I love pregnancy. The bit of nausea at the beginning and feeling like an overheated hippo at the end does nothing to ruin the wonderful middle part. The first time I feel our baby kick, I jump up and down like a hyperactive kid. I record Chipper Jr.’s heartbeat, loop the sound, and listen to it at night. I adore maternity clothes and start wearing them when I’m two months along. In fact, I’m sporting my favorite “baby on the way” top during my first time on the ski slopes. I don’t do much actual skiing that time, or the next since I find myself pregnant again by then, but I do enjoy the snow. I’m nearly as crazy about making mutant snowmen as I am about pregnancy.
I’m convinced my first baby is a boy named Ridge. We forego learning the baby’s gender because I think a surprise would be fun. Plus, my heart knows it’s a son.
Of course, we don’t have a boy.
“Told you,” Chipper teases when the doctor reveals our slimy baby girl. “I dreamed she would be bald too, and I was right.”
Our daughter isn’t bald, though. After she gets cleaned up, we discover a fine layer of fair blonde hair.
“I’m always right,” Chipper says even though he’s obviously wrong.
“You’ve been up too long,” I tell my sleepy husband who never left my side during the terminally boring first twelve hours of labor, the excruciating—until drugs—last three hours, or the extremely loud pushing final section. Chipper kept me entertained the entire time, even making me smile when the pushing began really pissing me off. Now he looks ready to drop while I’m enjoying a second wind.
“Rest so you’ll be ready to take over when I fudging crash.”
Chipper grins at my refusal to cuss. In fact, even when I was in the worst kind of pain during delivery, I only used watered-down profanity. His favorites were “mother friender” and “son of a hot wing.”
I pick the name Mesa for my firstborn daughter to honor my mother—both names start with an “M” and end with an “A”—and Chipper’s love of Colorado mountains. My baby’s middle name is Sweet as a tribute to Candy.
“None of Honey’s kids gave their kids silly names as a tribute,” Candy tells Hayes. “Mine love me more.”
“At least her first name isn’t awful,” Hayes replies and gets an elbow from Candy to the gut for his effort. “What?”
I know I’m biased, but I swear Mesa looks just like my mother. Her fair blonde hair. Her big goofy smile. The softness around her eyes when she’s sleepy. She’s the spitting image of her grandmother.
Of course, Mesa also has Chipper’s rich brown eyes and thick dark lashes. She sounds like Cricket when she laughs and looks like Candy when she’s pissed. I swear she even growls like Hayes when she’s hungry.
I read online that I’m unlikely to get pregnant while breastfeeding. As Chipper points out after the positive pregnancy test, “The definition of unlikely is not impossible.”
Shocked to be pregnant less than two months after giving birth, I put the blame squarely on the sexy man who tempted me into this situation. “You should have used those condoms you bought when we first met.”
“Yes, I could have, but I was too excited about fucking my breezy again to think about the consequences.”
That consequence is our “Irish twin” named Ridge.
“You’re such a copycat,” Cricket taunts Chipper. “Since you couldn’t have real twins, you pulled this bullshit. It’s sad really.”
“If I wasn’t so tired,” Chipper says, lounging in a chair with Mesa in his lap, “I’d beat you senseless.”
“Well, you’d try.”
“I certainly would,” he says, sharing her smile.
“Shut up,” Hayes grumbles. “Why is this kid’s middle name, Longhorn?”
Candy takes the paper Hayes looks at and shakes her head. “Why do you insist on following in Toby Eddison’s footsteps by naming your children dumb shit?”
“What about Cap?” Cricket points out immediately.
“Leave me out of this,” the giant teenager says from his spot in the corner. “I’m just here to film this miracle.”
“Longhorn,” I say with a raspy voice since Ridge’s giant monster head caused a whole lot of screaming on my part during labor, “is to honor Angus.”
“They’re both kinds of cattle,” Chipper says.
Cricket laughs so hard at this reasoning that I think she pees a little. She certainly hurries into the bathroom fast enough. Cap probably doesn’t pee, but he chuckles until it’s time for the family to leave.
Hayes, though, decides he likes the name since he never has to call the baby by it.
“Ridge sounds like a soap opera name,” Candy says.
“Big talk from a woman with a stripper’s name,” Chipper replies.
“Your name is Chipper,” she growls at him.
“Can we all agree,” I mumble, “that you people have weird names and pretend that’s a good thing?”
“Spoken like the family’s voice of reason,” Candy says and kisses my forehead. “You’re wise. You treat my boy right. You make beautiful babies. What else can a mother ask for?”
I truly feel like Candy is my second mother. The way she steps in when I’m especially indecisive reminds me of my mom. Candy isn’t pushy, but she’s never afraid to speak up and help me. Chipper got that confidence from his mom, and I hope our kids grow up to be the same way.
Howler was never a father, and I didn’t think I needed one. If I described the kind of man I wanted as a dad, Hayes wouldn’t fit the bill. He isn’t a hugger. He doesn’t drop compliments easily. He tends to growl more than speak. Underneath his scary surface, he’s a big softie, though.
I love watching him play with his grandkids. He’s so gigantic, and they’re so small, but somehow they always wrap him around their tiny fingers. Chipper said Hayes was the same way with Cricket and him, but I hadn’t believed it until I watch him hold Mesa the first time. Then Hayes goes and tells the baby how she’s lucky to have such a good mama, and I’m a sobbing mess. Considering my tearful reaction, I can understand why he doesn’t often compliment people.
Chipper and I ease right into parenthood. The kids and I join him on many of his errands, and I’m still technically his assistant. We usually have breakfast with the family at Waffle House. Every other week, we either visit Bonn, Ruby, and Adric, or they come to our house for dinner. Nearly every day, I stop by Cricket’s, and once a month, I try a new recipe Bianca Bella teaches me. Life doesn’t change much with each baby. I suspect having a tight-knit family makes parenthood so much easier.
My mom somehow raised me all alone, and I’ll never forget everything she gave up to make my childhood so wonderful. I’m blessed with opportunities she never enjoyed, but I try not to let myself feel guilty. Mom worried so much about leaving me alone, and I have no doubt she brought Chipper into my life. She knew he was an amazing man with an amazing family who lived in an amazing town. To honor her, I wake up every morning ready to embrace whatever blessing comes next.