Around Our Heads

It was a cold February afternoon. My husband was lying sound asleep on the living room couch with our daughter. The dog was sleeping in an armchair. Cartoons were on the TV, but they’d all passed out midway through it.

“Chris!” I shrieked as I shuffled into the living room on my swollen feet. “Christopher! Chris!” The nap ended very abruptly. He jumped off the couch. Avery opened her sleepy blue eyes and peeked over the couch at me.

“What’s wrong?” he asked in confusion.

“I’m having contractions.”

“For how long?”

“All morning.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” he asked me.

“Because it wasn’t a huge deal at the time. Now it is.”

“Does it hurt?”

“Yes. Yes, yes, yes. I want to go to the hospital now.”

“Alright, let’s do this.” He jumped off the couch and nudged our dog through our new kitchen and out into the backyard. “Avery, get your shoes on!”

“Is the baby coming?” she asked.

“Yep.”

She rushed around to find her Little Mermaid boots that she got for Christmas. I stayed leaning against the hallway clutching at my stomach. She managed to pull her boots on even though they were on the wrong feet, and I attempted to help her get her jacket on. Chris pulled his on and went to get our emergency hospital bag. He was halfway to the door when he remembered me.

“Shit,” he said.

And he rushed over to help me get my jacket and boots on since I wasn’t having very much luck doing it myself. Then he lifted Avery into his arms, took my hand, and led me from our new house and over to where his car was parked in the driveway. I climbed into the front seat as I waited for him to get Avery in the back.

“You okay, Mommy?” she asked me as he buckled her.

“Yeah, baby. It just hurts,” I told her.

“It hurts to have babies?”

“Yeah, it hurts a lot. Remember what it said in the big sister book we got you?”

“Oh yeah. I remember. Did it hurt when I was born too?”

“Yep, it hurt a lot.”

“Did you cry?”

“I cried a lot.”

“She cried a whole river,” Chris told her as he got out. Then, he shut the door and climbed in beside us.

“Did you cry too, Daddy?” she asked him.

“It doesn’t hurt the daddy.”

“Don’t let him fool you,” I said. “He cried when he held you for the first time.”

“I did not.”

“You did so. Your eyes got all teary. I was there. I remember.”

“Your memory is clouded.”

“I was there!”

“Fine, fine.”

“Daddy cried ’cause he loooooovded me,” she said.

“That’s exactly why he cried,” I assured her.

We dropped Avery off with Chris’s mom and then went to the hospital together. I didn’t want anyone in the room with me except for him. We had the baby’s room all ready to go in our new house and everything. We just didn’t have a name picked out for him yet. I figured we would come up with a name when we actually saw him. Like we did for Avery.

We got to the hospital, and Chris had to slowly help me up to the right floor. They decided I was far enough along to keep me, so I got to spend a few hours in bed whimpering and crying. Then my family came by to see us, but Chris had to warn them I hadn’t had any pain relief, so I was missing a verbal filter. When Chris’s mom got there with Avery, she demanded to see me, but Chris told her she wouldn’t like it because I was yelling and crying a lot. Then she got mad, but I didn’t want her to hear me scream curse words every time I had a contraction.

But in the wee hours of the next morning, I finally decided I wanted that epidural. I didn’t care if I had to get a giant needle shoved into my spine. I just wanted it. And I wanted it immediately.

Chris was an excellent birthing partner. He encouraged me and acted like my cheerleader, just like he’d done with Avery. He held my hand and kissed me between contractions. He was the best, and I was so thankful that this entire experience had been much more pleasant. Not that we didn’t adore Avery. Just that I didn’t get to experience it the way I wanted to.

Then they laid our little boy across my stomach, and he opened his little eyes. He squeaked, and then he started wailing. But he was perfect.

“Oh my gosh,” I said when I finally got to see him.

“He’s amazing, Marley,” Chris whispered. They dried him off and wrapped him up in a little blanket. Then they handed him over to me, and he calmed down from his screaming fit.

“Oh my gosh,” I repeated. He was fatter than Avery had been. He had a little squat face and dark hair. Chris kissed my temple as we looked him over.

“We have a son,” he said.

“He’s beautiful,” I replied.

“He’s perfect.”

“He looks like you.”

“Yeah, I guess he kind of does.” We smiled down at him for a moment before he spoke again. “Have you decided what we’re going to call him yet?” I smiled and reached out to stroke his little fat cheeks.

“Yeah, Topher,” I said. Chris laughed softly.

“You want to name him after me?” he asked. I nodded.

“He looks like a junior to me. But not a CJ. Maybe Topher, so we don’t get confused.”

“I guess he does kind of look like a junior. Or a Topher. But Topher sounds like gopher. So maybe we should go with CJ.” I finally looked up at him.

“Thank you,” I said.

“For what?” he asked.

“Everything.”

“Ditto.”

He leaned over to kiss my lips, and the baby squeaked. I pulled away and looked back down at him, and that was when I knew for sure that my life had gone perfectly. I knew it wasn’t over, but there was a time when I thought nothing would ever go right. But now, I had a loving husband, a sweet daughter, and a beautiful son. I had a mother and a father and brothers and sisters. I even had cousins and aunts and uncles. I had everything I’d ever wanted. I had a family that loved me.

“You know what?” Chris said, leaning over and lifting little Topher or CJ’s eyelid so he could examine his eyes. They weren’t the same pale blue that Avery’s had been, which had eventually turned the same baby blue color as Chris’s. Even though he was just born, they were already green.

“What?” I asked him.

“I think he has your eyes.”