Epiphany

by Ashley Suzanne

  Mira and I look at each other, rolling our eyes, knowing we’re not going home any time soon. Walking back to the gazebo, we take our places—Mira to the left of Kylee and me to the right of Jacoby. It looks like we’re not going to have our own anniversary.

  CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

  Mira

  Over the next six weeks, my life is pretty much insane. Taking daily injections of fertility drugs does mean things to a woman’s body. I’m pretty much having the same mood changes as if I were pregnant without actually carrying a baby. I thought this would be simple, but no, it’s not—not even close.

  The beginning of May, Skylar and I go to the clinic for the doctor to retrieve my eggs and Skylar’s sperm. I’m beginning to think this entire procedure is a little archaic. While I’m having a minor, non-invasive surgery to get my eggs, Skylar gets an orgasm out of his end of the deal. I wouldn’t mind an orgasm right about now. It’s been weeks. The whole being pumped full of drugs to make me ovulate and having sex don’t mix, according to the doctor, anyway.

  We followed the rules, no matter how difficult. Skylar, my sweet husband, even vowed to not masturbate because I couldn’t have sex. One thing’s for sure. When we leave here today, we’re probably not going to make it out of the parking lot before I molest him. I doubt he’s going to put up much of a fight, either.

  Once our business at the clinic is handled, I hold true to my thoughts and rock his

  world in a park near the doctor’s office. Not wasting time to get out of the car

  and get in the backseat, I screw his brains out right in the driver’s seat. For those

  of you who want to try it, make sure the seat is pushed back as far as it goes. There’s

  no worse feeling than a steering wheel obstructing you from grinding—it’s quite frustrating

  actually.

  Three days later, Skylar and I meet Jacoby and Kylee at the same office for her to be inseminated with our fertilized embryo. My nerves are beyond shot. I just want everything to work and not have to do another round. Honestly, I won’t let Jacoby pay for more of this. He’s given us a twenty thousand dollar wedding gift. I know he has money, but shit.

  The doctor takes Kylee back, only allowing one other person and of course I defer to Jacoby. She’s going to want her husband, anyway. How fucking crazy is it that Kylee and I are both married? I still can’t believe it. For those of you who were thinking it was a dream like I was, you’re wrong, too. This is very much real life and I couldn’t be happier.

  After an hour or so, Kylee and Jacoby come walking out from the back, Kylee smiling. “Did it work?” I ask, needing to know every aspect of this process.

  “He said we won’t know for a few weeks. It only took a few minutes for him to put the embryo inside my uterus. I had to wait a while; the doctor said it would be best. Now, we just wait for it to attach to my uterine wall and have a positive pregnancy test.”

  “So we just go home and wait?” Patience is not a virtue that I possess. I’m more of an instant gratification kind of girl.

  “Yep,” she answers nonchalantly.

  Alright, it looks like the waiting game is on.

  I spend the next two weeks, finding every possible way to keep myself busy so I don’t

  concentrate on the fact that Kylee very well may be pregnant with my baby. Working

  longer than usual hours, date nights with Skylar, joining him at the club house, and

  cleaning only fill the hours when I’m awake. It’s the times where I lie in bed, trying

  to fall asleep, where all my wildest dreams play out in my head.

  At the fourteen day mark, Kylee and Jacoby come over to our apartment for dinner. Kylee barely makes it in the door before I’m ushering her to the bathroom with every kind of pregnancy test I could by.

  “Whoa whoa, hold on a second, baby girl,” she says, sitting on the closed toilet seat.

  “Why are you just sitting there? Here, pee on this.” I shove one of many tests in her hand, but she doesn’t take it. She’s also refusing to make eye contact with me. Oh fuck, this is bad.

  “Kylee, talk to me,” I beg, sitting on the edge of the bathtub.

  “Mira,” she whispers, a tear falling from her eye, streaming the entire way down her cheek.

  “It’s okay. We tried. Everything for a reason, right?” I know what she’s not telling me. She already checked and isn’t pregnant. I shouldn’t

  have gotten my hopes up, I should have waited. I couldn’t help it, though. Everything

  seemed so perfect.

