That Baby

by Jillian Dodd

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Dear Baby Mac,

  The work baby pool results are in:

  A whopping 62% think you are a girl.

  The most common birth date is September 29th.

  They had to also guess your weight as a tiebreaker. If majority rules, you will weigh in around 8 pounds.

  And in other good news, construction of the office building is complete!

  All that's left now is to watch all the cool finishing touches go into place. The traditional furniture. The modern artwork. The cool smart boards. The funky chairs in the break room.

  You should be proud of your mommy. There were times I wasn't sure I could pull off a project of this scale, but I'm so pleased with how it turned out.

  I'm also happy to announce that my office/your playroom is done and this weekend we're going to move all my stuff down there and hang the curtains.

  On the nursery front: I was told your chair and crib have shipped. I think that means they are on a slow boat from China, and I'm pretty sure if I call and hound the company one more time I will never, ever see them in my lifetime.

  Your dad keeps making me call them. It's driving him nuts that everything isn't done.

  I told him to chill. That we still have four weeks.

  But he's starting to get a little crazy.

  At first, it was sweet.

  The car. The outlet covers. The cabinet locks.

  The security system.

  Now, he's starting to annoy me a little.

  Even though my birth plan is really just one simple line, he wants me write it down.

  So, here we go.

  I've packed a hospital bag for each of us and they are sitting by the door.

  He's also mapped out six different possible routes for our trip to the hospital--even though we are only a few miles away from it. (He has also mapped out multiple routes depending on where we are when I go into labor, like work, dinner, shopping, etc.)

  He's also redone our wills.

  Upped our life insurance.

  And I'm pretty sure he's already chosen your college.

  Just kidding.

  I think.

  September 7th

  You've gotten huge.

  I'm exhausted and headed home from work on Friday afternoon.

  It's been a long week.

  We've moved all the office furniture into the new building and added all the decorative touches.

  No one has let me do much because I'm pregnant, but I've been on my feet the whole time overseeing the process. The company grand opening party is next Thursday, and I want everything to look perfect.

  I'm so incredibly proud of how it has come together but, right now, all I want to do is go home and soak in a warm bath.

  Unfortunately, I don't get to do that.

  Danny begged me to try to get my friendship with Lori back on track.

  I told him she needs to apologize first.

  But then he told me that he decided to stop talking to Jennifer. When I asked him why, he said it was because he really liked her, and if he kept talking to her it would eventually destroy his family.

  As I ring their doorbell, I feel torn about his decision. On one hand, I'm proud of him for being responsible, for not giving up on his marriage, and for making his baby a priority. On the other hand, my heart aches because I want him to be crazy, happy in love.

  Lori answers the door and, upon seeing me, says, "Wow, you've gotten huge!"

  I rub my growing belly. "I know," I say sweetly, trying to kill her bitchiness with kindness. "Isn't it exciting? I only have three and a half weeks left."

  "You know, just because you've had an easy pregnancy, doesn't mean you'll have an easy birth."

  "What do you mean?"

  "You've skated through your pregnancy. That means you'll have a rough delivery. It's just how it works."

  My blood starts to boil. "It almost sounds like you're hoping my delivery won't be easy. Like it's some kind of sick payback for yours being crappy. And, personally, I think that's a pretty shitty thing to say to a friend. Although, I don't know why I'm surprised. You haven't been my friend lately. The only reason I even stopped by is because Danny, who I love, begged me to. And since you aren't on medication any more, Lori, what is your excuse for being such a bitch?" She starts to speak, but I hold up my hand. "Don't bother replying. I already know the answer. You don't have one. And I'm sick of it. Sick of the way you treat me. Sick of the way you treat Danny. He may be stuck with you, but I'm not! Have a great life, Lori."

  I'm pissed off when I march into my house.

  I'm barely through the front door when Phillip's mom grabs me. "I have a surprise to show you!"

  She leads me toward the nursery.

  Oh. No. No. No. No. No. No.

  Please, God. Please tell me she didn't do anything to the nursery.

  But she has.

  Phillip's old crib is shoved into the corner where the rocker is supposed to go, and there are ugly cartoon animals stuck to the beautiful paint I spent weeks agonizing over.

  And that's when I lose it.

  Tears stream down my face as I storm out of the nursery, grab my suitcase out of the hall closet, take it down to my room, and start throwing stuff in it.

  "What are you doing?" she asks, following me.

  "I'm leaving. I'm leaving my dream house. Because it doesn't even feel like my home any more."

  "What do you mean?" she asks, as I slam the suitcase shut and wheel it down the hall.

  "I didn't have a picture on the dining room wall because Phillip and I were waiting for the Plaza Art Fair, where we were going to find the perfect piece of art. Something that would always remind us of the place we went every year as kids and where we got married. Instead, there's some horrible picture of a place in Paris that we've never been to and was"--I can barely get out the words--"mass produced. And we didn't have a kitchen table because we found a beautiful custom table that our kids and friends will carve their names in. But because the artist only makes one at a time, we have to wait another month before it will be done. And, in the meantime, I have a table that doesn't match the style of my kitchen at all, and not only that, it's made of"--I start crying harder--"pressed wood!"

