Anything Like Me

I can’t believe I’m going to be a father. It’s always been something I wanted, but I never thought it would come this soon. Gabrielle told me nearly seven months ago. A mixture of emotions coursed through my mind when the words “I’m pregnant” left her lips. Shock, fear, and confusion, to name a few, but when the love of your life tells you one of the most important things you’ll ever hear with tears in her eyes, something else overtakes you. The need to protect her and make sure she knows she’s loved and wanted replaces those emotions.

I’ve had seven months to prepare to be a father and I still don’t know what the hell I’m doing. What I do know is that I want to provide my son with the best life possible and make him proud to say I’m his dad.

“Carey?” I hear Gabrielle call my name throughout our Montreal apartment.

“I’m in here,” I yell, from inside the nursery we have set up in what was the office.

She walks, or should I say waddles, inside the room and stops in her tracks when she sees what I’m sitting in.

“What is that?” ask asks. Her French accent is still one of the sexiest things about her in my opinion.

I stand up and usher her to sit down. “I know you’ve been eyeing this rocking chair for a while and you were disappointed when you didn’t get one at your shower. Well, I sort of asked everyone not to get it for you because I wanted to surprise you,” I say with a smile.

Gabrielle runs her hands along the cherry wood of the chair, which matches the rest of the furniture we’ve bought for the nursery. Her green eyes sparkle as she smiles at me. “It’s beautiful, mon amour. I love it.”

“You know I love it when you speak French,” I tell her, kissing her wrist. “But I still think the only reason you want our son to be bilingual is so you two can talk behind my back someday,” I say with a grin.

Gabrielle lets out a small snort. “Think what you want. Our son and I will have the best conversations in French. You will just have to get yourself some Rosetta Stone and learn the language yourself.”

Little does she know, that’s exactly what I’ve been working on for that past few months just for this specific moment.

~*~*~

Carey is still knelt down on the floor beside where I’m sitting in the rocker. I find it a little odd, but I don’t say anything. He rubs his neck, a nervous habit, and straightens up a little.

“Gabrielle, I have something important I need to ask you,” he tells me.

“OK,” I say a little hesitantly.

He drops so he’s knelt on one knee and I’m beginning to realize what’s happening.

His voice is a little shaky as he begins. “Gabrielle Bouchard, I've known this long before we found out about this,” he says in perfect French while gesturing to my belly. “I love you more than anything and I can't imagine a future without you in it. I know we've gone about things a little differently than most, but I wouldn't change a thing. Nothing would make me happier than if you agreed to become my wife. Will you marry me?”

My eyes well with tears as I watch him take a ring out of his jeans pocket and present it to me. It’s a beautiful round cut solitaire. I can barely form words, so I shake my head up and down and squeak out a blubbery, “Yes!” Carey slides the ring on my left hand and I don’t even take time to examine it. Instead, I throw my arms around his neck and give him a sloppy tear filled kiss.

Once I’ve composed myself enough, Carey pulls back. “Do you like it?” he asks, genuinely concerned. He could have put a Ring Pop on my finger and I still would’ve said yes. But the diamond ring currently adorning my finger is absolutely perfect.

“I love it. It’s perfect,” I assure him, giving him another kiss. “That was the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for me.”

“I worked really hard on that speech,” he says with a sheepish grin that gives me a glimpse of the dimples I love so much.

“I can tell you did and if I wasn’t the size of a whale, I would definitely reward you,” I tell him with a wink. I suddenly grab my stomach because our son has decided he’s playing a soccer match in my stomach.

Carey has a concerned look in his eyes. “What’s the matter?” he asks.

“Nothing. I think your son likes that mommy and daddy are going to get married,” I say with a smile as I take his hand and place it on my oversized belly.

A grin breaks across Carey’s face as he feels the strong kick of our baby against his hand. “He’s got strong legs. I bet he’ll be a goalie like me.”

I roll my eyes teasingly. “Already planning our son’s future in the NHL and he’s not even here yet,” I chide.

“He’s going to be just like daddy,” Carey says in a matter-of-fact tone.

“It’s going to be a long eighteen years,” I tease.

~*~*~

You’re given a solid nine months to prepare to become a parent, but I don’t think any amount of pre-natal classes, baby books, or doctor appointments can truly prepare you for what’s to come. And now here I am, sitting in the hospital room with Gabrielle’s hand gripping mine tightly as another contraction overtakes her. She’s doing so much better now that she’s been given an epidural, but the pressure of the contractions is still intense.

The first moment we found out Gabrielle is having a boy; I began thinking about what my son will look like. Will he have caramel eyes like me or green eyes like Gabrielle? Will his hair be dark like mine or blonde like Gabrielle’s? Will he inherit my dimples or the way Gabrielle crinkles her nose when she laughs?

Then I began to think about what kind of person he’ll be. Will he be athletic and play hockey like me? Or will he share Gabrielle’s passion for art and music? Will he be high strung like me and lose his temper easily? Or will he be laid back and not lose his temper until he’s pushed over the edge like Gabrielle? I don’t even have to ask myself if he’ll be stubborn because it’s inevitable with having Gabrielle and I as parents.

Most importantly, will he cause me fits like I did my parents growing up? If the universe is just and the threats my mom always said to me come true, he probably will. I was an ornery child. I was constantly getting in trouble at home and school and my teenage years are something I like to block from my memory. Playing hockey came as a blessing for both me and my parents. It helped keep me out of trouble for the most part.

