Rhythm (16 page)

He stands and gets ready for something.
Oh, no, no, no.

“Tickle battle, here it comes!”

“No! Wait!”

He stops mid-tickle battle and frowns.
“What’s up with you being tickled? Is this a no-go area for
you?”

“Papa used to do that to me. I loved it.”

“Ah.” He struggles to find the right words to
say next. “Will you please allow me to make new memories from old
memories?”

I pull in and slowly release a deep
breath.

I nod.

He bites his lips as he absorbs my answer,
and then he tickles me.

I can’t breathe as I struggle for air. I
scream. I laugh. I cry. I think I’m going to die. And if I do, I’ll
die happy—so very, achingly, badly happy.

Rhythm

“I still can’t believe that you let Grant
wait for almost two freaking months, Rip.
After
your
wedding.” Lola reminisces as she touches my now five-month
tummy.

“Well, he—”

“Cruel. You are a cruel little monster, Rip.
Cruel,” L interrupts my rebuttal to address her point.

“Keep reminding me, L. I have the tendency to
forget,” I tell her with a touch of sardonicism.

She laughs her head off.

The fact that I wasn’t ready even after the
wedding is beyond me. Maybe because at one point before our wedding
day, I thought that one of the reasons (or more specifically, the
main
reason) Grant asked me for marriage is because he wants
our relationship to level up sexually. That it wasn’t just about
love, but more about sex. But then I look past it and married him
anyway, and on the morning after our wedding, I had the biggest
surprise of my life. Days, weeks, and a month passed and he is
still willing to wait.

Until
the day
finally came.

We were doing our usual bonding, the tickle
battle, when everything in me clicked.

It is normal for us to end up kissing
passionately after the battle, but that time, when we looked in
each other’s eyes, we didn’t have to say anything—we already
knew.

Boy, it was perfect.

And totally worth the wait.

I remember his words after we first made
love, which cause me to melt every time I think about it. Okay, so
here’s what he said. “I am willing to wait again if it means to
have that exact same feeling, Rip. It’s worth the wait.
You
are worth the wait.”

“Rip!”

I jump. “What on earth, L?”

“Jeez. I’m talking to you and you’re all
dreamy-eyed. Did you even hear a single thing that I said?”

“I’m sorry, L. My thoughts are just invaded
by happy memories.” A very happy memory, I must say.

She pffts. “Well, I won’t repeat what I
said.” She stands up and gets her purse. “I gotta go, Rip. Tell
Grant I said hi. Update me after your check up, okay?” She hugs me
and kisses me in the cheek, and then she touches my tummy once
again.

“Will do. It’s nice seeing you again, L. I’ve
missed you.”

Ever since Grant and I married—on our third
year anniversary as boyfriend-girlfriend—we already lived together.
We agreed to rent for a while here in South Carolina while we are
still finishing college. When we graduate, we’ll move to
Pennsylvania and raise our family there.

So Lola is left in our dorm, now with a
roommate she’s not comfortable with. That’s why she misses the heck
out of me.

Just a few minutes after Lola leaves, Grant
arrives.

“Hello there, hot momma.” He gives me a whole
line of kisses and smiles. “How’s my wife?”

“Better. Now that you’re here.”

“Were you feeling sick, honey? Tell me,” he
asks, doing a quick check of my whole body.

“No, love. It’s just that I always feel
better when you’re with me,” I assure him. “Lola said hi, by the
way. She just left.”

He breathes a sigh of relief. “Good. And how
is she?”

“Being Lola, as always.”

He laughs knowing full well what I mean. “You
need anything before we head to the doctor?”

I shake my head.

“Okay. Let’s go and have them checked.” He’s
ecstatic about this particular check up because we’re about to
discover the gender of our firstborns.

Yup, with
s.
We’re having twins.

---

We haven’t planned on having a baby yet, but
we are blessed with not just one, but two, only two months after
our marriage.

I can’t forget the moment Grant found out
that I am pregnant.

I haven’t been that attentive with my monthly
period that I was already two months late and still didn’t notice
it.
Who would forget about stuff like that? I would.
After
realization hit me, I decided to buy few pregnancy test kits, just
to make sure.

