future King of England. I told her to follow her dreams.
This makes Ajay smile. “Drummer,” he whispers against my lips. I have no doubt our son will be musically inclined. Evelyn already is and technically she’s not even Ajay’s. On the weekends, she will go to band practice with him. Quinn has been teaching her how to play the guitar and Ajay has her taking singing lessons. Not because he’s forcing her, but because she asked. It doesn’t matter what she asks of him, he does it. She has him wrapped around her little finger.
“Where’s my girl?” he asks as he helps me into the house.
“I’m right here.” I wink and try to shimmy, but in my overly pregnant state, it’s far from attractive.
“My other girl,” he corrects himself. “The one that calls me Daddy.”
I lean up against the counter and look at my husband. “I mean, if you want me to scream out ‘Daddy’, I can.”
Ajay turns red. Way back in the day, he probably would’ve said yes, but since he came into Evelyn’s life, she’s the only one he wants to hear it from until our son starts speaking.