I’m sitting on the toilet lid in only my skin-colored maternity bra that supports my now huge hormone-induced triple Ds when Jenny, Brad, Chelsea, and Janis join us. Fortunately my giant protruding stomach hides my girl parts, so there’s really nothing to see other than a semi-nude pregnant chick, but I still lean forward just to give myself an ounce more dignity, and grab for an unused hand towel nearby. Now, at least I feel like I’m attempting to be modest.
Liza pulls out the clothes that I had stuffed into my tote. I wish that I had folded them nicely. She hands me my creased sweater first. I slip it over my head, so grateful for something soft against my hyperaware skin.
“Doctor Starr’s going to meet us at the hospital. I’ve called Carter and Miguel. They’re bringing the car into the parking garage. She said that there’s no need to rush because first-time mother’s babies are notoriously slow,” Brad informs me. Somehow, hearing him say the words that I’ve been saying in my head out loud gives me much more reassurance. I also like that he said the word notorious. Yes. They’re notoriously slow.
Jenny looks at me and says, “You want to call him, or you want me to do it?”
“No one’s calling Colin, yet. As a medical doctor and Doctor Starr just confirmed, first-time mother’s babies are notoriously slow.” I reinforce notoriously. “After Colin makes his speech, then you can tell him.” I say looking all of them in their eyes—especially Jenny.
In the almost two years that I’ve known her, I didn’t think that it was possible to shock her. However, I just did. “You’re not telling Colin, Caroline?” she says, shaking her Cowboy-blue hair as her eyes grow wide. She reaches out and grabs the doorjamb as if she needs the support.
“That’s what I said.” I really wish that I could stand so I could be in more of a position of power, but my unwaxed bits might cause Brad to pass out. “Colin will make it in plenty of time. We’re fine.”
Jenny bends so we’re on eye level, and begins talking to me as if I’m an errant child. “If you have that baby and Colin’s not there, he’ll never forgive you, Caroline. I mean, like, resent you his whole life. All that man’s wanted since I started working for him was to be a dad. Don’t deny him his moment.”
Talk about a knife to the heart. “Fine. Let me clean myself up. In private,” I add, “and I’ll think about it.”
Another contraction hits as the last person shuts the bathroom door. The pain is so intense that it makes me nauseous. I fly to my feet quicker than I thought possible, and turn around just in time to throw open the toilet lid. There’s a part of me that believes that my upset stomach has more to do with my decision not to tell Colin than my labor contraction. My nerves are shot. I don’t want to pull Colin away from one of the most important events in his life to sit at my bedside for another eighteen hours while I’m in labor. On the other hand, Jenny’s right. If Colin’s not there for the birth of his child, it’ll kill him.
After the contraction releases, I stand up, bracing myself against the sink counter while I rinse my mouth out. I take a long stare at myself in the mirror. This was not part of our perfect birth plan. The perfect birth plan states that I should go into labor after all the hoopla of the Super Bowl has settled down. Colin and I’ll drive to the hospital together while we listen to George Strait, and other music that we mutually can agree on. My hospital bag, which is at home, has been packed since last week. It’s got a beautiful pair of pajamas for me to put on after the baby’s born, and both a blue and pink blanket. There’s also a coming-home outfit in both colors. I’m going to attempt natural, drug-free childbirth until Colin can’t take my agony any longer and then, and only then, will I allow drugs. It dawns on me. I don’t even have a baby car-seat, for God’s sake.
Yet, here I stand, wetting a towel to wipe amniotic fluid off my legs while my mouth tastes like ass because I vomited up my breakfast while trying to decide if I tell the baby-daddy that he’s about to be a father.
I look down at my stomach and have a heart-to-heart with Baby McKinney. “Look, kid. I know that your mom and dad have passed on the unconventional, warp-speed relationship genes. It was a risk we took when we conceived you, but there’s not been a baby on this earth as wanted as you. You’ve got to stay put for a little while longer, because your daddy will murder your mommy if you’re born before he gets there.” In middle of my little speech I have another contraction. It’s almost as if this kid already has my personality.