  “Let’s go eat dinner,” I say, the sadness apparent in my voice.

  Kylee stands, putting her purse on the vanity and turns on the water. When she’s done washing her hands, she reaches into her purse, pulling out something wrapped in a napkin.

  “I couldn’t wait. I wanted to tell you,” she says, handing me whatever she’s holding. “Open it.”

  Taking her directive, I unfold the napkin, only to see a pregnancy test. I hand it over to her, not wanting her to think I wouldn’t believe her. She wouldn’t do that to me. “Kylee, you don’t have to prove you’re not pregnant. I know you wouldn’t lie to me like that.”

  “But what if I want to prove I am pregnant,” she says, raising a brow and handing the test back to me.

  “You’re pregnant!” I scream, turning the stick over to reveal two little blue lines,

  indicating she is with child. “Oh my God, Kylee. You’re pregnant. It worked. I’m going to have a baby.”

  “Yeah. I wanted to surprise you. I’m having your baby,” she says.

  “Skylar! Get in here!”

  Moments later, Skylar and Jacoby come bounding into the bathroom that’s barely big enough for one, let alone four. Gripping my shoulders, he turns me around. Glancing down, he sees the stick and his eyes fill with tears that match mine.

  “We’re having a baby,” he whispers, kissing me a little too passionately in a bathroom

  with my best friend and her husband.

  “I’ll go open a bottle of champagne,” Jacoby says. Kylee and I both turn toward him wearing scowls.

  “You can open a bottle of sparking juice, no booze for my baby mama.” Squeezing Kylee’s hand, she rolls her eyes, probably already regretting being my baby oven.

  *****

  “These pants don’t fucking fit,” Kylee fusses, throwing another pair of jeans across the room.

  “Ky, you’re pregnant. Let me buy you some maternity clothes,” I say, trying to cheer her up with shopping, but that only pisses her off more.

  “I’m only sixteen weeks. I shouldn’t need maternity clothes yet. I’m just getting fat. Look at my ass, it’s fucking huge. Huger than huge, it’s giant,” she whines, shoving her legs into a pair of leggings and pulling a baggy tee shirt over her head.

  “You’re beautiful. Don’t forget it. Now, hurry your ass up, Skylar and Jacoby are meeting us at the ultrasound clinic. They can’t get started until you show up, mama.”

  The first few weeks weren’t as bad as this. She had that pregnant glow about her, always showing off the tiny baby bump that appeared around ten weeks. Now that she’s really showing, she’s not happy. For someone who’s relied on her outward appearance, I should have thought this wouldn’t be easy for her—gaining weight and getting a bigger ass—she’s got to be freaking out.

  Sometimes I feel guilty, wanting her to be happy, but then she reminds me that she loves me and she’s more than happy to be the temporary home for my baby burrito inside of her. I can’t say that I’m exactly excited she gets to experience all the things I’ll never be able to, but it’s nice to be able to share these memories with her and she doesn’t shut me out.

  “I’m coming. They better remember I’m the star of this show and nobody’s gonna be happy if they piss me off.” Kylee waddles out of her bedroom, down the hall and into my car.

  When we finally arrive, they rush Kylee and me back to the ultrasound room where Jacoby and
Skylar have been waiting for twenty minutes or so.

  “It’s so nice of you to make it, Kylee,” Skylar sneers, only to be met with a grimace that’s sure to give me nightmares. Rule one—don’t fuck with the pregnant lady.

  The tech comes into the room, kills the lights and gets straight to work. Putting the jelly on Kylee’s belly, he starts playing with the buttons and suddenly the heartbeat of my baby is heard loud and clear by everyone in the room.

  “140, looks good,” the tech says, taking notes on his chart. “Do you want to know

  the baby’s gender?” he asks.

  Looking at Skylar who’s nodding his head rapidly, I guess I know my answer. “Can we find out this early? I thought you couldn’t tell until twenty weeks.”

  “Well, Mrs. McBride, I know the gender, the question is, do you want to know?” It’s great that this clinic knows our situation, and directs all

  questions like this to me and Skylar. It’s kind of like I’m an active participant.

