TRACK 6: Dresses and Dry Toast
As we approached the big day, Mia became more and more nervous. She had decided we should wait until our wedding to make the pregnancy announcement so she could tell her mom and step-dad in person. Being one of thirteen kids and the youngest after a brother and eleven sisters, baby news was nothing new in my family, but I decided to wait so everyone would hear it at the same time. Except, of course, Tyler, Jenny, and Martha.
Jenny warned Mia to wait until the three-month mark when it was more of a sure thing. Understandably, Jenny was a bit of cynic when it came to these things. Mia said Jenny was practical; I called it negative. Finally, I told Mia she had to make the announcement at the wedding. There was no way anyone would buy any excuse that Mia wasn’t drinking at her own wedding other than being pregnant. I argued that everyone would know anyway, so we might as well announce it.
The Thursday before our wedding, I woke up early. It was dawn and the light coming through the window was a dull blue. It was peaceful, like a fading memory. That is until I realized the bed was empty next to me. I flew to my feet, threw on a pair of boxers, and darted out into the hallway.
I heard a small, sickly voice coming from the bathroom behind me. “I’m here.” I turned and saw Mia hanging over the toilet. She was pale and her eyes were bloodshot.
“Oh baby, what happened?” I started panicking. “What is it?”
She looked up at me with a painful smile. “I feel like… I feel like, remember that time when you bet Tyler you could drink a fifth of vodka and still play ‘Voodoo Child’ without missing a note?”
“Yeah, I did, twice, with my eyes closed, and I sang it too. I won a hundred bucks. I felt great.”
“No.” She paused to dry heave. “Remember how you felt the next morning? Remember, you thought you were dying? You made me write a letter to your family.”
“Oh yeah, I felt like shit.”
“That’s how I feel.”
“Really? That bad, huh? I’m not gonna sugarcoat it, baby, you look like death warmed over.”
“Thanks.”
“You’re still beautiful. It’s just, there’s this green tint to your skin.” When she dry heaved again, I asked, “Should I call a doctor? You’re gonna be one very unhappy bride on Saturday if you’re still feeling this.”
“I know. Just call Martha. I’m pretty sure I’m okay. I think I’m experiencing that phenomenon known as morning sickness.”
I kissed her on top of the head. “I’ll call her right now.” I walked into the bedroom, picked up our landline, and dialed Martha.
She didn’t even say hello. “Is she having morning sickness?” The sixth sense thing was getting creepy.
“Yeah, she’s in the bathroom, throwing up. She doesn’t look so good.” I went back to the doorway of the bathroom and found Mia hunched on the floor.
“You need to get some food in her.”
I held the phone away from my ear and said, “You want me to make you some eggs, baby?”
“No!” Mia and Martha both shouted.
“What should I make her?”
“Just get her some crackers or dry toast. She may need to sleep with crackers and water on the nightstand. She should never let her stomach go empty. Nothing will sound good to her if she lets it get to this point. Make her eat some crackers and drink some club soda if you have it. I’ll be over in a bit.”
“Thanks, Martha.”
“Of course, dear.”
Mia was still on the bathroom floor moaning when Martha arrived. She walked in with a satchel full of natural remedies. She had ginger and peppermint tea and some aromatherapy candles and creams. After laying each item on the kitchen bar, she finally addressed me.
“Will, I think it’s important that you’re involved in every phase of the pregnancy with Mia. Here are some items that should help. I have to get to Kell’s.”
Mia moaned loudly from down the hall before yelling, “No, Martha, you have to stay.”
“Yeah, I think you should stay. I don’t know what to do for her.”
“That is your baby she’s carrying inside her. That is your baby making her sick.” She pointed to the items on the counter again and said, “Figure this stuff out.”
I stood there stunned as I watched Martha walk hurriedly to the door and leave. I moved with trepidation down the hall. Mia was now lying on a stack of towels, curled up in the fetal position.
“Baby, let me get you into bed.”
“Uh uh. I think I’m gonna be sick again.”
“I’ll bring you a bowl. You can’t be comfortable like this.” I helped her to her feet and into our room, and then I pulled the covers back for her to slide into bed. “I’ll bring you some toast and tea.”
When I came back, she was sleeping soundly. Poor girl had probably been up since four a.m. I left the tray of toast and tea on the bedside table and proceeded to light a few candles. After calling the studio and letting them know I would be in late, I plugged my headphones into my iPod and put on the album Veneer by José González. I rested the headphones on Mia’s belly and proceeded to have the first music lesson and heart-to-heart with my unborn child.
“Listen, kid, you can’t be making your mom sick all the time. Here’s some soothing music to calm you both.” When I kissed her belly, she stirred a bit and then opened her eyes.
“Toast,” she mumbled.
