Phillip’s parents are in town this week for the Fourth of July festivities, although Mr. Mac isn’t going to be here tonight. He left for Dallas with one of the guys on their Board of Directors this afternoon after our board meeting. When we walk in our house, Phillip and I are greeted with a wonderful smell.
“Is that fried chicken?” I ask Phillip’s mom as I pet Angel and tell her not to jump on me.
“Chicken-fried chicken, corn on the cob, mashed potatoes, gravy, and homemade biscuits,” she says.
I’m about to kiss the woman until I see a different kind of chicken.
Not just a chicken, mind you, lots of chickens. A whole coop’s worth, staring down at me from the top of my cabinets.
“Uh, is it theme night?” I ask hopefully.
She looks up. “I thought your cabinets looked a little bare, so I decorated them. What do you think?”
Surely, she can tell by the horrified look on my face that I hate them.
I quickly smile. “Uh, thanks. That was sweet of you. I’m gonna go change. I’ll be right back.”
I walk in on Phillip undressing. He’s in the process of loosening his tie, and he is only wearing boxer briefs and his dress shirt. I want to grab a bowl of popcorn and watch.
“You look really sexy,” I tell him. “I wish every day was Board day.”
He finishes undoing his tie, pulls it from around his neck, tosses it over me like a lasso, and pulls me toward him.
“I’d say that was a cool little trick, but I’m a pretty big target these days,” I say as he kisses me.
“You’re a beautiful target. Although do you think you should still be wearing heels?”
I look down at the most conservative mid-heel pumps I own. “Uh, these really don’t qualify as heels.”
“I was reading that your muscles and ligaments are loose right now and that you’ll become more clumsy.”
“Phillip, my cute shoes are about the only things that still fit me.” I hold up my hand. “And don’t you dare say yoga pants. They don’t count.”
Phillip laughs. “So, chickens.”
“Yeah, they have to go. But, since my ligaments are stretching and all and I don’t want to be clumsy in front of your mom, I’ll leave it to you to tell her to take them back.”
“Get changed and let’s go eat,” he says, playfully slapping my butt.
“I invited Danny and Lori over,” Phillip’s mom says as we return to the kitchen. “They should be here shortly.”
Just as soon as she gets the words out of her mouth, the front door opens, and the Diamond family strolls in. And I’m pretty sure they’ve brought half their house with them.
Danny has Devaney in a baby carrier. Slung over his shoulder is a massive diaper bag, and in his other hand is some sort of pink contraption. Lori has another small bag along with a blanket, a baby radio, and a baby jungle gym.
“Angel, down,” Phillip says when Angel jumps up on Danny.
Danny sets the baby carrier on the floor, so he can empty his hands. Angel sniffs Devaney’s toes and then licks across the face.
Devaney smiles.
“Ohmigawd!” Lori screeches. “Get the dog away from the baby!”
Angel doesn’t like the pitch of Lori’s voice because she scurries under the dining room hutch and won’t come out. Mrs. Mac finally bribes her with a treat, and Phillip decides to put her in her kennel.
I touch Devaney’s little chin and smile. Her eyes are a shade of brilliant blue just like her daddy’s.
“You definitely showed up for the party,” Phillip says to Danny. “She looks so much like you.”
“She has Danny’s eyes, but her sweet heart-shaped face is just like her mom’s,” Mrs. Mac compliments.
“Thanks,” Lori says.
“How are you guys getting along?” Mrs. Mac asks as everyone gets situated around the dining room table.
“Some nights are better than others,” Lori says. “She’s starting to sleep a little more.”
“Once we actually get her to sleep,” Danny clarifies. “And, although it was wonderful, having our parents here to help, it’s nice to have it back to just our family.”
Mrs. Mac passes the serving bowls, and we load up our plates.
The second we’re ready to dig in, Devaney starts crying.
“I just fed her before we came over,” Lori says.
I walk around the table, pick the carrier up off the floor, and put it on the table. “Maybe she doesn’t like being away from the action,” I offer. “Do you, Devaney?” I say to the baby.
She stops crying and replies by blowing bubbles out of her little pink bow-shaped mouth. I make a face at her, and she coos.
“She’s so cute. I bet you just sit around all day, staring at her adorableness.”
“You have no idea how much work a baby is,” Lori states haughtily.
“We have a puppy. We’re breaking ourselves in slowly.” I laugh.
Everyone laughs, except for Lori.
“You can’t put your baby in a kennel,” Lori replies. “Big difference.”
“No, but she has a crib, doesn’t she?” Mrs. Mac asks politely.
Point for Mrs. Mac.
But I’m still not keeping the chickens.
“Of course she has a crib,” Lori says. “What’s that got to do with it?”
“Do you ever put her in her crib when she’s crying?”
“No! I’m a good mother! I could never do that!”
Mrs. Mac shakes her head. “You need to let your baby cry occasionally. How else are you going to teach her how to calm herself down?”
