Unsevered (8 page)

“Well, I have a vacation week coming up so I’ll be sure to call her and make arrangements. I’ve got to run. I’m on air in ten minutes. Talk soon, okay? Congrats,
Mommy.
”

I smile and hang up the phone to dial Chelsea’s number. I’m not sure why I called Gretchen first. Perhaps I thought she’d be the more excited one because she’s so family-oriented. But Chelsea was thrilled too.

“Hey Chels, what’cha up to?”

“Oh my gosh, I am slammed with business proposals and mergers. I haven’t eaten a thing all day, and I think I’m getting a freaking fever blister from all this stress. What’s going on with you?”

“Oh, you know, writing … hanging out on the beach … waiting for my next ultrasound.” I pause to give her a minute to catch up.

“Ultrasound. Are you okay? Did they find a tumor or something?” Chelsea is frantic.

“No, no tumor. It’s not cancer. It’s something they called, ‘pregnant’.”

“Jules! No way!” She screams into the phone.

“I know. It was a total surprise, but the baby and I are both doing well. In fact, I am scheduled to find out the sex in a few weeks. I’m going to do one of those 3D ultrasounds.”

“I definitely want to be there, if that’s okay with you,” Chelsea pleads.

“Of course. I’d love to have the three most important women in my life beside me when I find out.”

“Yay! Okay, I hate to run, girl, but I’m late for a meeting.”

“No problem. Call later?”

“You bet. I want to hear all the precious details. Talk soon, sweetie.”

I hang up the phone and sit on my bed staring out at the ocean and begin pondering baby names.

My thoughts are interrupted when Mom calls, “Ready to go, sweetheart?”

I grab my purse and head downstairs as my stomach delivers an angry gurgle at me.

“I hear you, baby. Let’s go eat,” I say back to it with a smile.

CHAPTER EIGHT

I
t’s been almost a month since I found out about the baby. Dr. Brooks is now my primary care physician. She’s great and really takes the time to listen to all my concerns, irrational as they may be.

I finally have comfortable clothes to wear during the day. Mom had insisted that I purchase at least a few maternity outfits to accommodate my belly in the last trimester. I had to ask her to explain what a trimester was. I didn’t realize that the pregnancy was divided into time periods. I told her I was certain yoga pants would suffice, but she wouldn’t relent and simply said, “Trust me, you’re going to get bigger than you think.”

Mom and Dan are kind enough to help me finally put all of Harley’s things away. We store some in the attic and donate his clothes and shoes. It’s not an easy process, especially with hormones throwing my emotions around everywhere these days, but I know it needs to be done. Harley wouldn’t have wanted me and the baby to feel sad every time we look around the house because we’re reminded of him. He was so excited about giving me this house. I know he wants me to enjoy it and be happy living here.

I mostly lay in bed, being catered to by Mom. At times, this annoys me, but it’s nice to have her around. We kind of lost touch after my parents’ divorce, but we’ve always had a strong bond, so I knew it was only a matter of time before we found our way back to each other. I’m so glad I
stuck around
to have these moments with her.

I’m getting used to the attention and feeling like her little girl again, but the laying around in bed all day is wearing on me. I try to get a bit of writing in. Of course, as it always goes, when I have time to write, nothing comes to mind. So I sit up and flip through my ‘What to Expect When You’re Expecting’ book. After just two chapters, I close it with a sigh at the realization that I have a lot to learn about this whole pregnancy thing.

As I turn to get comfortable in bed, I feel something flutter in my stomach. It’s as if I have a phone vibrating on it, but a little stronger. This worries me so I call Mom in to check.

“Mom, can you come here a minute please?”

“Sure honey, be right there.”

I’m freaking out because I have no clue of what I’m feeling. I take a look under the cover to ensure I’m not bleeding. Everything’s clear. Finally, Mom enters my room.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart? Do you need something?”

“Mom, put your hand on my stomach right here. I keep feeling this fluttering sensation. It doesn’t hurt, more like tickles. Do you think something has ruptured inside me again?”

Mom laughs and I’m confused.

“Honey, that’s the baby moving. Is this the first time you’ve felt it?” Her voice is calm and loving. Tears pool in her eyes.

“Yes, I haven’t felt anything yet. Does the baby have enough room to breathe?”

She laughs again. “This is completely normal. The baby has everything it needs from you, and plenty of space to move around, don’t you worry. It’s a wonderful thing. You just felt your baby move for the very first time.”