  I storm by the kitchen.

  "And I fucking hate chickens. No one under fifty has chickens in their kitchen. No one! So you and Phillip can live here, because it's not even my house anymore." I grab my portfolio and take out my dream house sketchbook and throw it on the counter. "I guess I won't be needing this any more. And, just for the record, no one knocks on our front door at night. We were having sex, because that's what newlyweds are supposed to do!"

  I waddle out of the house, slamming the door behind me.

  I throw my suitcase in the car and pull out of my driveway.

  I have no idea where I'm going.

  Once I get a few blocks from my house, I pull over.

  I can barely see the road through my tears.

  I don't even know where to go.

  I pat the top of my belly as the baby gives me a swift kick in the ribs and I intuitively know that I need to calm myself down.

  Phillip

  Stand up for your marriage.

  I come home to find my mother's bags packed and her sitting at the kitchen island.

  I also notice something else new. "Is that a chicken rug?"

  "Yes, Phillip," she says curtly. "It is."

  "Did Jadyn buy that?" I ask delicately, knowing damn well she didn't.

  "Your wife is very talented," my mom says. "Have you seen her sketchbook of all the things she wants to do to your house?"

  "Of course, I've seen it. It's our dream book. When we see something we like, she draws it to help me visualize it. We can't buy everything at once, so we're doing a room at a time."

  "Yes, that's what I hear. Your wife packed her suitcase and left. And it's all our fault."

  "What do you mean she left?"

  "I brought your
old crib and hung some wallpaper in the nursery to surprise her."

  I run my hands through my hair. "Oh, Mom . . . "

  "So you do know," she says.

  "Know what?"

  "That JJ has been unhappy with what I've been doing around your house."

  Now this is awkward. "Um, yes. I know."

  My mom points at me and she's pissed. "Sit down, Phillip!"

  I sit.

  "JJ is your wife. Wife trumps mother if you are going to have a successful marriage," she lectures.

  "I didn't want to hurt your feelings."

  "She's your wife. She's pregnant with your baby. My grandchild. And she left."

  "Where did she go?"

  "I don't know. I've been calling all around but no one has seen her. When she left here, she was crying and really upset."

  "What happened?"

  "She blew up. I guess the nursery was the last straw. Phillip, you and your wife have to be a team against anything and anyone that might affect your marriage. I've been affecting your marriage, haven't I?"

  I put my head down and nod. "A little."

  "So why didn't you say something?"

  "I knew you being here was temporary. I figured things would be fine once you and Dad got your own place. And I didn't want to hurt your feelings."

  "But in the process, you were hurting JJ's. You know, one time when your father and I were first married, we got into a wicked fight. I packed my bag and went to my parents' house." She starts crying. "JJ doesn't have anywhere to go. She's all alone--except for you. Except for us. You have to be her rock, Phillip. You have to stand up for your marriage. I'm really worried about her."

  "I saw your bags. Are you leaving?"

  "Yes, your father will be here shortly. I suggest you find your wife. JJ is pretty outspoken and generally lets people know how she feels. What I want to know is why she didn't say anything to me."

  I'm quiet.

  "Phillip?" she says again, using that tone. "I asked you a question."

  "Because I told her I would," I admit.

  She puts her hand on my shoulder. "Even if you hurt my feelings, I'll understand. But your wife won't. Your wife will feel like you're choosing your family over her, and it will erode her trust and faith in you. You should have been a man--the man of your dream house, the man I know you can be--and told me. You're going to be a father soon. You have to be a man, Phillip. From now on."

  "Yes ma'am," I say.

  Everything my mom says is right. I screwed up big time. How am I supposed to be a father when I can't even be the head of my own house? I think about all the planning I've been doing. I've been pretending we'll be fine, but I've seen the toll it's taken on Danny and Lori's marriage. I'm afraid we've moved too fast. From first date, to married, to pregnant in under six months. And I know I'm the one who was excited about her being pregnant so soon.

  I just want everything with her.

  Right now.

  Always right now.

  I'm a planner. A doer. A fixer. Jadyn is creative. A dreamer. All the things I love the most about her are the ways in which we're different. And they are also the things that are starting to drive me crazy. We don't even have a crib, for god's sake, and the baby will be here in less than a month.

  The doorbell rings as I'm rubbing my temples, hoping to dispel the headache I feel coming on.

  "That's probably your father," my mom says, going to answer the door. "Oh, Phillip. It's a truck with a delivery."

  I get off the barstool and watch as the deliverymen unload a crib. The crib from Jadyn's sketches.

  "Do you know where to put it?" Mom asks.

  I grab the sketchbook. "I'll be in the nursery. Send them up."

  When I get in the nursery, instead of seeing at all that isn't done yet, I see all she's accomplished. The room is a calming shade of the palest blue-grey. The changing table is filled with colored cloth bins holding diapers, onesies, and other baby essentials. A large grey and white patterned rug is spread over the hardwood floor. I look at the nursery animals my mother stuck onto the walls and my old ugly crib with its gaudy animal bedding and understand why Jadyn flipped out.

