Page 98 of Own the Eights Maybe Baby
“Unfortunately, we had to say goodbye to one of our couples. They moved overseas and had to pull out of the competition,” Stu added.
Welp, they were dead last. But that was about to change.
More than that—today, they’d know if they had a little miss or a little mister on the way!
They could debate names and go back and forth over what color to paint the baby’s room.
Then, a wave of relief settled over her. This was also the day she was going to contact Howard’s office, and all the weeks of worrying and wondering how her mother would react would be over.
Would the woman go full-on socialite or insist on a spiritual in utero chanting session? Either was possible. But they’d be okay. Their time with Ollie proved they were up for the parenting task.
“I’d like to ask the non-pregnant partner to take out their cell phone and open the Battle of the Births app. Then, click on the heart icon,” Lenny instructed.
Jordan slipped his phone from his pocket and opened the app.
“Thanks to the hospital practice-run challenge, you all know that your infant simulation doll is a technological feat. And guess what? This doll has another surprise. Now, we’d like the pregnant partner to place the doll in your lap, then grip your baby’s left arm,” Lenny instructed.
“Here we go, Faby,” she said, following directions.
Jordan held his phone so she could see the screen. “Georgie, I think Faby can act as a heart rate monitor.”
“What?”
“Like the handlebars on the treadmills at my gym. It looks like the information is sent to the app,” he explained.
“Look at you, Faby. You’re not just a beeping demon-baby,” she said, then instantly felt like an idiot when the pregnant woman next to her gasped at her demon-baby description.
“I’m being silly,” she said as the woman gave her a curt,we’re-done-herenod.
“Play nice,” Jordan teased.
“Is the app doing anything?” she asked.
“Yeah, it’s tracking your heart rate. You’re clocking in at a respectable eighty-two,” he answered, showing her the heart icon blinking with an eight and a two next to it.
“Is that good?”
He nodded. “A resting heart rate should be between sixty and one hundred. You’re doing great.”
She nestled into him. “We’ve got this challenge in the bag.”
Lenny strummed his guitar to get everyone’s attention.
“We’ve got every contestants’ heart rate readouts on our laptop,” Lenny said as Stu held up the device.
“This challenge is about meditation and staying calm under pressure,” Stu explained, then gestured to a woman who looked like she came straight out of a yoga apparel advertisement.
“Dawn is a meditation specialist,” the man continued. “She’s here to lead you in some breathing exercises you can utilize during your child’s birth.”
Lenny held up several white envelopes. “Here’s the catch. We’re going to hand you the envelope with your baby’s gender information inside. It would be easy to get excited and send your heart rate through the roof. We know that you’re all eager to learn if you’re having a boy or a girl.”
“The challenge is to maintain a resting heart rate for the entire forty-minute meditation. Then, we’ll head outdoors—after Nadine’s group is safely off the premises—and open our envelopes as a group.”
She felt her husband shift behind her as he raised his hand.
“Yes, Jordan,” Lenny said, calling on him.
“How do we know who wins?”
