Bell Housing – A cover, shaped like a bell, that surrounds the flywheel and clutch that connects the engine to the transmission.
Every time I thought about going into labor... I didn’t think it would happen on Christmas Day nor did I expect it would be anything like this. I wasn’t prepared for the pain and I wasn’t I prepared for how unprepared we were.
Jameson was wound up, and I was a basket case with an egg—the egg being the baby, if that didn’t make sense.
“It’s fucking freezing out here!” Shivering, Jameson rubbed his hands together once he was inside the car.
“Jameson, just calm down,” I glanced down at his bare legs and giggled as we sat in the Expedition.
“I am calm. This is my calm.” His eyes narrowed, as I continued to giggle and pee a little.
“Is that so? If you’re so calm, where are your pants?”
He sighed in defeat when he looked down and realized why he was so cold. “Shit.”
He came back a few minutes later, still complaining.
“I’ve eaten entirely too much ice cream these days... my pants don’t even fit!”
“Jameson?”
“Yeah?” He glanced over at me, digging the keys out of his pocket.
“Those are my pants.”
“Shit.”
He came back again, another five minutes later, still complaining, but this time he looked even more agitated.
“Jesus Christ, did you buy these for me? I mean... I know I’ve gained a few pounds this off-season—no thanks to you and your ice cream—but fuck. What’s with the kangaroo pouch?”
“Those are mine!” I yelled. We were never going to make it to the hospital at this rate. “You should change and wake the fuck up! Put your own goddamn clothes on!”
He sat there staring at me for a moment like I’d lost my mind. He’d lost his mind, not me.
“You really should change.” I motioned with my hands to the water still trickling out of me. “We need to go.”
“You think?”
I punched his shoulder. “Don’t be an asshole.”
When he came back, he was finally wearing his own jeans and in a completely different mood. I began to think he’d smoked some of Charlie’s pot.
“Okay, let’s do this!” he proclaimed, pumping his fists in the air and starting the truck.
“This isn’t a pep rally. Calm down.”
“I’m being supportive. There’s a difference.”
“Is that so?” I snorted. “I couldn’t tell.”
“You don’t have to be so harsh. I’m only trying to be encouraging.”
“How about you focus and drive to the goddamn hospital!” I snapped, slapping the back of his head. “That would be supportive.”
He glared. “Stop hitting me.”
“Since I will be popping a child out of my crankcase today, I will do whatever the fuck I want.” I slapped him again. “Now drive!”
“You should be nicer to me. I’m the one driving.”
I sighed heavily. “No, you’re not driving. You’re sitting here wearing one of my maternity shirts and arguing with me about being nicer to you.” I pointed to his shirt and leaned back in the seat, as his eyes drifted to his shirt. “You should look in your closet for your clothes. I don’t know how many times I have to tell you, but mine is the one on the left, not yours.”
Smugly, he got out to change his shirt and came back with a muffin in hand and another bottle of water. I reached for the muffin, rolled the window down and tossed it in the driveway. “I can’t eat, so neither can you, asshole.”
After a good twenty minutes of this bullshit, we finally made our way to St. Peters Hospital in Olympia, only to have Jameson go the wrong way, twice, and then ask to stop at Burger King because he was hungry.
My response went something like this: “Go ahead, but if you eat in front of me, I will chop your dick off. No lie.”
He didn’t stop, but he did complain the entire trip about how he was starving and that I had no right to throw his muffin out the window. I had no sympathy for him or his stupid muffin.
On the way there, I called our family and let them know we were heading to the hospital and wouldn’t be there for Christmas morning. Instead, we’d be bringing our son into the world if we stopped arguing long enough to actually get there.
I still couldn’t grasp that this was it. For the past few months, I had imagined what this would be like—going into labor. Now that it was finally here, I had no idea what to do. I was a nervous fucking wreck and muffin boy beside me wasn’t any better.
Spencer and Alley were already in Olympia so they were the first to arrive, although I didn’t want Spencer anywhere near the hospital when I had the baby.
I was frightened enough thinking a child was supposed to come out of my crankcase making it the size of the Grand Canyon.
That shit would never be the same.