She holds her hands on my belly and feels it too. A smile paints her face from ear to ear.

Dan hears the excitement and his six-foot-three frame consumes my doorway in seconds. He’s a fairly good-looking guy. Not having any children of his own may have spared him from the gray hair my dad sports. He has an olive complexion and is fit for a man in his early sixties. Mom says the two of them run a mile each morning. She’s so much more vibrant and full of life than she was with my dad, now that I take the time to notice.

Dan moved in a couple of weeks ago, but seems to try to stay out of our way and let us women “bond,” as he calls it. He’s a nice guy and has been a tremendous help around here. He keeps the yard looking nice, fixes things when they break, and even goes on shopping runs to satisfy my crazy food cravings. I am certain this child is going to come out loving banana cream pie. I’m really glad he’s here and I have the chance to get to know him a little better.

My mom rubs my tummy and smiles back at Dan. “We’re fine. We’re all just fine.”

* * *       * * *      * * *

I
t’s a Thursday morning and I’m in the car with Mom, Chelsea, and Gretchen on the way to the 3D ultrasound to determine the baby’s sex. I’m just too impatient of a person to wait until the end. Plus, I want to know which colors to use when I decorate the nursery.

“How are you feeling?” Mom asks.

“My hands are sweating and my back is aching. I’m worried this child is going to get its foot caught in my rib cage any day now.” I squirm around in the seat to try and get comfortable.

Mom is driving and Gretchen and Chelsea are in the back seat, both scanning their phones for missed calls and emails. I think about how life is going to change between us once the baby comes. I’ve seen it happen many times. A group of close friends drift apart as one of them embarks on new adventures in parenthood or career changes. I hope it doesn’t happen to us, because I really need my friends right now more than ever. But I wonder what we’ll have to talk about. They’re already over me mentioning my books. I can just imagine how deep their eyes will be rolling when I’m describing my baby’s firsts and posting every smile on Facebook for all the world to ogle over. I guess I will just have to wait and see what happens.

“I’m glad you guys are with me today.” I say, pulling them away from their phones.

“Of course, Jules. We wouldn’t miss it,” Chelsea says, as she looks up then returns to her phone.

“I’m just happy you invited us. We were so worried about you for a while,” Gretchen adds.

“I know. I’m sorry about shutting you guys out after Harley died. I just had to deal with it in my own way, you know?”

The car gets silent as my friends pat my shoulders for reassurance. There’s really nothing more to be said about it.

We park the car and walk into the office to check in. The room is filled with other expectant moms, some bursting at the seams. I wonder how big I’m going to get and if I’ll be waddling like a duck everywhere I go, what little walking I’m able to do, that is. Dr. Walsh took me off of bed rest but told me to continue taking it easy.

The office is decorated in soft pinks and purples. I sit in a plush, caramel-colored chair and grab a pamphlet from the table beside me. They have one on every topic, from breastfeeding to vaginal implants. I even see one titled, ‘How to manage hemorrhoids during pregnancy.’
Say what?
  I’ve never heard about that being one of the symptoms. I make a mental note to read that chapter in my book when I return home today.

A lady in purple scrubs greets us at the door and calls out, “Ms. Decker.”

Mom, Chelsea, Gretchen, and I follow her down a hallway lined with photos of babies and pregnant women. The images are gorgeous and so lifelike. My pulse speeds up and the baby responds to my anxiety by turning flips. I pat my belly to calm it down. Man, I’ll be glad to find out the sex so I can stop calling my baby an ‘it.’

We enter a small room where the purple-scrub-wearing lady informs us that it will just be a few moments before we begin as she hands me a pink gown that ties in the back. My entourage remains in the hallway for a moment while I change, then gesture for them to come back in by tapping the door twice.

I take a seat on the reclining bed-chair and wait for the doctor to join us. The room is warm, but not too much, which is good because I’m always cold. There are more pictures of babies en-utero plastered on the walls, soft classical music is playing in the background, and a vase of purple lilacs are sitting on the desk beside the ultrasound equipment.

“So, have you thought about any baby names?” Gretchen asks.

“Well, if it’s a girl, I considered Abigail. It was Harley’s mom’s name. For a boy, I would definitely want him to have Harley’s name in there somewhere, but I haven’t decided what other name I like yet,” I reply.

“Well, you have tons of babysitters if you need us,” Chelsea adds.

“I may just take you guys up on that. I’m sure I’ll need a break every now and then, especially if I’m even half as tired as I am now.”