So I did one, two, three, four tests, and
then another. All positive.

I was overjoyed yet at the same time, unsure.
Unsure if Grant would want him or her because I remember him saying
that, “I want to have kids, but I want to enjoy you to myself for a
little while.”

When I asked him what he meant by ‘little
while’, he said, “Two, three years.”

But I remembered our first rule: be honest,
so that’s what I did when I discovered that we’re going to be
parents.

I didn’t know how to tell him, so I bought a
plain white shirt and let someone I know print these words:

You’re going to be a
DADDY.

In front and at the back:

I think.

I wore it while preparing for our dinner. He
was busy with something, though. I coughed to catch his attention,
and I did.

“Babe, are you coming up with something?
Drink some meds, okay?”

Well, that was not the attention I wanted,
but I let it slide as we ate and watched a movie. After my patience
reached a certain level that was not environmental friendly, I
forced him subtly to focus at my shirt
.
“Grant, do I seem
different today?”

He checked me out from head to foot and
grinned. “Love, all you have to do is ask.”

That was definitely not what I meant, but I
let him believe that it was.

As he was about to remove my shirt, his mouth
fell open; his face registered a look of shock and gave me a
questioning stare.

I smiled at him and I stood. I turned around
to let him read the rest.

“I’m going to be a daddy?” I couldn’t decide
which was better: a.) His smile while saying those, or; b.) Calling
himself a daddy? I called it a tie.

I nodded. “I
think
.”

“What do you mean you think, babe?”

“Well, I’m late and I did five pregnancy
tests and all came out with one result. Positive. But I haven’t
gone to a doctor yet. I want you to be there with me for my first
check-up.”

He squeezed his eyes shut. For a moment I
thought
this is not going to be fine
, but he hugged me tight
and kissed me passionately as if to erase all the uncertainty I
felt. “We’re going to the doctor first thing tomorrow morning,
Rip.”

I didn’t argue with him, I just let myself
drown with the bliss the moment brought. He was excited and happy.
That’s what mattered.

The following day, we arrived at the doctor’s
clinic twenty minutes earlier than scheduled. It was our discreet
way of saying, “We’re excited.”

“Good morning, Mr. and Mrs. Peterson. I’m Dr.
Cynthia Collins. Have a seat, please.”

Dr. Collins interviews us first then proceeds
to the ultrasound.

“Congratulations! Rhythm is 8 weeks and 4
days pregnant,” she said with much excitement as if it was her
first time to announce this kind of news. “Oh, oh! You have twins.
You want to hear their heartbeat?”

Grant and I looked at each other.

“Twins?” I asked, my voice trembling with
joy.

Dr. Collins nodded nonstop. “So, you want to
hear their heartbeat?” she repeated.

Grant and I nodded at the same time.

As she pushed some buttons, we heard sounds
that I believed were the babies’ heartbeat.

“The sounds you’re hearing are their
heartbeats.” Dr. Collins said, validating my earlier belief.

We couldn’t contain our happiness as we
listened to the most beautiful sound we have ever heard.

“We’re going to be a daddy and mommy?” Grant
asked, not hiding his euphoria.

“Of twins,” I confirmed, elated.

---

The moment of truth is here, three months
after my first check-up: the gender of the twins.

I’m betting on both boys, Lola on both girls,
Grant on one boy and one girl. Whoever wins will have the privilege
of having the last say on what to name them.

But whatever their gender, I feel truly
blessed to be an instant mom of two.

“Morning, Dr. Collins,” we greet her in
unison.

“How are you, parents-to-be?”

“We’re great,” Grant answers for the both of
us. “And you?”

“Ditto.” She exposes her upper teeth, giving
us a friendly smile. “You ready to unveil their genders?”

“Yes!” I respond, ecstatic.

After a while, we see the gender of Baby 1:
boy. Baby 2’s gender is still hiding in view. Then after patiently
waiting, it’s revealed.

Grant wins.

“Told ya.” He winks, quite pleased with
himself.