Dr. Sears met us on the labor and delivery floor as soon as we arrived. After getting us settled in a room and hooking up the monitors, he sat down to give us the news.
“Sway, your water has broken.”
Well, at least I knew I didn’t pee; that was slightly reassuring.
“I need to do an exam,” he said, putting his gloves on.
Immediately I felt Jameson’s hand tense around mine when he checked my cervix. I was sure this was awkward for him to watch. Who would want to watch another man stick his fingers inside his wife’s crankcase to check her bearing alignment?
Definitely not Jameson.
When the doctor hadn’t moved his hand as quickly as my overbearing husband wanted, Jameson shot him a glare.
“Are you finished yet?”
Dr. Sears ignored him and delivered the news I was dreading. “So it looks like you are fully effaced and dilated to a five. You’re measuring at thirty-four weeks, and the baby looked great on the last ultrasound. If everything goes okay, we should have him in your arms this evening depending on how your contractions progress. It looks like we’ll have a Christmas baby!”
This should have been good news to me, but the word contraction was haunting me. I didn’t like that word—feared it actually.
“What are contractions?” I asked with a hesitation a mother-to-be shouldn’t have. I skipped certain parts of those pregnancy books for a reason. Denial. “I mean... I understand they’re like cramps, right?”
“Yes, Sway.” Dr. Sears laughed, but held some concern for his patient and her being a dumb shit. He was probably wondering if he should call social services now in fear this child shouldn’t be with someone like me. I would if I was him.
“The contractions are what push the baby out.”
“Do they hurt?”
His brow furrowed, and his eyes darted between Jameson and me.
“Well, I’ve never had a baby, but from what the women I treat say, yes... badly.”
“Can’t you just knock me out?” I whined.
“No, we don’t do that these days.”
“Shit.”
I looked down at my bulging belly and wondered why he couldn’t have magical powers and just magical-power his way out of me.
Jameson reached for my hand, pulling it to his lips. A small smirk appeared across his lips as though he was thankful he wasn’t the one doing this.
“It’s okay, honey,” he had the nerve to say. “You’ll do fine.”
“Do me a favor,” I told him, pulling my hand away. “Don’t say that. For the sake of my sanity through this, do not say everything will be fine.” I motioned to my stomach. “There is a watermelon trying to squeeze out of my crankcase right now. IT IS NOT FINE!”
He laughed. Fucking laughed.
I tried to keep Jameson and myself calm as the nurses went to work, but clearly, I was freaking the fuck out. Jameson wasn’t doing any better. I swore to myself at one point if he ran his hands through his hair one more time I was going to junk punch him.
Usually, I found this sexy, the whole stressed Jameson, running his hands through his wild hair, but right then, it was irritating the hell out of me, which was precisely why Spencer wasn’t allowed in the room.
He and Alley showed up a little while after we got here, and Spencer decided it was appropriate to eat a breakfast sandwich in front of me while I was, in fact, starving to death.
“I wouldn’t go to sleep tonight if I were you,” was my response.
“I forgot how scary you can be,” he replied, backing away.
I kicked him out to the waiting room after that. He reluctantly left after making more than one reference to my crankcase and the fact that Jameson would need a GPS to navigate his way around after the baby came out.
How Alley could stand him was beyond me.
Emma stepped in for a moment and teased Jameson about not having sex for six weeks after the baby was born.
“I’m not talking about my sex life with you,” Jameson replied harshly. “That’s inappropriate.”
“It’s not inappropriate,” she told him, taking a drink of her mocha, which pissed me off because I really wanted coffee. “I’m your sister, not your mother. We can talk about sex.”
“No, no we can’t. We’re not close,” he went on to say. “That’s not something we talk about.”
Emma started crying. I had no idea why, but she left. It might have had something to do with the fact that Jameson just told her they weren’t close, but I couldn’t be sure, and I really didn’t fucking care at that moment. My insides felt like they were being ripped apart, spark plug by spark plug.
“You should go comfort her,” I told Jameson who had just picked up a magazine.
“Why?” He didn’t look up but shook his head. “I don’t want to talk to her.”
“Because you made her cry,”
“She’s a girl,” he said. “Girls cry.”
Another contraction hit me, and I swear on all that was holy my fuel pump gave way.