“I, uh, I don’t know,” Lori says, looking confused.
“I’m not saying you should let her cry for hours or even very many minutes, but letting a baby cry for a bit isn’t going to hurt them. And you might even be shocked that she’ll cry herself to sleep.”
“I don’t ever want my child to cry herself to sleep!”
“You’re in for a long road then,” Mrs. Mac replies. “Sometimes, for your sanity, you have to put a crying baby down. Try doing it for thirty seconds at first. Then, check on her. Pat her back. Say something reassuring. Then, walk back out. Keep doing that for a few minutes, maybe five. If it doesn’t work, then at least you tried.”
“We should try that,” Danny says. As is typical, he’s game for trying anything once.
Devaney wails again. This time, she can’t be soothed with my voice.
“Put her in the rocker, Danny,” Lori orders.
Danny sets his fork down and assembles the ergonomically correct rocker. It’s like a mini baby swing that sits on the table. He swaps it for the carrier and gently picks up Devaney. He’s so good with her. And his love is apparent from the way he beams at her.
“Watch her neck!” Lori snaps.
“I’ve got her neck,” Danny says calmly. “Besides, it’s not so wobbly anymore, is it, little monkey? You’ve been lifting it up on your own.”
“She’s nine weeks. Of course she has been. She’s very advanced for her age—” Lori replies but stops when there is a loud noise coming from Devaney’s diaper area. Lori closes her eyes, sighs, and sets down her fork. She suddenly looks very tired.
“Why don’t you let me change her?” Mrs. Mac offers, grabbing the diaper bag and whisking the baby away.
“Always something,” Danny says, shoveling food into his mouth. “We haven’t sat down and eaten an uninterrupted meal since …”
“Before she was born,” Lori finishes his sentence and pushes her plate away. “I’m going to go check on them.”
The Diamonds make their way home quickly after dinner. Phillip and I clean up while his mom lets Angel out, and then she sits at the island. As I’m loading the dishwasher, I wonder if she feels like the chickens above her are out to get her. Because that’s kinda how they are making me feel. Like I’m being watched. I think about the Hide the Gnome game we were playing with Danny. How everything has come to a halt.
“They are typical first-time parents,” Mrs. Mac says. “I just want to hug them and give them advice, but they have to learn the hard way. I was like that with Ashley. The girl rarely slept in her crib. She always slept in my arms or in a bassinet next to the bed. I’d rock her to sleep. Couldn’t stand the sound of her crying. Crying felt like the sound of failure.
“Fast-forward a few years, and Phillip is a baby. I’m in the nursery, almost done feeding him, when I hear a boom coming from Ashley’s room. I took the bottle out of Phillip’s mouth, quickly laid him safely in his crib, and ran into her room. When I came back a few minutes later, Phillip was asleep. I stood there and just stared at him in wonder as I thought, They can do that? They can fall asleep on their own?
“It’s why firstborn children have the characteristics they do. They are coddled. I hope, when you have your baby, that you try to relax. Just because the baby makes a peep doesn’t mean you have to go running.”
“That’s good advice,” I say. “Remind us of that when our baby is screaming.”
“My mom made some interesting points tonight,” Phillip says as we’re lying in bed. “But I don’t know if I could let our baby cry.”
“I don’t know if I could either. Maybe if it was at intervals, like she said.”
“Even though Lori seemed horrified you compared her baby to our dog, you were right that it’s been good prep for us. We’re responsible for something besides ourselves.”
“Except that, for the most part, Angel hasn’t stopped us from doing stuff. We take her along.”
“Did you notice all the stuff they brought with them? It was like they were going away for a weekend, not dinner.”
“I thought so, too, when they walked in, Phillip, but they used a lot of it. The carrier. The swing. They changed her diaper twice and her outfit twice.”
“Was it twice?”
“Yeah, she blew out her diaper all over the first one and spit up all over the second one.”
“Hmm, I don’t know then.”
“So, I’ve been thinking more about names,” I say.
“Have you narrowed them down yet?” he asks. “We agreed we would each choose our two favorites, and then we would choose from one of those.”
“Yes, for a girl, I like Landyn and Emersyn the best. What about you?”
“I like Kennedy and Haley.”
“Those are both super cute. It’s going to be so hard to decide.”
“Let’s try them with the middle name,” Phillip suggests. “So, Landyn James Mackenzie. LJM. LJ. No real possible nickname but Lands’ End. Kennedy James Mackenzie. KJ. KJM. Hmm. I love the name Kennedy, but when paired with James and Mackenzie, it sounds like we mixed up the names of a bunch of dead presidents. I’d say that’s a pass.”
I nod my head, agreeing with him, and take ahold of his hand.
“Next up, Haley James Mackenzie,” he announces. “HJM. I think that’s pretty cute.”
“It is really pretty together.”
“I can’t come up with any bad nicknames either. We’ll leave that one as a contender. Okay, let’s try Emersyn James Mackenzie. EJM. We could call her Em. Maybe even Sunny. Definitely not EJ though.”