Grant

The twins are due this month. It’s been nine
months that Rip is beautifully pregnant, and I still can’t wrap my
mind being a father . . . of twins.

I am blessed to be able to join Rip for all
the check-ups, and every single time, it feels surreal.

Dr. Collins are happy with how the twins are
doing, healthy and all, that she doesn’t require for us to visit
her twice a week. She says it will be down to once, giving the fact
that she’s due any moment. I’m relieved that all is well with my
wife and my twins.

Rip and I are avoiding all the horror stories
of pregnancy and child labor and just focus on the positive stuff.
We both agree that she will do it naturally—no epidural, no
nothing. Of course, it took a lot of convincing me because hey,
she’s not just about to deliver a baby but
babies
. I don’t
think I can live with the fact that she will have to endure double
the pain a ‘normal’ pregnant woman will have to endure, but Rip did
all her homework to persuade me. She’s gone from Internet research,
which is, to put it mildly, her best effort because she’s not into
Internet—well, she doesn’t even own a laptop. And there’s this
interview she compiled with the women she knows from a friend or a
friend of a friend that has given a natural birth—some with twins.
She lays all the ‘benefits’ a natural birth has, but it wasn’t all
that which convinced me. No.

Avoiding horror stories about child labor is
possible, but when it happens to someone close to you, you can’t
avoid it, can you?

My cousin, Blaire, sister of Ben, gave birth
to her first child two months ago. Everything was supposed to be
okay because Dex, Blaire’s husband, saw the smile of his wife when
she finally heard their baby’s cry. But then the monitor goes
beeping and when he looked at her again, she still seemed smiling,
but there’s a faraway look in her eyes. That was it. She never had
the chance to carry her child. She was in a coma and been paralyzed
for almost two weeks and then nothing. Apparently, there had been a
complication because of the epidural that caused her death.

After I learned about her, I think a million
times if natural birth is safer because I know that not all births
with medicine go wrong and not all natural births go okay.

But one thing I know: I will trust in what
Rip believes best for her. After all, it’s her body, not mine. I’m
here to support her and love her in whatever way I can, so after
her last check-up, I told her that I agree about the natural birth,
only if she promised me that whenever she feels the need to have
the epidural, she have to tell me right away—even if she’s already
in the delivery room. She beamed at me as if I handed her the moon.
“I promise. Thank you, love,” she said.

---

“Grant!”

I’m dreaming of Rip playing hide and seek
with me.

“Grant!” she calls me again.

I get disoriented in my dream. I don’t know
if she’s the one hiding or seeking.

“Grant!” Why does she sounds irritated?

“Jeez, Grant, wake up!” I feel her small
hands shaking me.

I open my eyes and see that Rip is not hiding
nor seeking. I realize that her side of bed is wet. She peed.

“Honey, sorry,” I tell her with a mien of
concern. She always wakes me up in the middle of the night to help
her go to the bathroom because she cannot stand by herself anymore.
Her stomach is huge like she has eaten her one-year supply of food.
She can’t even see her feet when she looks at it while standing.
“Next time, punch me in the face when I don’t wake up right away.
Okay?”

I’m about to help her stand when she
winces.

“Grant, my water just broke,” she says it
with a voice so composed that it’s easy to disregard her facial
expression.

I breathe and count one to ten—then back.
“This is it,” I tell mostly to myself than to her.

“Yes, this is it.” Her voice is still even.
“Now, if only YOU’LL HURRY!” then she shouts at me. Not in a bad
way, but to make me focus on what is about to happen.

“Yes, right. Let’s get you settled. Are you
in pain? You think we still have time before they arrive?” I am
stuttering and honestly don’t know what to do first. Call Dr.
Collins? Change Rhy’s clothes? Grab the bags we have prepared? Get
the car out?

I don’t know how I managed it, but after some
bickering here and there with myself, we’re settled in the
hospital.

Dr. Collins emerges. “Hello, Grant. Hi,
Rhythm.”

We smile at her.

“You look good, Rhythm. There are several
contractions. I only know it because of the machine, but your face
that radiates . . . peace amazes me. Are you not in any pain at
all?”