“I’m never having sex with you again!” I yelled in the midst of the contraction. “I’m serious this time.”
Jameson threw me a frantic glance. “That’s a bit drastic. Don’t you think?”
“No... I don’t!”
“Just calm down... everything is ...” my murderous glare cut him off. “Sorry,” he mumbled and looked out the window.
“Merry Christmas!” Spencer walked in wearing a Santa Claus hat with Tommy behind him. “Smile for the camera.”
I can imagine what that picture would have looked like.
I turned to Jameson. “If I stabbed Spencer with a fork, do you think I’d get arrested?”
He shrugged.
“No, Emma didn’t. Just make it look like an accident.”
He grabbed Spencer by the sweatshirt he was wearing and flung him toward me.
“Here, hold out that fork, and I’ll trip him. Problem solved.”
Spencer left after that.
“Good plan, honey.” I high-fived him. “I like the way you think.”
“We make a good team,” he agreed.
Nancy and Jimi came in after that just to say hello and wish us good luck and Merry Christmas. I kept adjusting my blanket to make sure Jimi couldn’t see anything.
He noticed, and just like his sons, felt the need to embarrass me.
“Sweetheart,” he drawled out slowly. “I’m damn near fifty years old... I’ve seen it all before.”
Jameson realized what I was covering up.
“That doesn’t mean you need to see it!” he barked at his dad, handing me another cup of ice chips. “Stop looking.”
“Okay... well... we will be in the waiting room,” Nancy announced and leaned down to kiss my forehead. “You look great.”
“You don’t have to lie.”
“Yes, I do,” she smiled and patted my shoulder. “After almost thirty years of being married to a Riley... you’d learn to lie as well.”
Charlie was the last to come in and didn’t stay very long once the contractions started to pick up, and I began to sound like a drowning feral cat. He did wish us a Merry Christmas and sent me into another emotional frenzy when he gave me a heart-shaped locket he’d given my mother when I was born.
It took me a good hour to recover.
When the narcotics kicked in, I started to calm my inner demons and the need to junk punch my husband abated. That was a good thing if I wanted more kids in the future.
Suddenly I was relieved to have this wonderful man by my side. I knew it was the drugs talking, but I was grateful regardless.
He held me and ran his fingers through my hair as they put the needle in my back, whispering that he loved me. He added, “Even if you did throw my muffin away,” with a hint of resentment.
Once the contractions increased, and I started to feel like I was having the baby any minute—Jameson freaked out and left the room, which brought me to another round of hysterics.
Alley stepped in to take his place and said that Aiden was comforting Emma but just told Jameson if he didn’t get his ass back in here he was going to junk punch him for me.
There was a lot of threatening punches going on today.
I thought poor Emma was freaking out because she saw how much pain I was in and that Jameson said they weren’t close, but came to find out she was freaking out at the gowns they made you wear.
Some days I couldn’t believe I married into this madness.
Alley sat there comforting me. The more I watched her, though, the more I realized something was incredibly different, besides the fact that her hair was back to one color.
“What is up with you? You are all perky and cheerful.”
“Nothing,” she smiled. “This is exciting. You’re having a baby... like really having a baby.”
“So everyone keeps saying.” I rolled my eyes. “Why are you excited?”
“I’m uh ...” She smiled widely.
“You just found out, didn’t you?” Yesterday she had the sneaking suspicion she might be pregnant again.
Alley nodded with a smile. “But let’s not focus on that right now. Today is about you guys and this little guy coming out of you.”
I didn’t like the phrase, coming out. It reminded me of some kind of alien movie or some shit.
Jameson came back in a few minutes later, looking smug, and a little frightened that Aiden also threatened to junk punch him.
“What happened to you?” I seethed.
“I’m sorry,” his head hung. “I got scared.”
“You got scared? The Jameson I married is a force of nature... passionate, determined and focused, and never second guesses himself.” I had no idea where the words were even coming from—they kept flowing. I was possessed. “What happened to you? You’ve gone soft on me.”
He leaned over, kissing my forehead as he whispered he was sorry once again, ignoring my silly rant.
I, of course, pumped full of so many narcotics, forgave him.
