Thank You, Baby

 

I stand, looking across the vast tent at my now husband holding Cara in her poufy white dress, the same shade as mine.  They’re standing to the side of the dance floor talking to some old friends he played football with in college.  A couple of them played in the pros for a few years and one still plays for the Cowboys.  He was only able to come tonight because he has a home game tomorrow.  How cool is that?

But my man is on a football high right now and that’s because last weekend he took his team to the state playoffs and won.  It was exciting. We were all there to see it, and by all, I mean all the Carpino’s and all the Montgomery’s. 

Yes, the Carpino’s and the Montgomery’s get on like they’ve been family friends for years.  But they would.  They’re cut from the same cloth, even if one is Western where the other is Midwestern. 

And I learned that Hattie rivals Lizzie for the most meddlesome mom.  She made me nervous when she came to visit last week for the big football state championship game and went shopping by herself.  When she returned, she didn’t have shoes or purses.  She had tile samples, paint samples and cabinet doors in an array of colors and finishes.  She asked me what I liked.  I got nervous and called Cam.  He muttered a string of curse words and said he’d call me right back.  Three short minutes later, he growled over the phone, “Pick what you like.  She said you need a decent master bath before the baby comes.”

I argued.  The master bath might not be pretty, but it was fine.

“Baby, you pulled me out of a faculty meeting and I have a state championship game to think about.  I don’t have time for tile or my mother.  She’ll do what she wants—pick what you like or be surprised.”

So I picked tile when I’ve never picked tile before.  Hattie happily approved, I must not have done too bad.  However, the nursery is now on the top of my to-do list when we get back from our honeymoon.  I don’t need anyone hijacking my nursery. 

My sisters, cousins and aunts, along with Cam’s sisters, are all swinging each other around the dance floor, per usual, when there’s a family event with music.  The men are looking on from the side in tuxes and suits, everyone has lost their ties at this point in the evening and cuffs are rolled. 

It’s the end of November, but the air is barely crisp in Texas.  Our early evening wedding was perfect under the enormous cluster of live oaks.  The colors of fall were stunning in the evening light.  Besides some flowers near the altar that Cam’s dad had custom made for our wedding, it was flawless.  Anything more would have ruined it. 

Our guests sat on antique pews that Ellie scored from an old church.  They’re dark, weathered and looked perfectly at home in the woods.  Leigh even thought to have matching blankets at the end of each, in case anyone caught a chill. 

The ceremony was simple, or as simple as we could keep it with the Montgomery family pastor leading the way.  He didn’t get too out-of-hand and luckily, Cam kept him from hugging me so I didn’t smell like his cologne the rest of the night. 

Leigh has broken off from the pack on the dance floor, her belly leading the way.  Besides her growing tummy, she looks exactly the same.  Other than her boobs, that is, which are normally lacking.  But she’s rocking her strapless dress with the empire waist showing off her new-found cleavage.  The flowy material below her chest is floor length in the palest of golds.  Leigh is thrilled beyond reason with the style because she finally has the shape of body that can hold up a strapless dress. 

“Girlie, your boobs are going to pop out of that gown,” she says as she plops herself down in a chair next to me.

“I know,” I agree, looking down at my dress.  The neckline dips to the band below my cleavage and a week ago it was perfect.  I didn’t count on my boobs blowing up overnight like they did.  I thought my mother was going to have a fit when I put it on before the wedding. 

When I reached Cam at the altar, he eyed my cleavage with a raised eyebrow.  I gave him a little shrug and shake of my head.  Then I felt his eyes rake over me and I had to smile because even if he didn’t approve, he approved.  He’s shown, and told me, over the past weeks how he loves my changing body.  And that made me fidget, even at the altar.  I knew he caught it too, because he rounded my waist with his arm and pulled me tight to his side, narrowing his eyes on me. 

Even though my bump is still small, I opted for an empire waist as well, just in case.  It’s still slim and somewhat fitted, showing off the fact that I’m pregnant, which I love.  My dress is simple like me, all silk with no adornment, the thinnest of straps holding it up with a short kick train.  My back is bare, showing off plenty of skin, making it sexy yet chic.  I love it—it’s elegant and matches the rest of our wedding.  My hair, as opposed to my dress, is complicated.  It’s collected at the base of my neck in a million different twists, knots and curls. 

“You’ve gone quiet, you okay?” Leigh asks.

I do what’s become a habit when my hands aren’t busy, and rub my tummy with our growing baby, “I’m thinking about Rosa.  I wish she were here.”

I think about my friend who I miss more than ever, especially now that things have settled down and we’ve fallen into a routine—a routine that doesn’t include Friday afternoons chatting and laughing with my elderly friend.  I miss her bossiness, I miss her words of wisdom and I miss her texts.  And I cannot bring myself to buy fudgesicles.  Every time I pass them in the freezer section, they bring tears to my eyes. 

That’s stupid, I know.  Ice cream treats on a stick should not make you cry.  Maybe it’s the hormones because everything makes me cry these days, but I just can’t get a handle on it. 

“I miss her,” Leigh sighs, sitting back and rubbing her bigger bump.  “She would have been a perfect adoptive grandmother for the boys.  My mom is a mess and Tony’s going to have a fit when she wants to come and see them.”

“I miss her, too,” I agree softly, but smile when I see Cara put her hands to Cam’s face, pulling it to her so she has his attention.  Whatever she says makes him smile big at his sweet girl and he rubs his face in her neck making her squeal. 

And just like always when Cam makes a hot dad move, I fall in love with my man all over again.  

*****

Five and a half months later…

 

She starts to stir.

And I don’t mean the perfect, tiny like her mama, one-day-old dark-headed baby sleeping on my chest.  I mean my wife.

The last twenty-four hours has been a fucking nightmare and an answered prayer. 

Paige went past her due date, showing no signs of going into labor on her own and the doctor said it was time to induce.  I don’t care how badly Paige wanted to have babies, her body wasn’t cooperating.  It turned into an emergency cesarean and I can’t say it wasn’t scary as shit.  It fucking was. 

Rose’s heart rate dropped and Paige’s blood pressure went up.  But the doctors did their job, it went fast and in the end, I got to be there when our daughter was born.  I’ve already asked and next time we’ll schedule the surgery.  I never want to go through that again. 

But now, in the middle of the night in her darkened maternity hospital room, her big brown eyes open and she turns her head toward Rose and me. 

“Go back to sleep,” I whisper.  “She’s good—I bet you can get another forty-five minutes before she’ll want to eat.”

Her tired face smiles softly when she whispers, “You’re beautiful.”

I frown but grin as I bring my hand up to Rose’s blanket-covered bottom to settle her as she tries to pull her knees in and say, “I’ve been called a lot of things, darlin’, but never that.”

“That’s because you weren’t holding our baby before,” she keeps on a whisper.

I put my other hand up to Rose’s back and head, spanning half her body she’s so small, and stand.  I transfer her easily to the crook of my arm and bend to kiss her mom.

Leaning up a bit, I look into her eyes, “Thank you, baby.”

“For what?” she whispers.

“I almost missed out on this.  Your sweet just keeps on coming—I don’t know what I would’ve done without it,” I whisper back.

“Love you.”

“Love you, too, Paige.”

“Cam?” she calls unnecessarily.

“Yeah?”

“I think I’m ready for a fudgesicle.”

I smile at my wife.

“Then I’ll get you one.”