“Lord help us is he’s anything like me,” I think to myself. At least he’s getting half of his genes from Gabrielle, so there is some hope he’ll be a good, angelic child. I laugh as I think of that, because I know no matter what, I’m going to lose my temper and some sleep over the next eighteen years, but something tells me it’ll all be worth it.

I glance at Gabrielle and her brow is sweating, so I give her a couple of pieces of ice. “How are you feeling?” I ask her.

“I feel like I want to push,” she grunts. “Can you get the doctor and see if it’s time?”

I nod my head. “I’ll be right back.”

I rush out to the hallway. When I find Gabrielle’s doctor, I tell him she’s feeling the urge to push. Once we’re back in her room, the doctor checks her and says she’s fully dilated and it’s time to start pushing. Everything’s happening so quickly, I barely have time to think. The doctor is positioned between Gabrielle’s legs and he instructs me to stand next to her. She grabs my hands for dear life. Several nurses are on hand saying encouraging words to Gabrielle as she begins to push.

I watch Gabrielle push several times and I can tell she’s starting to get tired. “Come on, baby. Just a few more pushes and our baby will be here,” I say encouragingly.

“Se taire!” she screams at me. And I need no translation to know she’s telling me to shut up.

I do as she asks and keep my mouth shut while I continue letting her squeeze the crap out of my hand.

“Just a three more pushes, Gabrielle. You can do it,” the doctor says. “You might want to look here,” he gestures. “You can see the baby’s head.”

I look down between Gabrielle’s legs and sure enough, I see the top of a head with dark hair peeking out. Three pushes later, the wail of our son’s first cry fills the room and he doctor announces “It’s a boy!”

I stare at him in awe as the doctor sets him on Gabrielle’s belly and begins to clean him off. Gabrielle is exhausted but smiling as she strokes our son’s head. “He’s beautiful,” she whispers.

I lean down and give Gabrielle a swift kiss on the lips before kissing our baby’s forehead. “I love you both so much,” I say.

“Would you like to cut the cord, daddy?” one of the nurses asks me.

I nod, praying I won’t get queasy. Blood is not my thing, but I want to do this. I walk over to where the nurse is holding some kind of scissors and take them in my hand. It’s over before I really know what’s going on and I’ve cut my son’s chord without passing out.

The nurse takes the baby from Gabrielle’s stomach to finish cleaning him up and I follow so I can take pictures. Once he’s bundled up in a hospital blanket and hat, the nurse hands him to me. This is the first time I’ve held my son and it’s something I will never forget. He’s so tiny and I realize it’s also the first time I’ve gotten a good look at him. He has Gabrielle’s nose, I decide, and my lips.

“Carey?” I hear Gabrielle say. “Can I hold my baby?”

I walk over to the bed and gently lay him in Gabrielle’s arms so she can experience what I just did for the first time too. I snap a couple of pictures of Gabrielle holding our baby before I take a seat next to the bed.

“We should probably decide on a name for this little guy now that he’s here,” she says, looking up at me. “I still like Mathieu.”

“I think he looks like an Ayden,” I say, leaning over so I can look at his face.

“What about Ayden Mathieu Price?” Gabrielle suggests.

A smile breaks across my face. “I think it’s perfect.”

Gabrielle smiles back at me. “I think so too,” she says, before turning her attention back to Ayden. “Do you like your name, Ayden?” she coos.

Ayden yawns in response and Gabrielle and I both chuckle.

“Carey!” she says, startling me.

“What?” I ask concerned.

“I think Ayden might have your dimples. I think I saw one when he yawned,” she says with a grin.

“Lucky kid,” I joke. “He has your nose though.”

Gabrielle looks at Ayden’s face a little closer. “I think you might be right, but he has your lips and dimples. I think he has blues eyes, but all babies are born with blue eyes. I think he looks like his daddy.”

“I guess that’s ok, but I hope he has your temperament.”

“Me too,” she teases. “He’s going to be a mommy’s boy,” Gabrielle says, in a matter-of-fact tone.

“Hey now, he’s half mine,” I say in a sternest voice I can muster.

Gabrielle looks at me and smiles. “Do you want to hold him, daddy?”

“Absolutely. Give him to me, mommy,” I say as I stand up to take Ayden from Gabrielle.

I cradle him in my arms and look at his sweet little face. He’s so innocent and I have no doubt that I’m completely in love with the kid already. I reach my hand down to touch his tiny hand and Ayden grabs onto my left pointer finger with a strong and sturdy grip and I know right away that he’s going to be just as much of a daddy’s boy as he is a mommy’s boy. I lean down and kiss his soft cheek just as Gabrielle takes a picture. I look up at her and smile.

“I love you, Gabrielle. Thank you for giving me the best gift I could ever ask for,” I tell her.

Her eyes fill with tears. “Je t’aime aussi, Carey,” she replies.

I lean down and give Ayden another kiss. “I love you too, Ayden,” I whisper.

I relish in the moment and try to soak in as much of it as I can. I’m going to marry the most amazing woman I’ve ever known, who has just given me the greatest gift of my life, and I’m holding my healthy newborn son in my arms. I’m pretty sure not much else will ever be as perfect as this moment.