I was too scared not to forgive him. I honestly thought I was going to die. All I kept thinking about was on top of how bad this all hurt, from now on everything would be different. The world no longer revolved around Jameson and me, but it would also include another human being who had needs. This wasn’t a hamster or Mr. Jangles. I couldn’t forget to feed him or bathe him; he would have real life needs, and I was pretty sure I was not qualified for it and neither was Jameson.
Jameson moved closer and sat behind me in the bed so he could wrap his arms around me.
“I don’t think you guys gave me enough crack.” I was referring to the epidural as crack. “I think I may need more of the crack.”
“Just breathe, honey,” Jameson whispered to me when I started pushing.
“No! I will not breathe until I get more crack!”
“We can’t give you any more,” Dr. Sears told me with his head between my legs. I felt like asking him how the view was. “Sway, the baby is crowning. You need to push and breathe.”
I slammed my legs shut, the slap of my thighs echoed throughout the room.
“What the fuck is crowning?” I asked frantically. “That does not sound good. It’s not normal, is it?”
“Yes, it is normal,” he told us, and I say us because when Dr. Sears said the word crowning I felt every muscle in Jameson’s body clench in horror. “The baby is ready to come out, just push!”
“No... I don’t want to do this anymore!” I wailed, clawing at Jameson.
“It’s a little late for that. Sway, you need to push. If you don’t push, the baby will go into distress. Please, push,” he urged.
In a simple gesture to calm me, he rubbed my thigh, but Jameson didn’t take it as a simple gesture.
“Do you mind not touching my wife’s leg like that?” he growled.
“I’m only trying to get her to push so your child can be born,” Dr. Sears answered.
“Do that without touching her,” Jameson suggested.
“Physically impossible, Jameson,” Dr. Sears shot back. “Now both of you concentrate, the baby is crowning.”
“Stop saying that word!” Jameson and I yelled together.
The word was just disgusting and made me think of... never mind... I won’t even repeat what I was thinking—just use your imagination.
Dr. Sears laughed.
“Do you want to see?” he asked Jameson.
“Uh... no... that’s all right,” Jameson replied timorously.
“I don’t blame you,” I said to him.
People said childbirth was a beautiful thing... another crock of shit in my book. It was sweaty, painful, bloody, gooey... did more need to be said? It wasn’t beautiful to me. It was disgusting.
I tried to practice my breathing and actually calm myself, but I only resembled something out of The Exorcist. At one point, Jameson actually looked afraid of me. If I could just calm down, I could act like a normal version of myself and everything would be okay, but I was freaking the fuck out.
Jameson was perspiring like a professional soccer player behind me.
“What are you on?” I asked him in between pushes. “You’re dripping.”
“Sorry... this is intense.” He was panting almost as much as I was as he wiped sweat from his forehead.
I turned a little to look at him. “Hey, asshole,” I whispered harshly. “Just imagine what I’m going through.”
He let out a nervous chuckle and ran his hand through his hair.
When I actually started pushing, we had to kick Spencer out for trying to see if he could help given he had the skills needed to catch a baby with his experience on the pit crew … fucking jackass.
I was absolutely horrified that Spencer might have gotten a view of my crankcase that I threw the closest thing I could find at him. He was now in the ER getting stitches above his eye because the closest thing I could find happened to be a camera. I threw it pretty hard, but could you blame me?
I felt like I’d been pushing for hours when I felt an insane amount of pressure. Dr. Sears pushed on my stomach to turn the baby slightly. Jameson had his head down next to my ear, whispering words of love and adoration, which just annoyed me. His head didn’t shoot up until we heard a cry shriek through the room.
“Here he is!” Dr. Sears announced, holding him in the air. “It’s a boy!”
And there, flailing around like our tiny adorable flailing spaz was our son, covered in the most disgusting gooey mess I’d ever seen. In the beginning of the pregnancy I thought of him as a parasite—this just confirmed my thoughts. He actually looked like one.
I burst into tears as I turned to see the shock on Jameson’s face as he looked at him. I couldn’t get a good view of the baby yet. All I saw were flailing arms and legs. I thought he’d be crying, but after the first couple cries, he stopped.
My heart sank thinking something was wrong with him.