  “Yes, we’d like to know.”

  Printing a picture of the baby’s profile, the tech hands it to me and Skylar. When

  we both look at the baby, who, by his advice, looks perfectly healthy, tears brim my eyes and I look to the ultrasound tech to tell us if we’re having a boy or girl.

  “Mr. and Mrs. McBride, this is a picture of your daughter.” A little girl. I expect Skylar to be a little let down, now knowing it’s not a son, but he smiles

  larger than I’ve ever seen, taking the picture from me to examine the features we

  can see in this vague image.

  “A daughter, huh? She’s gonna have a lot of uncles looking out for her,” he says, still staring at

  the picture.

  “And a Godmother who has to pee. Are we almost done?” I love Kylee and her overly active bladder. Winking at her,

  I hurry the tech along. He grabs a few more measurements and leaves the room for

  Kylee to clean up and use the restroom.

  “You’re gonna love having a little girl. Shelby is so much fun. I can’t wait to tell her she’s having a girl cousin. She’ll be so excited,” Kylee says, running to the bathroom.

  *****

  “Are you gonna be okay if I ask the nurses for drugs while I’m in labor?” Kylee asks, plopping down on the couch next to me with a bowl of popcorn and superman ice cream.

  “It’s your body. They wouldn’t offer it if it wasn’t safe for the baby. You make that call,” I tell her, taking a few bites from the bowl that’s resting on her eight month pregnant belly.

  “I just wanna make sure. It’s your baby and all. Some people are really weird about that shit.”

  “If I was having this baby and I was in pain and needed drugs, I’d take them. I don’t expect you to do anything differently.”

  Turning back to the TV, Kylee insisted on watching “Baby Mama” for the second time

  this week. With Jacoby out of town for business, Kylee’s been staying with me and

  Skylar. I gave him free reign to hang out at the clubhouse with the guys so Ky and I can take the bed. He tried to protest, but it’s gonna be the last time for

  a while that he gets to spend time away from the house in long increments; he needs

  to take advantage of it.

  Suddenly, the bowl falls off Kylee’s stomach and it looks like there’s a wrestling match going on inside of her. Grabbing my hand and putting it on her belly, Kylee smiles as more waves move across the surface.

  “Is that her moving like that?” I ask, having never seen the baby move like this before.

  “Yeah, she’s telling you that she wants to be a gymnast, mommy.”

  We sit like this for probably a good fifteen minutes while the baby rolls around,

  kicking and performing some kind of acrobatic routine. This is the coolest thing

  I’ve ever seen in my life and I’m kind of jealous Kylee gets to feel every single

  movement. Pushing my envy aside, I stare in amazement at my daughter doing tricks.

  “I can’t wait to meet you,” I say to Kylee’s stomach, rubbing softly.

  Another month and I’ll be able to hold my daughter.

  *****

  With Kylee’s due date being only two weeks away, my mother’s adamant about me having some kind of baby shower, even though I decline every offer she’s presented. Finally giving in, I meet my mom at her church, where all the ladies have gathered wanting to give me gifts and play stupid baby shower games.

  Kylee and I walk into the church basement, promising each other we’ll be in and out in no more than an hour. As we move through the throng of older ladies, we find our seats at the head of the room, surrounded by large boxes and even more smiling women.

  “Wanna do a half hour instead of an hour?” I mutter to Kylee while still holding a smile.

  “Hell no. These women wanna shower you with presents, you’re gonna stick it out. They didn’t

  have to and if you say one more word about it, I’m going to cut you.” Pregnancy really

  agrees with Kylee.

  My mom approaches us, carrying two cups filled with punch, and the shenanigans begin. Once all the games are played and door prizes given out, it’s time for the presents and cake. Kylee could care less about opening a gift or smiling for a picture, but the cake—she’s all over it, eating more chocolate frosting than anyone alive should.

  “Wanna slow down there? I don’t need you going into a diabetic coma while pregnant with my baby,” I joke.

