I’m fighting every urge I have to go baby shopping. Instead, I head home after stopping at the grocery store. Liam and I want to buy things for the baby together. He wants to be there when we pick out a crib, the bedding and, of course, he says that the baby needs rock star approved clothing. I think if he had his way, the baby would have his own motorcycle – and probably tattoos – right from birth.
It’s hard to explain how I feel about adopting. I’m happy, elated and over the moon that in a few short weeks I’ll be holding a baby boy in my arms who I get to call mine, but I’m missing the pregnancy part. I miss rubbing my hand over my stomach and feeling the fluttering and the kicking. I want Liam to touch my stomach and feel his child respond to him. Or have Noah read a story so the baby knows his voice when he gets here. We’re missing these early bonding moments, but I still wouldn’t trade what we have going on right now. The anxiety of being a new mother is there, even if I’ve done this before.
When I pull in I see a football flying through the air accompanied by the sound of voices. Liam is working with Noah and is teaching him everything he knows. As of late, there have been comparisons between the two of them. A reporter stopped us at the mall, asking us for an interview. He’s twelve, almost thirteen, and not even in high school yet and they’re matching him stat for stat with this dad. I could see it in Noah’s eyes, the resentment is building. He was on his way to being a football star long before Liam showed up and I think it upsets Noah that people don’t remember that. He’s not Liam, and he’s not trying to be.
I set the groceries on the counter and head out back to see my boys. I’m sorry... men. Noah has informed me that he’ll no longer be my little boy when he becomes a teenager so I need to make sure he’s referred to properly. My response was to pull him into a hug. That lasted for about two seconds before he squirmed his way out of my arms. He’s growing fast, too fast for my liking, but it was bound to happen.
“Looking good,” I say just as Noah releases a pass back to Liam. He catches it with such ease, much like he did when he and Mason would throw the ball around in Mason’s backyard. When I wanted to make-out and do stupid spontaneous teenage things, Liam wanted to work on his arm. It wasn’t until senior year that he relaxed and now I know why. He was planning to quit football, even if he didn’t know it at the time.
He changed our senior year. I can see that now. Back then I was blinded by love, college and freedom. I thought that Liam, and I were invincible and nothing could bring us down or break us. Turns out, I was the one to break us because I couldn’t see past the quarterback I fell in love with. I couldn’t see the hurt and pain he was living with day in and day out. I only provided more stress by trying to do everything I could to keep my dreams alive. I was all set to just be his wife, but he gave me the opportunity to be someone better, someone extraordinary. He gave me the opportunity to grow up and find the me I needed to be without him guiding our path. It just sucks how it all happened.
“How was school, Noah?”
“Fine.”
“Did you do your homework?”
“Yep.”
He continues to throw the football back and forth with Liam, never taking his gaze off his dad. This is how our conversations have gone lately - I ask a question and get a one word answer in return. Sometimes I understand when he replies with “not fair” after some sort of punishment has been handed down. Lately, it’s been because he hasn’t turned in his homework. He earns great grades and does his homework, but forgets to hand it in. The only way Liam and I thought we could get the point across was to remove all his electronic devices from his room. It hasn’t really helped, but his forgetfulness is getting better. Funny how he never forgets anything when it comes to sports.
“Did you stop at the store?”
“I did,” I answer Liam. “I picked up a variety – chicken, steak and hot dogs.”
Liam tosses the ball back to Noah and tells him he has to start cooking dinner. He comes over to me, rests his hands on the chair that I’m sitting in and kisses me. Noah makes gagging sounds in the background causing both of us to smile. When he starts to pull away, I clutch his t-shirt preventing him from leaving me. We’re not into heavy displays of affection in front of Noah, but he knows that his parents love each other. Liam always has his hand on my back or on my hip or our fingers are locked together.
“Have you told him?” I whisper only for Liam to shake his head.
“I was waiting for you.”