“Sit up, Mia.”
She sat up, grabbed the piece of toast from my hand, and shoved it into her mouth ravenously.
“Slow down, you’re gonna make yourself sick again.”
“I’m starving,” she grumbled through a mouthful of bread. She took three tiny sips of ginger tea, closed her eyes, and fell asleep again.
I spent the rest of the morning lying next to her in bed. I read the first several chapters of What to Expect When You’re Expecting and The Birth That’s Right for You.
Later that day when she finally woke, her eyes shot open. She looked at me curiously as I stood over her with my arms crossed.
“Have you been taking your folic acid?” I asked.
“Yes,” she said, looking confused.
“And you know that when you have a headache, you cannot take ibuprofen?”
“Okay.”
“And no hot baths, no sushi, no unpasteurized cheese, and absolutely no alcohol!”
“I heard from someone that pregnant women can have a small glass of wine once in a while.”
“Who is this someone? That’s hogwash!” I blurted out.
Through disbelief and laughter Mia said, “What?”
“That is simply not true. There is no magic number for what is safe—it’s best to avoid alcohol all together.”
“What have you been up to, Will?” She eyed me speculatively.
“I’ve just been reading, that’s all.”
She got up slowly from the bed, still staring into my eyes. “You have that neurotic look about you right now.”
“I think we should start going for thirty-minute walks twice a day.”
“Are you worried about me getting fat?”
“God, no.” I shook my head. “Natural birth is like a sporting event, Mia. Think of me as your trainer.”
“Did you read that whole book?” She pointed to the nightstand.
“I read enough for now. I know exactly what I need to do. In addition to the breast tenderness and nausea, have you been experiencing frequent urination and sensitivity to smells?”
“Um…yes?”
“I need a definitive answer.” I was impressed by my ability to not crack a smile.
Mia continued eyeing me. I think she was waiting for me to break into laughter, but I didn’t. “Yes. The answer is yes, Dr. Neurotic, why do you ask?”
I tilted my head to the side and squinted, examining her from head to toe. “I believe you are most definitely pregnant. Our next step is to call your OB/GYN and schedule an appointment to confirm it with a blood test and transvaginal ultrasound.”
That’s when Mia lost it. She plopped back down on the bed, holding her stomach and laughing hysterically.
“Oh my God, Will, you are killing me with this act.” She could barely speak. “How do you know all that stuff?”
“This is no act. I’m a quick study. Martha inspired me to get involved, and that’s what I’m doing.” I smiled finally.
“I don’t want you going overboard,” she said as she walked to the bathroom to brush her teeth for the tenth time that day.
I always felt like Mia grounded me. If I spent too much time alone with my thoughts, I would let them get the best of me.
“You look like you’re feeling better.”
She looked into the mirror with a mouthful of toothpaste and nodded. She rinsed her mouth and turned to face me. “What time is it?”
“One o’clock.”
Wrapping her arms around my waist, she nuzzled her face into my bare chest. Her sneaky fingers found their way to my belt buckle. She pulled it open and then ran her hand down the front of my jeans and took a hold of me.
I took a step back and eyed her with my arms crossed in front of me. “What are you doing?”
“What does it look like?”
“We can’t do it. You’re in a delicate state.”
“Your body disagrees with you.” She smirked and squeezed me tighter. “Plus, you cannot treat me like I’m breakable for nine months. I’ll go crazy.”
I pulled her hand away. “The answer is no, for now.”
“You won’t last long,” she said, challenging me.
“Watch me,” I said, but I knew she was right.
I turned, went into our closet, and grabbed my white T-shirt that said “Diva” on the front of it in black block letters. I pulled it over my head as I spoke to Mia. “I’m going down to the studio for a bit. Everyone has left for the day, so I wanted to work on a few things.”
“I’m gonna see if I can get into the doctor this afternoon since our parents will be here tomorrow. Do you want to come to the appointment if I can get in today?”
“Absolutely.” I turned and hugged her and then pulled back and looked her in the eye. “I’m really excited and happy, and I can’t wait to marry you and tell everyone about the baby.”
“Me too.”
I headed down to the empty studio and worked a little bit on Chad’s songs at the sound board, and then I went into the sound room with an old Fender Stratocaster that Martha’s husband had loaned me. It had this chime-y but rich sound to it when I played the neck. I plugged in, closed my eyes, and began to play the beginning of Led Zeppelin’s “Ramble On.” I tried to layer in both guitar parts as best I could by adding extra reverb, but the baseline was definitely missing. I kept my eyes closed and tried to imagine the baseline and pattering percussion in the beginning of the song, and then I actually heard it. I opened my eyes and saw Mia standing in the sound room, just feet away from me, tapping the beat on the back of a leather office chair. She was bobbing her head and smiling, encouraging me to continue. I wasn’t singing the lyrics, but as soon as the song started to build, Mia began twirling around. She was wearing a white sundress with long, billowing sleeves and knee-high brown boots. My little angel would have easily fit in dancing on the stage with the real band back in the seventies.