  I quickly shove the crib across the hall and into the guest bedroom.

  I hear my mom directing the movers my way. They bring in and then unwrap a gorgeous crib. It's the kind of crib we could pass on to future generations. The wood is intricately carved and the headboard oversized. I instruct them to place it in the center of the room as per Jadyn's plans.

  Mom says, "I think you should put it on that wall over there. It would look--"

  I don't say a word, just raise an eyebrow at her, which shuts her up.

  "We have a chair for you too," the deliveryman says, and they quickly bring in the slipcovered rocking chair. Jadyn ordered numerous fabric swatches before she found the exact shade of dusty purple-grey velvet she envisioned. I remember thinking it really didn't matter what color the chair was, but now that I see the room coming together, I notice every little detail. The white blackout curtains with grey pompoms running down the edges. The ceiling she added extra coving to so she could insert deep navy panels with little lights that look like stars. The pale pink, yellow, green, and blues of the baskets. The mobile hanging above the changing table that she made from pale strips of fabric and ribbons.

  "How do we get these stickers off the wall, Mom?"

  She's looking around too. "They don't really go, do they?"

  "No, they don't."

  "I used wallpaper paste," she says. "I'm not sure we can get them off without damaging the paint."

  I grab my phone out of my pocket and Google it. I don't say anything to her, just run and get JJ's hairdryer.

  I take it to the nursery, turn it on high, and say a prayer.

  After pulling, cussing, and burning my hand, the stickers are gone.

  "Let me get some water," my mom says. She comes back with a sponge and wipes off the remaining adhesive.

  We both stand back.

  "You can't even tell they were there," I say with relief.

  My mom hugs herself. "This is the most beautiful nursery I've ever seen. You need to call JJ."

  But I'm way ahead of her.

  Jadyn

  All that really matters.

  I get done with my massage and am at my locker getting dressed.

  The baby, who must have been sleeping during the massage, has decided to wake up and do some kind of workout. I'm getting kicks to the stomach and elbows to the ribs. I pat my belly, the stress I felt when I got here instantly reappearing.

  I still have no idea what I'm going to do.

  Or where I'm going to go.

  But then I look down at my engagement ring and remember what Phillip told me a few days before our wedding. This ring means one thing. That I love you. Promise me that no matter what, no matter if we fight, no matter how hopeless things may feel, that you will look at this ring and know that when you love someone, that's all that really matters. That we'll always figure it out together.

  I promised that I would.

  I was a tad overdramatic when I stormed out on Phillip's mom. Honestly, I wasn't really that mad at her. And I'm a big girl. I should've talked to her about it myself instead of waiting for Phillip to say something. I just didn't want to hurt her feelings. She's made me feel like part of their family since my parents died. I'll just be honest with her. Tell her that we love having her stay with us but it's our house and there are a few rules. Make that one rule. No decorating.

  I'll apologize, tell her the truth, and then tell her what Lori said, because that's what upset me the most. That's what set me off. The nursery was just the spark that lit the powder keg.

  I still can't believe Lori said that to me. Wished that on me.

  How could a friend say something like that?

  Which brings me back to the same answer I've been avoiding since she accused me of cheating.

  A friend wouldn't.

  Besides apolo
gizing to Mrs. Mac, I also need to have a serious conversation with Danny. If he wants to stay with Lori, that's his business, but I can't be friends with her unless she gives me a sincere apology. I'm done pretending things are okay. And I hope and pray it won't affect our relationship with Danny.

  My phone vibrates.

  "It's your dad," I say to my stomach. "Close your ears. I may say a few bad words. Hello," I say into the phone.

  "Come home," Phillip says.

  "No thanks," I reply even though I want to go home. I just want it to be my home when I get there.

  "Are you okay? Mom said you were really upset when you left."

  "I'm fine, Phillip," I lie.

  "I just need to make sure you're okay."

  "I just told you I'm okay, Phillip," I say with a sigh. "Just like I told you that your mother doing stuff to our house was upsetting to me. Just like I told Danny I couldn't be friends with Lori any more."

  "I'm sorry about my mom. I kept thinking it was temporary. That we just needed to get through it. Then we could do things our way as soon as she left. I didn't want to upset her."

  "But it was okay to upset me? Why does everyone think it's okay for me to be upset?"

  "What happened with Lori?"

  "I went over there before I came home. Danny wanted me to make up with her, but I wasn't even through the door before she said something horrible."

  "What did she say?"

  "That I would have a rough delivery because I had such an easy pregnancy."

  "What a bitch," Phillip says. "You're done being friends with her. I'll talk to Danny about it."

  "I came home upset and when your mom showed me the nursery, I just blew."

  "I don't blame you. Mom chewed me out," he says softly.

  "Why?"

  "Because I didn't stand up for you. She said that I suck at being a husband."

  "You're not a bad husband, Phillip. You were in an awkward situation. I get that. I understand why you always took her side. I just didn't like it."

  "But I shouldn't have. And I shouldn't have left the burden on you to tell her. It wasn't fair of me. Just like Danny asking you to be friends with Lori again isn't fair. My parents are leaving, just so you know. They will stay in hotels from now on."