“Is he okay?”
Jameson’s nervous eyes followed our little boy until they brought him to rest in his arms. Jameson turned to show him to me as he pulled the blanket down off his head. “He’s fine, honey.”
It was the most beautiful sight I had ever seen in my life. Even with the goo still coating him in spots, I could see the shock of silky rusty hair lying on his head in an unruly mess of waves. He wasn’t a parasite after all.
“Sway, look at him, he’s beautiful. He blinks and everything.”
The tears in Jameson’s eyes said it all as he placed our infant son in my arms.
Despite this beautiful image, I kept focusing on the fact that he didn’t understand that babies blinked.
What did he think they did?
I wondered what he would do when he found out they pooped, too.
Those concerns disappeared when Jameson brought his free palm to my face.
“I love you,” we both whispered together, feeling the moment.
We stared in awe at this tiny creature that was now ours; and the nerves, fear, exhaustion, and medication set in … and I vomited all over the place.
I felt so much better the moment I knew they were both okay. When I looked down at him, I could see so much of Sway, but there was no denying that color of hair—my hair, my mother’s hair.
Sway made me go take pictures before they took him to the NICU for some tests. I got pictures of him being weighed and measured. Then a nurse took a picture of me holding his hands and kissing his tiny feet and forehead. As I snapped photos, I noticed that he also had my long fingers and my exact lips. It was like looking into a mirror.
When they took him away, Sway told me to go tell our family everything was fine. I went out to the waiting room to find them all waiting anxiously.
“Well?” Emma ran over to me. She looked happier.
At least she calmed down after her little emotional breakdown. I still kept my distance from her just in case she felt the need to hit me again.
“He is fine. He’s in the NICU for now, but if he does well, he’ll only be there for a couple of days.”
“We want details!” Alley shoved my chest.
“Okay, Jesus.” I told them about his birth, including the parts where Sway freaked out on me. They needed to know those details. I was sure of it.
As I told them everything, I looked to see my mom and Andrea wiping a few tears from their cheeks. Of course they were crying. It seemed to be what women did around babies.
My dad, while rolling his eyes, passed a nearby tissue box to her, and then she passed it on to Alley and Emma who were apparently having issues as well.
“He is little at five pounds, two ounces and seventeen inches long. They do have him on a little bit of oxygen, but the doctors say it’s probably just temporary.”
they wanted to see the pictures so I gave them the camera and let them have at it. You couldn’t wipe the smile off my face at that point. I was a father. And Sway was a mother. Such a strange concept for me to grasp at the moment.
I went sit next to Charlie and nudged his leg. “You happy, Dad?”
He smiled and nodded.
“Yeah, I’m just so... hell, I’m relieved.” He shrugged and looked down at his feet. “I never thought I’d see the day she became a mother. Or the day you made her one.” He laughed lightly.
“I know what you mean.” I was about to say more until Emma interrupted us.
“Hey, asshole. What’s his name?” Emma asked, looking up from the camera.
I smiled. “We haven’t decided yet.”
Everyone had been asking for weeks what we’d name him, but we had yet to agree on one. I knew what I wanted, but I wasn’t so sure Sway would be okay with it.
Lane snuck on my lap.
“He cute?” he asked curiously.
“Yeah, he’s pretty cute.” I smiled at him. “Are you excited to have a cousin?”
“Sure am!” he announced. “I’m gonna get him a gift.”
He then grabbed Spencer’s hand and walked toward the gift shop.
Spencer glanced down at him as they waited for the elevator. “You can get him anything you want—just no cougars. His dad will go apeshit.”
“Noted,” Lane said, nodding.
A few hours later, I sat there quietly watching my beautiful wife sleep as I rocked our newborn baby. He was handsome—no surprise there—and perfect. His features reminded me of myself, but I could see Sway in there as well. He was a perfect mix of the two of us blended together.
He seemed to have my exact hair color and texture with loops that flung out at the ends. You couldn’t tell what his eye color would be, but I assumed he’d have green since both of us had green. One thing he did have that I found particularly adorable was Sway’s nose. Sway had an adorable button nose, which our son now had. Our son.
It felt almost anomalous to think I was now a father.