Mia could hear the music the same way I could. She had an imagination for it, and even though I was only playing the one-dimensional guitar part, I knew she could hear the full richness of the song. I watched her dance around, a picture of beauty, my soon-to-be wife, the mother of my unborn children. She closed her eyes as I built higher and higher and as soon as I hit the chorus, we both sang it at the top of our lungs.
I loved those impromptu concerts with her. We played around like that in the studio all the time, but since finding out Mia was pregnant, it’s like the light that followed her around got brighter. After the morning sickness passed, she smelled better than ever before. She looked better, she glowed, her hair looked shinier, and her cheeks had a natural blush to them. It made me want to keep her pregnant for the rest of our lives. I was surprised at my own old-fashioned, primal thoughts.
When we finally stopped jamming, Mia went to grab her purse. “So, the appointment is in half an hour. Are you going with me?”
“Yep, let’s go.” I grabbed her hand and we headed out.
We rode the subway into the village where the OB/GYN’s office was. After Mia filled out a thousand forms, the nurse took her temperature, blood pressure, and then weighed her before leading us to an exam room where she asked Mia to undress.
I stood up when a young, Asian, female doctor entered the room. “Dr. Chow,” I said, reaching my hand out to greet her.
“It’s Dr. Cho. Three. Simple. Letters,” she said to me without cracking a smile.
“Oh, sorry, Dr. Cho. Nice to meet you.”
She shook my hand, then Mia’s, and then went to the sink to wash her hands.
“So, you had a positive pregnancy test at home and you’re six weeks past the first day of your last menstrual cycle?” she said to Mia, who simply nodded. “Okay, then we can do an ultrasound today to confirm and see if we can find the heartbeat.”
I could tell Dr. Cho was a straight shooter. She didn’t mess around and probably didn’t have the best bedside manner, either. She pulled the long stick from the ultrasound machine to perform the test transvaginally. Like I said, I’m a quick study. I didn’t even flinch when Dr. Cho held the probe up with triumph. Mia’s legs were already propped and spread in the stirrups. I stood by her head and stroked her hair while our eyes stayed glued to the monitor.
Suddenly on the screen appeared an oval shape floating in a large black circle. You could immediately see the steady flicker of a heartbeat.
There are moments in life that you know you’ll never forget, even while it’s happening, and that was one of them. “She’s going to be a drummer!” I announced before the doctor could even speak.
Mia elbowed me. “Shhh.”
That’s when we heard it. It sounded like a pounding and sucking at the same time, but it was the most beautiful sound I had ever heard. It was the sound of my kid’s heartbeat.
“See, baby, she’s gonna be a drummer.”
“What if it’s a boy?” she said.
The doctor interrupted us. “We won’t be able to tell the sex for some time.”
“I can’t imagine not having a beautiful little girl that looks just like you.”
Pointing at the monitor, Mia smiled. “That’s our baby.”
“I know.” I kissed her forehead and then swallowed back the huge lump growing in my throat.
The doctor visit was short. She just reminded Mia to take her prenatal vitamins and then gave us a bunch of packets of information.
Back at home, lying in bed, Mia and I swept through the endless pamphlets and information booklets, periodically asking each other questions.
“Oh, look, we can tour the hospital. You’re not thinking you’re gonna have the baby at home, are you?”
“Martha suggested it, but I’m not crazy.”
“Good. That would make me a nervous wreck.”
“If it’s a girl, I want to name her Grace.”
“Okay, if it’s a boy, I think we should name him Hamsel,” I said, straight-faced.
“What?” Her tone was not nice.
“Yeah, I’ve always loved the name Hamsel, or we can name him Wilbur Jr. and just call him Junior for short.” I finally had mercy when Mia’s eyes were open as wide as they would go. “I’m kidding. What names do you like?”
“For a boy, hmm. I don’t know; we’ll have to think on it. I really like Birch or Branch, you know something earthy…maybe Webb.” I laughed but she deadpanned, “What? I mean if you don’t like those, I also really like Stream or Haze.”
Oh my God, she’s serious.
She tilted her head to the side, smiled, and cackled like a witch. “Ha, ha, Will. Two can play this game.”
“Thank God, I thought you were serious. Shit.”
She socked me in the chest. “See, it’s not fun being messed with it, is it?”
“You can mess with me anytime.” I grabbed myself.
“Will!” She screamed and then jumped out of bed. As she exited the room, I heard her quietly mumble, “You’re a pig.”