“But I swear I’m not—” She already had her face next to mine, her arm outstretched to get a good selfie with Britney. I was not about to say, “I’m Jessica Simpson.” So I smiled and laughed about it for the rest of the night.
The next day I wore the vintage Mickey Mouse shirt they gave us at the first day’s tryouts in Dallas. I brought Ashlee along, just like I’d done back then, and she brought her two kids. I wore Minnie Mouse ears and kept them on the whole time. My excitement had a lot of people looking at me, and instead of shrinking, I smiled and said hi to everybody, hugging characters along the way. Eric had never seen this side of me, and I was the most overenthusiastic Disney mom there ever was.
“I think you’re having more fun than the kids,” Eric said. I had only gone in and out for work whenever I’d visited, so I hadn’t realized how much walking was involved. I’d worn heels, of course—sky-high platform heels—but by the end of the day, I had to give in and buy some twenty-dollar Star Wars flip-flops from a little kiosk. As I was inside trying to decide between Princess Leia or Yoda Havaianas, I heard a voice behind me.
“Oh, my God, I am so embarrassed.”
I turned. It was the woman from the pool. She was with a man I guessed was her husband because they matched. “I literally thought about this all night,” she said, coming closer. “You’re Jessica Simpson.”
I smiled, and she kept going. “I prayed to God—me and my husband—”
“We had to pray a lot,” he said.
“That we would see you so I could apologize,” she said.
“It’s really not a big deal.”
“Jessica Simpson,” she said, solemnly. “Can I have a picture with you?”
“Only if you smile,” I said.
She handed her husband the phone, and we took a picture. I hugged her goodbye and held up the Yoda flip-flops. “May the force be with you,” I said.
That night, I was in such a good mood that at ten o’clock I wasn’t having any of the nerves that nighttime usually brought me. Our children were all in bed asleep, worn out by the day. Ashlee and I were kids again, snuggled on a couch.
“Jessica, I don’t want to make fun of you or anything,” she said slowly. “But you still have your ears on.”
I reached up to feel the Minnie ears and smiled as I took them off. “I love you, Ash,” I said, snuggling closer to her. “I’m so glad you’re here with me.”
“Me, too,” she said.
I thought back on how all those years ago, we were each other’s protectors in the night. Me saving her from abuse, and after, her keeping the demons of the dark away for me. I am so grateful for the bond we have.
I STOOD BACKSTAGE AT THE PACIFIC AMPHITHEATRE, SMOOTHING MY dress and shuffling in my cowboy boots. It was August 9, and Willie Nelson had invited me to perform with him at his OC Fest show. I’d talked to him about what I’d been through, and I was so glad that my first time onstage in so many years would be with him.
Maxwell and Ace, six and five, had never even see me perform, and they were with Eric in the audience. I was so excited for them to see me. “Oh, that’s what Mommy does,” I imagined them realizing. They played my Christmas albums all summer, but this would be different. Willie and I were going to sing “You Fool,” a song I wrote with producer John Shanks after pouring my heart out to him about what my friendship with Willie has meant to me. It has a line I came up with in Maxwell’s room, putting her to bed. She had stars on her ceiling, and I always told her I’d lasso them down for her.
Backstage, I listened as Willie sang his songs for the sold-out crowd. I cried a little through “Always on My Mind” and dried my tears during the fun instrumental “Twelfth Street Rag.”
“We got a real special treat coming up for y’all,” he said. “Our good buddy Jessica Simpson and I are gonna sing a song together, and we’d like to get her out here today.”
I walked onstage, shy at first, but all the cheers and Willie’s smiling face made me realize I was home. As I started to sing our duet, “You Fool,” the cheers and whoops got louder, and I spotted Eric and the kids in the front. “I’ll be that one true friend,” Willie sang to me. “You know you’re stuck with me.”
I was so grateful to be in that moment. As the song ended, I said, “Thank you, Willie.”
“I love you, Jess.”
I floated offstage. He closed the concert with a fast medley of “Will the Circle Be Unbroken” and “I’ll Fly Away,” two songs that remain near and dear to my heart. They used to make me sad in uncertain times in my life, but now they made me happy, because I’d found my forever in my husband and children.
After the concert, Ace looked at me like he had no idea I was a superhero, and I picked him up to hug him. “I love you so much,” I said, and his eyes shined. Maxwell peppered me with questions. “That’s the man I listened to when I was a baby?” she asked.
“Yeah, honey.”
“And you said you’d lasso the stars, just like you told me.”
“Always,” I said, hugging her. “Always.”
Eric hugged me, placing his hand on my stomach. I put my hand over his and smiled at him. We had a secret, one that had come as a happy surprise to us. When we found out, what we’d been through made sense. We needed to clear the way for a new life.
We were about to be a family of five.
28
Birdie Mae
March 2019
I was so ready to have this baby girl.
I had spent the last several therapy sessions talking about how I needed her out of me. I honestly couldn’t think of anything else. She was laying on her side in me, and she was so big that they scheduled a C-section for March 19 when my actual due date was April 15. But first there had been the shock that at age thirty-eight they considered this a “geriatric pregnancy,” which is the oldest you will ever feel.
I was like, “What?”
“Really it’s just a box to check,” said a nurse. “It just means you’re high-risk.”
I chuckled. “You are full of good news,” I said. “What else you got? Thoughts on my hair?” We laughed, and she told me not to worry. But this was kind of the pregnancy from hell. When I wasn’t being hospitalized for bronchitis—I had it four times—I was breaking a toilet seat leaning back. At least I was really open about it. In January the Ten-Year Challenge was a big thing on Instagram, where you posted a 2009 photo next to a current one. I posted my old skinny legs next to my incredibly swollen ankle. It was so sweet, because I heard from many, many women who’ve been through the same thing.
The pregnancy was a crazy painful journey. And you were with me the whole way. I spent a lot of nights in our study working on this book, with just you and my little girl there to keep me company. So, you are cordially invited to her arrival.
The nurses and doctors at Cedars-Sinai told me they’d never seen a bigger group of people in the birthing suite. In about thirty minutes, they’d wheel me in for the C-section, and there were about twenty people packed into the room, friends and honorary family carrying on like it was a party. My friends were leaning back on my bed to take selfies with me, and my kids were peppering me with last-minute questions.