He looked up at me and, in that moment, I knew just like his mother, I could never deny him of anything. Sway was everything to me, and I never knew that I could love anything as much as I loved her until our son was placed in my arms.
He instantly had me wrapped around his finger; my reason for existence had just doubled. Nothing else mattered more than these two. Not racing, not the championship, nothing.
I gently rocked him, humming softly. Soon, he wormed his way closer to me, just as Sway always did, and fell asleep.
My eyes focused on Sway again. Her lips were pushed out into that adorable pout she had when sleeping, her cheeks flushed from the exertion she put forth today. She was beautiful, and she had just given me the best Christmas gift anyone could have possibly given me.
She made me a father. Winning the championship this year had nothing on this feeling.
“You know, kid,” Charlie said, holding the baby against his chest. “Your parents are stupid sometimes, but the smartest thing they did was bring you into this world.”
“Wow, Dad, thanks... I think.” I adjusted the blanket surrounding me to hide away the funbags.
“Sway, it’s not the destination you choose. It’s the journey you take to get there.”
“What does that even mean?”
“Fuck if I know. I saw it on a commercial... I think. Or maybe it was a billboard?” His brow furrowed in confusion. “Or maybe it was in a fortune cookie?” Charlie’s memory was fading these days so I wasn’t surprised he didn’t remember. “Regardless, it seemed like a responsible bit of wisdom.”
Just then, the baby sneezed and Jameson’s frantic eyes met mine. “He sneezes, like a tiny human.”
Charlie looked over at me, concerned. I felt the need to explain.
“Apparently Jameson thought we were having a non-human baby who doesn’t sneeze or blink.”
Charlie responded, “You two should take a class or something. Maybe a book would help.”
Alley and Spencer, along with Lane, were the next to come in.
Watching Lane with his cousin was adorable. He tried to be so gentle with him when Spencer just tried to toss him around. This also caused a brawl between Jameson and Spencer that Aiden had to separate.
I was too distracted by the size of my funbags to care about their stupid brawl. It was like magic; the funbags seemed to have grown in a matter of hours. “My boobs are huge!” I announced to no one in particular. “Like really huge... is that normal?”
“It’s awesome,” Jameson replied, gawking at them as Alley held the baby.
Alley snorted. “You won’t think it’s awesome soon... she’ll kill you if you touch them.”
A few hours later, it was just Jameson and I with the baby. It was nice to finally be alone with my boys—on Christmas.
I loved thinking of the idea that we had a child together.
To some people it might’ve just been a baby. But it was more to me. Just his tiny presence in our world was a big deal for us. We had been through so much in these last nine months, and to finally have him here, healthy, was such a relief. I also took comfort in the fact that I was no longer Jameson’s pit lizard. I was his wife, his wizard. And together, under not so ideal circumstances, we created another life that brought us closer than ever. We were one person.
There were so many words I would use to describe what Jameson was to me, most of which wouldn’t do us justice. We had a bond that never wavered or faltered. Sure, we argued relentlessly at times about things as insignificant as muffins, but we had a bond. It was a bond that had been built on friendship, love, tragedy, loss, and so much more. He had become my soul mate.
Jameson sat there quietly, holding the baby, looking over the book Dr. Sears gave us on caring for him, and I daydreamed about fairytales.
“Jesus Christ, it’s like a gremlin; he comes with instructions, Sway.” He tossed the book aside and focused all his attention back on our son. “You’re adorable, little buddy,” he cooed.
Charlie was right. We needed to take a class.
“We should decide on a name,” Jameson murmured, brushing his fingertips over our son’s flushed cheeks.
“I know what you want to name him,” I whispered, watching them together. Seeing my husband holding our newborn son was enough to send me into another round of complete emotional hysteria, but I held back.
Jameson laughed and let out a whoosh of air. “Am I that transparent?”
“No,” I smiled, reaching for his hand. “You forgot we share a brain.”
“You’re okay with it?”
“I think it’s a perfect name for him.”
He maneuvered his way into the bed with me, placing the baby in my arms.
“Merry Christmas, honey,” he whispered before placing a tender kiss on my forehead and leaning down to kiss the baby.
My heart nearly stopped when he said our son’s name for the first time.