Final Life Lesson: embrace the light
➸ Yarrow ☆
Even before Ginger is pregnant with her son, Rock, I decide to get healthier for when I’m ready to have a baby. I see how nausea makes Bay lose weight in the early months of her pregnancy. In case that happens to me, I want to put on extra pounds. Working out with Blackjack twice a week, I slowly build muscles too. While he pumps weights to keep his body super buff, I walk on the treadmill and watch CSPAN.
Blackjack refuses to join me for my yoga classes with Clove and Cayenne. I don’t blame him. The exercises are stupid except for the breathing ones. They help relax me in a healthy way. Instead of taking Ativan when I’m stressed, I either use visualization techniques or roll breathing. Closing my eyes, I imagine fucking or eating cookies or some variation of the two. It’s not easy to stay calm. Sometimes, I still scream at people who piss me off, but I learn not to depend so much on medication that won’t be good for our eventual baby.
By the time I get pregnant, I’m so mature that I no longer hurry past the mechanical room. I still think it’s scary—despite the nightlight—but I can calm myself better. Self-control sucks, but I have goals for my life that won’t happen if I don’t learn restraint.
Pregnancy isn’t that hard. Blackjack takes great care of me. He says I’m beautiful even when I’m sweaty or get pimples. I especially like when he rubs my belly and asks the baby what her name should be.
“Something snappy like Rosemary?” he says, and I assume his mom suggested the ugly name.
Unlike picking a name for Oyster, I can’t choose one for our baby for nine months or even after she’s born. I like too many while hating too many others. The crew tries everything to narrow down the list, but I’m stuck. When the hospital says I have to write down a name on the paperwork, I call her “Baby.”
Even without a name, she’s the most beautiful baby ever. I can’t believe she’s mine. Holding her, I marvel at how soft her skin is and how sweet she looks when she yawns. There is nothing I don’t love about the baby, but she really needs a name.
A week after we’re home, I have a dream where I’m back in the dark room. Ginger appears in the doorway, looking like an angel. Her blonde hair shines as bright as gold, and I’m drawn to the warmth of it.
Blackjack agrees to name our daughter Goldie, as long as he gets to pick any future boy names. I agree immediately since baby naming is one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.
Such a good daddy, Blackjack holds Goldie more than I do. He just can’t get enough of our baby. In those first months, we often spend entire days in the living room with her. She sleeps in her bassinette while I nap in my bag next to the couch where Blackjack crashes. Having such an amazing husband and baby makes me cry, but I promise everyone the frequent tears are from happiness.
One night in bed after the doctor says we can fuck again, Blackjack announces, “We’ll need to stock up on condoms now that you’re fertile again.”
“Pepper said we can buy them in bulk.”
His smile makes me want to ride his cock again. Yeah, we’ll need a whole lot of condoms if we want to avoid having baby number two for a while.
Goldie is nearly three when Boone comes along. During this C-section, I get my tubes tied, so we’ll no longer spend so much money keeping Trojan in business.
I’m really nervous about having two kids since caring for one is hard enough. Blackjack promises we can handle it. He’s wrong.
Goldie hates her little brother and screams whenever I get near the baby. Worse still, Boone has something called colic and screams whenever awake. With the kids’ screaming so much, no one can hear me freaking out too.
Before we lose our sanity, Blackjack calls in reinforcements. Grandma Barbra arrives to care for Boone. She bounces him like a football, and he stops crying. I don’t know why he likes that position, and I’m too tired to care. I just need him to be happy because he’s beautiful and I want to hold him without also wanting to yank out my hair.
The crew takes Goldie on outings whenever possible. They walk with her outside or play in the pool. The crew also babysits Boone once he feels better. That way, Goldie and I can enjoy alone time. Blackjack organizes everyone’s help, showing why he’s a great club VP.
“Bossing people around comes easily,” he says and gives me a wink when I compliment him one night.
Sometimes, I think about Blackjack and wonder if our life is real. Back in the dark room, I had strange dreams that felt so real. Is my life with Blackjack and our kids too good to be real?
Then I remind myself of all the details of my life that I could never have dreamed up. I didn’t know about painted elephants or swimming pools or zombies or having a family. No, I lack the imagination to create a world with so many amazing—and frustrating—moving parts.
That means I got lucky when a woman and her friends killed my father and dragged me out of the darkness and into a life where a man like Blackjack was waiting.