“I never knew that.”
She smiles at me.
“Why do you think we get along so well now?”
“Honestly? I thought you got along because you were divorced.”
She laughs and shakes her head.
“No, we get along because we got past the hurt and learned to respect one another. Jack knows I’ll always have his back just like I know he’ll always have mine. It’s a pretty sweet deal, and it just got sweeter because we get to be grandparents together.”
“Is it really that different from being a parent?”
“You bet your ass it is. Grandkids you get to give back,” she teases. “Speaking of your father, I thought he was meeting us here.”
“He must be running late,” I respond with a shrug. If I’m sure of anything, it’s that my father won’t miss this appointment. I think he’s got money on the gender of my baby.
A short while later the nurse calls my name and my mother accompanies me into the examining room. Laying on the table, I lift my shirt under my boobs and lower the waistband of my pants in preparation for the sonogram. Butterflies take flight in my belly only it’s not really butterflies. It’s my little miracle kicking away, making her presence known. As we wait for Dr. Heltzer, I place my mom’s hand on my stomach, hoping she’ll cop a feel of her grandchild kicking away. The door bursts open and my father enters the room.
“For crying out loud,” my mother hisses, drawing in a deep breath. “You scared the shit out of me, Jack.”
Ignoring her, he looks at me and closes the door.
“Did I miss it?”
I shake my head.
“She’s kicking, though,” I tell him, beckoning him to come closer. With my free hand, I take his and place it next to my mothers. A minute later the baby starts kicking me again and my mother’s head snaps back. With wide eyes, she stares at my father in disbelief.
“Did you feel that?”
He shakes his head, and she quickly takes his hand, moving it across my belly. The baby kicks again and this time I know my father feels it because his eyes well with tears as he looks at my mother.
“I felt it,” he rasps.
“That’s our grandbaby, Jack,” my mother cries.
The Jack and Connie era might be over but after suffering through the greatest tragedy a parent can ever experience, it’s beautiful to see them share such a tender moment. They might not have gotten it right as husband and wife but they’re going to rock the shit out being grandparents.
A knock sounds on the door and this time when it opens, the doctor enters.
“We’ve got a full house today,” he comments, eyeing my parents.
“How’s it hangin’ doc,” my father greets, offering him his hand. “I’m Lacey’s father.”
“And I’m her mother,” my mother asserts.
My doctor shakes their hands and I suddenly feel like I’m starring in an episode of Teen Mom. Those girls aren’t exactly teenagers so it’s fucking possible.
“Are we ready to find out if we’re having a boy or a girl?” Dr. Heltzer questions as he turns on the sonogram machine.
“I’m ready,” I answer, flinching as he squirts the cold gel onto my belly.
My mind wanders to the pink teddy bear and the note Blackie attached to it.
Team Girl.
Before the doctor can touch the probe to my stomach, my father’s phone rings.
“Wait!” he shouts, digging into his pocket for the ringing device. He pulls it out, and a smile spreads across his face as he accepts the call, but he doesn’t lift it to his ear. Instead, he puts it on speaker and hands it to me.
Suspiciously, I take the phone from him and glance at the screen. Seeing it’s a restricted number and recalling Blackie called from a restricted number, has my heart racing.
“Hello?”
“I think it’s about time we find out we’re having a girl for sure, don’t you?” Blackie replies.
“Oh my God!” my mother shrieks. “He called for the sex!”
“Jesus Christ, Connie,” my father hisses. “Get a hold of yourself.”
I tune the two of them out and close my eyes. Tears spill from my lashes and I silently thank God for making this possible. For giving the man I love one more chance at life and for allowing him to find the courage to take it.
“I love you,” I blurt into the phone.
I don’t even care that I have an audience or that the doctor probably thinks I’m a basket case.
This beautiful moment is mine.
All mine.
“I love you too, baby,” Blackie says hoarsely. “So damn much.”
I open my eyes and look at Dr. Heltzer.
“We’re ready,” I tell him, and he smiles at me. The probe touches my stomach and the room fills with the sound of our baby’s heartbeat. “Do you hear that, Blackie?”
Dr. Heltzer turns up the volume and the melody of healthy heart echoes off the walls.
Swoosh! Swoosh! Swoosh!
“I hear it,” he croaks.
“That’s her heart,” I whisper into the phone.
“A hundred and seventeen beats per minute,” Dr. Heltzer notes.
“Is that good?” my father asks.
“Perfect,” the doctor answers.
“Oh my God! I see a penis! Is that a penis?” My mother shrieks, reaching for the pair of glasses sitting on top of her head.
“That’s a leg,” Dr. Heltzer clarifies and Blackie laughs through the phone. “C’mon baby, let’s get a good view for mom and dad…ahh…there we go,” the doctor boasts, quickly freezing the frame on the screen.
“What are we looking at, doc?” my father hisses, squinting at the screen. “Connie, give me your glasses.”
Dr. Heltzer turns to me and smiles.
“Congratulations, you’re having a girl.”
“Really?” I sob.
He nods.
“Blackie, did you hear that?”
“Yeah, baby, I heard.” There is no mistaking the emotion in his tone of voice. He pushes through it, though, and continues, “I told you we were having a daughter.”
“Thank fuck,” my father mutters. “I was starting to worry it was a boy, and we were giving it a complex.”
“Jack! Language! We’re going to have to start a swear jar for when this baby is born,” my mother says.
“Fuck a swear jar,” my father admonishes. “We’ll all be piss poor.”
“Guys,” I call. “Can we not do this right now?”
“Fine but blame your father when your daughter’s first word is fuck,” my mother says.
“Our daughter’s first word is going to be Daddy,” Blackie calls.
“You say that now,” my mother argues. “But Lacey’s first word was shit.”
“I thought my first word was Mama.”
“Oh, honey, that’s just what we wrote in your baby book. Mama looks a lot better on paper than shit.”
“Actually, it was fucking shit,” my father corrects. “I remember.”
“You would.”
“Alright folks, why don’t we give Lacey a minute to wrap up her call and get dressed.”