I place my hands on my lower back, not that it relieves any of the pain. In just moments, I will meet my son or daughter and butterflies are dancing a ballet in my stomach. Mom senses my nervousness and squeezes my hand as she throws me an endearing smile.

Before I can even gesture a “thank you” to Mom, a lady in a white coat enters the room and walks over to shake my hand. I estimate her to be in the late forties, perhaps even early fifties. For some reason this puts me at ease. I get the feeling she’s been doing this for many years. She has dark, tanned skin, brown eyes, and short reddish-brown hair.

“You must be Jewel. I’m Dr. Ansley and I’ll be doing your ultrasound today. I understand you want to find out the sex of your baby. Is that correct?”

“Yes, please. I am not one for surprises. Plus, my husband won’t be around to help me.” I don’t know why I felt the need to blurt that out.

“Oh, does he travel a lot for business or something?”

“No, he died in combat a few months ago.” I feel a lump in my throat as I speak these words, and immediately begin to think about Harley. For some reason, I go on to explain his absence, as if I need to defend him. “He would’ve loved to be here today, though I know he’d have given me a hard time about finding out the sex. I’m sure he would’ve wanted it to be a surprise.”

“I see. I’m very sorry for your loss. Sounds like you had a wonderful man.” Her eyebrows droop and I can detect the sadness in her voice, almost as if she knows the exact pain I’ve been feeling since Harley died. I don’t ask about
her
situation because I want this to be a happy experience, but I can’t hold back all of my emotion.

“The best.” I reply, as a single tear makes a slow path down my cheek. I wipe it away and inform Dr. Ansley that I’m ready to begin.

“Okay. Lie back and relax. Place your feet in these stirrups.”

My gown is raised and tucked under my breasts. A blanket is draped over my legs, beginning just under my tummy and extending all the way to my toes, so that just my tummy is exposed.

“This gel may be a little cold at first. I want to check the baby’s heartbeat before we begin.”

My ears tingle when that tiny little thump-thump fills the silence in the room. I am enamored by the moment, remembering the first time I heard it at my initial prenatal visit.
Thank God, still beating strong.

Then she begins to slide a sonography tool around on it, pausing every few seconds to click a button on the computer. I find out later that she was actually taking pictures of the baby during this process.

When the image of my baby pops up on the screen, I am filled with all sorts of emotions, mostly joy. I burst into a laughing-cry, hard to explain.

“Ah, we have a thumb sucker,” she says.

“Harley was a thumb sucker,” I give a tearful reply.  

Mom rubs my hand as tears flood her face as well. Gretchen and Chelsea are mesmerized by what they are seeing. A mixture of sniffles and laughter fills the room.

Then the doctor says, “Let’s see if we can get this little one to wake up and communicate with us. You said you’re about twenty-eight weeks, right?”

“Yes, that’s what I measured at my last office visit.”

She slides the tool around on my belly and presses gently on what appears to be the baby’s foot to get a reaction. Nothing.

Then she tells me to try talking to the baby. This feels weird to me at first but I give it a shot.

“Hello, my precious. Mommy is here. I can’t wait to meet you.”

It’s as if the baby is sitting right in front of me when I say this. The thumb comes out of its mouth and its head turns toward the screen, as if looking right at me. It was as if it recognized my voice. At this point, I’m anxious to find out if I’m talking to my son or daughter.

Thankfully, the baby stretches out both legs and we are able to see something pretty big in between. I’m no doctor, but I feel as if I know the sex right away.

“Oh my God … is that … what I think it is?” My tears have returned and I think I’m going to hyperventilate.

“Yes, ma’am. Congratulations, Ms. Decker. You’re having a boy.”

“Are you sure? I mean, 100 percent sure.”

I am such a skeptic and always want guarantees.

“Well, there are no guarantees, but I’ve been doing this for about twenty years, and I’d say there’s a 99.9 percent chance you’re having a boy,” the doctor assures me.

Mom, Gretchen, Chelsea and I can’t contain our excitement at this point and we all look at each other and scream out in unison. “It’s a boy!”

We share more laughter and a few more tears. My son goes back to sucking his thumb but turns his head toward us every time I speak, as if he’s looking for me. It’s one of the most amazing things I’ve ever experienced.

When the appointment is over, Dr. Ansley asks me who my favorite singer is and I reply, “Celine Dion.” She makes a note on her paper and lets us know we can pick up the DVD to take home at the front desk.

We wait about twenty minutes and then the receptionist calls me to the desk to pick up my paperwork and DVD copy.