Page 14 of Tastes Like Watermelon Moonshine
Through the grapevine I’ve heard that Austin will be spending Thanksgiving with his dad. I wonder how that will befor him. He was still so mad at his dad when he was drafted, even after they hashed a few things out at graduation.
A part of me wishes that he would come to Clear Creek for Thanksgiving instead… But am I ready to face him? I need to ask for his forgiveness. What if we talk, and he decides he doesn’t want a future with me? I don’t know that I want closure, even if it’s over. I’d rather live in my daydreams, believing that someday he’ll come back and we’ll live happily ever after, having more babies and running our own ranch.
Of course, I may not like giving birth. Or breastfeeding. I’ve always assumed that I would like motherhood. As a little girl that was my dream. Being a mom; lots of cooking, baking, reading, horseback riding, and lots of babies. Everything that my mom is, that she does. But my future now… Does God have something else in store? I can only hope that He has something planned, something good out of this hurt.
Baby Bean does a little flip and I can’t help but grin. The swishes have been growing stronger as I’ve been growing rounder. To be truthful I do love the look. Sometimes it’s like I shoved a tiny basketball under my shirt.
I love Baby Bean so much. I think my love for Baby Bean might just be greater than the pain I feel from the shame and the guilt. Jaimie and Chrissy giggled when I told them that I was going to call it Baby Bean until I knew its gender.
Right now they’re picking out paint colors for the baby’s room as we wait. I’m so thankful for their support. They were there while I was dating. They even did their best to help me be accountable and not cross the boundaries that Austin and I had set up. And somehow, they aren’t judging me. Instead they’re standing with me, supporting me.
Jaimie has a page of color swatches open on her phone, “Oooh, this one, ‘girl talk.’ Totally the color for a little girl’s room.”
“What if she isn’t a girly-girl… Likeyou?” Chrissy pokes a finger into Jaimie’s upper arm. “Maybe she wants–” she grabs Jaimie’s phone and scrolls, “‘winter shamrock’ instead.” She raises her brows with her signature dramatic flair. There’s a reason she’s a drama major at Baylor. “Ugh, now I want a shamrock shake.” She makes a pouty lip. “Oooh, maybe Freddy’s has some green mint ice cream and can make me a shake!” She grabs my arm. “Can we celebrate Baby Bean's gender reveal? With shakes afterwards, pretty pretty please?”
“Y’all, we don’t even know if Baby Bean is a girl or a boy yet.” I say with a giggle. “And if y’all keep fighting, the tech might kick you out of the room, and…” I put on my best stern mom face, but I can’t keep from smiling, “I’ll make you wait until Baby Bean is born to find out the gender.”
“You wouldn’t dare!” Chrissy flings a hand to her forehead, her eyes going wide, before wilting back in her chair. She doesn’t need to be a drama major. It oozes from her pores!
“Okay, fine, I wouldn’t make you wait that long…” Thoughtfully, I tap a finger against my chin. “Maybe just until Christmas.” At first I’d thought of doing a party of some sort to announce Baby Bean’s gender, but it didn’t feel fair to have a party when Austin wasn’t there. And especially when he didn't even know. What if he doesn’t want to be a father? What if he doesn’t believe the baby is his? I push away the intrusive thoughts. I’ve got to focus on the here and now.
Jaimie turns off her phone’s display. “I guess we should save the paint shopping until after we know what Baby Bean is. Do we need to do a video of you finding out?” She waves her phone in the air. “I have no clue how ultrasounds work.”
I shake my head. “Nope, they’ll print out the pictures, just like my first ultrasound, and they can even send it all in an email as well.”
“I love that we get to see inside your belly,” Chrissy says with a giggle. “So… Have you thought anymore about telling Austin?” She watches me, compassion and maybe even some sadness swimming in her eyes; waiting for my answer.
“Well, I mean… I’vethoughtabout it plenty.” I bite my lip and stare at my fingernails “I just don’t, like, know when to tell him, or if, or like, what I would even say.” I hate when people pepper the wordlikeinto the dialogue too much, but in my nervousness it’s coming out way too often.
The tech thankfully chooses now to show up, and saves me from having to discuss telling Austin anymore. She introduces herself and explains what all she'll look for and asks if there were any special instructions when it comes to finding out the gender.
Chrissy and Jaimie look at me, Chrissy with her puppy dog eyes and Jaimie with a smirk. I would love to just find out now, but…
“Could you put it in an envelope? And we’ll find out later?” I finally say. Chrissy gives me a poochie lip while Jaimie shrugs and rolls her eyes at Chrissy’s dramatics. My mom has been my biggest supporter, so I really want her there when I find out if Baby Bean is a boy or a girl.
The tech walks through every measurement and every little feature on Baby Bean. If it’s possible, my heart seems to grow every time I see Baby Bean wiggle around. I can’t believe how wiggly he, or maybe she, is. Baby Bean is moving so much that the tech struggles to get the measurements at times.
Every finger and toe has been counted now. And I’m holding the envelope with the gender in my hand as I wait to see my midwife.
“Just a quick, tiny peek?” Chrissy says in a squeaky voice as she pinches her thumb and index finger together.
I shake my head and laugh. “Nope. You can find out tonight. At dinner.” I pull my phone from my bag. “I’m going to text mymom and have her make a cake, and we’ll open the envelope while we eat the cake.”
Before I hit send I realize maybe we should pick out a flavor. And as much as I’d love to make the cake myself and play around with a new flavor, because of the drive home I won’t have enough time to make it, let it cool, and ice it before dinner. “Oh, what kind of cake do you want?”
“Strawberry!”
“No, blueberry.”
“Ooh, chocolate?”
“Definitely not vanilla, too boring and plain.”
These girls should make their own debate team. They list off the most outlandish flavors before I put my hands up and shush them.
“I’m going to pick. Stop fighting!” I text my mom my favorite flavor, covering my phone with my hands before shutting off the screen so that they can’t peek.
The door squeals on its hinges as my midwife, Jenn, sticks her head in before she slips all the way inside. “Raegan! Good to see you again. Did y’all find out baby’s gender or are you waiting?”