“What’s wrong with EJ? I think that’s cute.”
“Ejaculation,” Phillip says seriously. “And no boy better ever think that around my little girl. I’m just saying.” He pats his firm stomach. “I’ve gained ten pounds since you got pregnant.”
“Sympathy weight?” I ask.
“Hell no! I’m adding bulk, so I can whip some ass—particularly the ass of any skinny little punk who thinks he’d like to date my daughter.”
I laugh. “I think you have a few years before you have to worry about that.”
“I know, but I’ve been thinking about other stuff, too, like college funds.”
“Maybe we should focus on a diaper fund instead.”
“So, what do you think about Emersyn?”
“It used to be my favorite, but it’s not as pretty as Haley James. I think you picked the winner.”
“Really?” Phillip asks, practically glowing.
“If you like it the best, I like it the best, too.”
He sweetly kisses me. “I love it. It’s a beautiful name. I think we need to get cracking on the nursery, too.”
“Oh, I meant to tell you about that. I’ve decided on a color palette. Remember at Chelsea and Joey’s wedding, I mentioned the gorgeous colors of the hydrangeas? I was thinking those might be the perfect soft colors for the nursery. A pale green, a soft pink, dusty purple, and that gorgeous blue. It will go well with the blue-gray I want to do on the walls.”
“I think that would be nice.”
“Awesome. I’m going to draw up some plans for you to see.”
“I have some plans for you.”
“What kind of plans?”
“I know you’ve been having trouble falling asleep lately. I was reading that it might help if you had a nighttime routine.”
“Phillip, you know I hate routines.”
“This routine you might like. It’s a bedtime snack, followed by a bath or massage, and then some lovemaking.”
“Oh, you might be right,” I say, sliding my hand down his lean torso. “What’s our snack for tonight?”
He kisses me and then runs to the kitchen, bringing us back cookies and milk.
“This is the best bedtime ritual ever!” I tell him.
“I agree,” he says, dunking another Oreo into the milk and stuffing the entire thing in his mouth.
We eat Oreos differently. Always have. I pull the sandwich apart, scrape the cream off with my teeth, and then dunk the chocolate part in milk.
Phillip sets the empty plate on the nightstand and starts my massage. But my massage seems to be focused only on the area between my legs.
“Are we moving on to the lovemaking part already?”
We’re in the throes of passion, meaning we are getting it on, hot and heavy.
I’ve already had a few orgasms, but Phillip is still going strong. There’s got to be some correlation between pregnancy and orgasms because I can practically have one from just a bumpy car ride.
“Oh God,” I say as he thrusts harder, our headboard banging against the wall as Phillip nears the edge of release.
“Phillip dear!” his mother yells from outside our room, causing Phillip to freeze mid-pump. “I think someone might be knocking on the door, but it’s so late that I’m afraid to answer it.”
“Can she be that oblivious? Don’t she and your dad have sex?” I whisper.
“Oh God. I hope not,” Phillip says. “What am I supposed to do?” He takes a deep breath, rolls off me, throws on a pair of boxers, and goes to check the door.
When he gets back, he tells me, “Surprise, no one was at the door.”
I reach inside his pants.
“That is long gone.” He laughs, sliding his hand across my stomach. “Maybe we’ll try again—oh! What was that? Oh my God! That was it, wasn’t it? I felt the baby kick!”
“The baby is kicking like crazy right now. I’m pretty sure he’s going to be a gymnast. You really felt it?”
“I did. It was like your whole stomach moved.” He snuggles up to me, keeping his hand on my stomach and talking to it. “I just felt you kick, Baby Mac. And, although it was amazing to feel, it’s time for Mommy to get some sleep. So, why don’t you go to sleep, too?”
“Maybe you should sing us a lullaby,” I suggest.
And he does, sending me off to dreamland.
“Princess, wake up,” a faraway voice says.
I feel someone shaking me, but I’m screaming in pain as fire shoots across my nerves.
“My leg, my leg,” I murmur. “It’s broken.”
“Jadyn, wake up!” Phillip shakes my shoulder, tearing me away from the scene of the accident.
I reach down and hold my leg, which still hurts.
“What kind of creature did you give birth to this time?” He chuckles. “And how did you break your leg? Or was the baby a shark? No, I guess that would have eaten your leg.”
I shake my head. “I was in a car accident. Head-on, just like my parents. Well, not just like my parents. It was during the day, and it was raining. A car lost control and came at me. It all happened so fast. I tried to turn away. I could feel the car crumple around me, crushing me. And my leg hurt so bad, but then I was bleeding. And bleeding. My stomach was cut open, and the baby …” I start to cry. “The baby came out dead.” I throw my head into his chest and sob. “It felt so real.” I reach down and rub my leg. “And my leg still hurts.”
“Shh, it’s okay,” Phillip whispers. “That’s not going to happen. Our baby will be just fine. I promise.”
