One
“NO, NO, NO! I refuse to have our baby born on Christmas day!” After I voiced my protest, I was thankful no one heard me yelling at the mirror. My caring husband, Stanley, was in the garage, out of earshot. So was our little dog, Ben. As for my outburst, it was a reasonable reaction to my worry. After I got out of the shower and saw my very pregnant body, I had a sudden attack of guilt. What if I had our baby on Christmas day?
Ever since I was a kid, I was sure anyone who was born on the twenty-fifth of December was cheated. It wasn’t fair that they had to share their special day with what I consider the most glittery, outstanding holiday of the year.
So why didn’t Stanley and I do a better job of planning the birth of our child? The only answer I can offer is that love got in the way. I can lose all ability to think things through when I’m in Stanley’s arms. As time passes, I’m more in love with him than ever. So maybe love is the reason we might end up with a baby born on Christmas.
This situation wouldn’t have happened to the rational, level-headed person I’d once been. That Gloria meticulously arranged everything beforehand, down to the last canape served at a party. That Gloria is long gone. The new me has adopted a more flexible way of handling life. I’ve also been rash. I’ve said things and acted out my feelings without much thought.
During the last two holiday seasons, I allowed my emotions to run amok. The result of such behavior was very unpleasant for me and my family. Since then, I’ve worked on finding a better way to handle my feelings. Besides, I can’t make life all about me anymore. A baby needs someone who’s in charge of themselves.
As I got dressed, I smiled at the thought of being a sweet mother. The wonderful feeling helped my guilt to fade. I put on a roomy, white sweater and maternity jeans thinking about my due date. It’s the twenty-eighth of December. That means there’s every chance I could sail past Christmas with the baby still waiting in the wings.
I know there’s a better chance of that happening if I set up certain, firm rules for myself. No matter what happens around me, I have to remain peaceful and free of stress. In the past, I could quickly flounder if I was triggered in some way. However, I’ve been practicing control for months.
Of course those first weeks of pregnancy were a bit of a nightmare. But eventually, I did learn how to navigate my difficult mood swings. Happily, Stanley and my family all survived with a minimum of damage. Now, my determination is stronger than ever. From now on, I won’t even allow myself to yell at the mirror.
Thanksgiving is only a day away and a big family dinner is in the making. I’m looking forward to demonstrating the more mature me during all the festivities.
Two
I LEANED AGAINST the kitchen counter and stared out the back window. Snow, that heavenly stuff that transforms everything, was falling outside. A great multitude of fluff filled the air and settled on bare tree limbs and evergreens. Each flake’s touch was gentle and quiet, as light as one’s breath. Yet, in spite of the airy nature of the downfall, it could make the world look magical.
When I went to the stove and turned on the kettle, my thoughts returned to early morning, around five o’clock. I was still in my warm bed, and I woke up briefly. Stanley was next to me, holding me close, his hand on my belly, on our unbornbaby. It was a magical moment, like the falling snow. So quiet, so peaceful and yet, so full of love.
I went back to sleep, but Stanley didn’t. He often gets up very early. As a turnaround consultant who advises businesses in financial distress, he can usually work from home. Today, he’s already put in a number of hours. Straightening up the garage is his way of getting away from work for a while. I’m taking time off from my job as a real estate agent. The holidays aren’t that busy, and I wanted to spend time at home.
I turned off the whistling kettle at the same time that Stanley came into the kitchen. He had our little friend with him. Ben, our spunky Bichon Frisé dog, was quick to run over to me, demanding to be picked up. How could I resist giving in to his wants? He’s been our baby ever since Stanley gave him to me last Christmas. We recently celebrated Ben’s first birthday with a special doggy cake my Mom made.
Stanley eyed my technique for picking up Ben. According to articles we’d both read, I was supposed to lift with my legs and not strain my back. My husband’s clear concern was nice, but I felt my feathers getting slightly ruffled. For goodness sake, even though I'm pregnant, I can pick up my twelve pound dog. As soon as I noticed my irritation, I reminded myself of my earlier rule of behavior. I couldn’t let my feelings affect my attitude.
I must have performed the “lift” movement correctly because Stanley’s face instantly brightened with a big smile. He also made an announcement.
“Good news, we have room to get in and out of the cars again,” he said with a sigh. “However, I had to stack some of the boxes along the walls. I think they’re stable, but be careful anyway.”
I could hear that twinge of concern in his tone. “Stanley, please, you worry too much. Just because I’m pregnant, it doesn’t mean I have to watch everything I do.”
Stanley let out another sigh and went over to the kitchen table. He pulled out a chair and sat down. “Sorry, I don’t mean to be like this.”
I put Ben down and joined Stanley. “Honey, what’s going on? As the weeks go by, you seem to be getting more and more anxious. Can we talk about what’s troubling you?”
Stanley sat back and tried to smile again, but this time I could see it was forced. “It’s nothing. I’m fine. Really.”
Before we were expecting a baby, Stanley was one of those people who rarely got upset. Because of his patient attitude, I had room to explore my own feelings and come to grips with a lot of grievances I hadn’t resolved. However, the impending birth of our child seemed to be Stanley’s Achilles heel, and I wanted to know what he wasn’t telling me. I reached out and took his hand. “Stanley Bickerman, you are not fine. So, please, tell me what’s going on.”
Stanley let out the breath he seemed to be holding. “I recently remembered something from childhood, but I didn’t want to say anything.”
I squeezed his hand. “Go on,” I insisted.
“I’m an only child, but my parents wanted a big family. And even though I was still very young, I was excited about having brothers and sisters. It’s just that my mom had problems during her pregnancies. None of the babies she carried survived.”
I felt an immediate lump in my throat. “I’m so sorry. That must have been a very difficult time for all of you.”
Stanley shrugged. “It’s strange, but I didn’t think about any of it until I had a nightmare a few weeks ago.”
I got up and put Stanley’s hand on my belly. “Listen you, our baby is fine, and I’m fine. Except for a few raging hormones, I’m very lucky. According to my mom, we Bentley women have done just fine having babies.”
Stanley got up, stood behind me and hugged me. His hands carefully cradled my baby bump as he kissed my cheek. “Are you sure there’s not something you want to tell me?”