  “If you had any idea how excellent this cake is, you wouldn’t be complaining. And since when did you start monitoring my sugar intake? Am I being babysat?” she asks, offended.

  “I was just kidding. I don’t want you getting sick later.”

  “And I don’t want to fart in your purse. Keep it up and that’s where you’re headed.” She’s watched too much “Baby Mama”. I can’t even deal with her right now.

  Moving onto the gifts, these church ladies outdid themselves. I’ll have enough clothing

  to get this baby through her first year without having to run a single load of laundry.

  And there are so many toys, I’m not sure what newborns do, but I’m almost positive

  it’s not play with a riding motorcycle with realistic noises. No doubt, a gift from my mother.

  I’m able to pry the fork from Kylee’s hand long enough for my mom to take a few pictures with the baby clothes draped across Kylee’s belly. When Kylee starts closing her eyes at the table, it’s my cue to wrap it up and get her home. Being thirty-seven weeks pregnant has to be taking a toll on her body and her sleep schedule.

  “Thank you, everyone. This was so nice. Kylee and I appreciate it more than you even know,” I say, trying

  to excuse myself.

  “You girls make a beautiful couple,” one of the older ladies says from the back of the room.

  “Oh, no ma’am, you got this all wrong. Mira’s beautiful and anyone would be happy

  to have her, I just don’t like the girls like that. My husband probably wouldn’t

  protest, but I’m more of a sausage girl if you know what I mean.” Along with pregnancy taking a toll on her body, apparently

  her filter is busted, too.

  Blushing, I grab Kylee’s hand and drag her out of the church, texting Skylar to meet

  my mom here to pick up all the presents with his truck.

  “Kylee Roberts, what am I going to do with you?” I ask rhetorically.

  “Get me another piece of that cake before the old ladies eat it all.” Shaking my head, I drive toward her house to drop her off. This girl is something else, I swear.

  *****

  Searching my nightstand with my hand, I knock over the lamp, finally finding my phone. “Hello,” I say still groggy with sleep.

  “Bitch, get up. It’s time,” Kylee says on the other line. Looking at the alarm clock, it’s a little after four a.m. Wait, it’s time?

  �
��Are you sure?” I ask, not wanting to get out of bed for a false alarm … again.

  “You think I pissed myself? Get up and let’s go. I’ll meet you at U of M.” The line goes dead and I just stare at my phone, until I wake up enough to realize what’s going on.

  Bouncing on the bed, I shove Skylar hard, “Wake up. It’s baby time.”

  Fumbling around on the floor, I pick up the lamp and illuminate the room. Skylar’s still lying in bed and I’m half dressed. “I said wake up!” I scream directly in his face. “It’s baby time,” I reiterate when his eyes open and focus on me.

  He also, bounds out of bed, throwing on a pair of clean sweats and a tee shirt. Grabbing

  the video camera, car keys and the baby bag, we’re out the door in ten minutes flat.

  Thankful that she’s gone into labor in the middle of the night, we’re not having to fight traffic to get to Ann Arbor.

  Skylar drops me at the main entrance and I wait impatiently for him at the security

  desk. Once the guard verifies what room Kylee’s in, he gives us our visitor passes and directions to the maternity ward. My palms sweaty and legs shaky, I’m finding it hard to concentrate on where I’m

  going. Skylar and his excellent sense of direction takes control as we find our way to Labor and Delivery.

  Checking in at the nurses’ station, we’re escorted back to Kylee’s room, where she’s

  already progressing quickly.

  “There they are. Great of you to make it. Late for your own daughter’s arrival,” Kylee grunts through a contraction while

  Jacoby stands next to her trying to feed her ice chips. “Do you think I want that?

  Get that shit out of here,” she bats at the spoon, sending ice flying across the room.

  This is going to be a great time.

  “Sorry, it’s a twenty minute drive, Ky. We left as soon as you called.” I try to keep the peace, but her contractions are

  really close together and a heart to heart is not what she’s looking for.

  “Someone get me some drugs or something,” she cries. My heart hurts. I’m not jealous of this

  part. I watched some birth videos and this shit looks terrible and painful.