Brain Freeze

Eight days ago I received the envelope indicating who are cooped up in my womb waiting to make their entrance into our lives. Eight nights I sat awake running through different scenarios based on what that envelope contains. It doesn’t matter what the ratio is—I’m just happy they are healthy. Still, that doesn’t lessen the excitement I’m feeling for our gender reveal shower today.

Once I returned home from my appointment, I called Zara to give her an update. She was upset I hadn’t confided in her about the potential health problems, but she understood my motivations and thanked me for considering her feelings. She did, however, insist I not keep anything from her in the future regarding her grandbabies. She wants to be a part of the entire process; the ups and downs.

Zara convinced me to allow her to host our gender reveal shower as retribution for being left out of the baby’s health scare. I’m not sure how she justified that was a fair trade, but I learned long ago not to argue with her once she’s decided something.

Jasmine, Zach’s younger sister, brought me a maternity dress for the occasion. If not for her I would have worn leggings and a sweater, but even those are getting tight. I put on the white maxi-dress with a blue and pink flowered belt. It’s cute, but more importantly, it’s comfortable.

As I’m pulling my hair back into a loose side braid, Liam enters the room. “Wow. You look beautiful.”

“Liam. I look like an orangutan meme. How do other people make pregnant bellies look cute?”

He chuckles at me but steps forward, placing his left hand on my belly and his right arm around my back to pull me close. “You look stunning. Every time I look at you, you take my breath away. Seeing your body change to grow our children, there’s nothing more beautiful than that. I love you so much, Babe. I love our babies, and I love the life we have together. Never, for one second, doubt how beautiful you are. To me, you’re perfection.”

Gulp. “Did you eat cheesy puffs or something, because your cheese-factor is even higher than normal.” I giggle, trying to reduce the seriousness of Liam’s declaration.

“Hey! I thought you liked my cheese. But I’m just being honest.”

“I know you are, and I appreciate that. I just don’t feel attractive at all. To be fair, I never felt attractive before I developed stretch marks and swollen ankles.” I pause for a second before asking a question that’s been on my mind for a few days. “Why did you stop calling me Big Red? You call me Babe now, which is fine, but I’ve been Big Red for years. Why?”

Liam glances around the room before his eyes settle on his fidgeting hands. “I know you’re feeling a little… um… large. I didn’t think being called Big Red would help. So I figured I’d call you Babe, because I think you are.” Liam scoops me up—a remarkable feat, considering my robust middle—and carries me to the bed, gently placing me down. “Do I need to show you how much of a babe you are?”

I squeal and squirm, laughing at his antics, grateful he always stops to consider my feelings. “Liam, stop. It took me forever to get my hair presentable.” Using him as a support, I pull myself to sit at the edge of the bed. “Besides, we have to leave in a minute, and Zara won’t be pleased if we’re late.”

“I can’t have my mother-in-law upset with me.” He rolls his eyes and chuckles. Zara has never been upset with Liam for anything. Ever.

“Just so you know, I’m not sexy or cute, but I’m still. Big. Red.”

To say my family went all out would be a gross understatement. We pull up to the huge white-stucco house and park in front of the garage. I’m giggling at the thought of Zach being instructed to hang decorations outside, knowing he’d do anything Zara asked of him, but probably wasn’t thrilled about it. He could teach a master class in the “happy wife, happy life” philosophy. I appreciate them and their relationship because growing up the way I did, their example taught me how a marriage should be.

When the door flies open, I’m still standing ten feet away, gaping at the immaculate décor. When I catch Zara’s eye, I wave my hand around and ask, “how did you do all of this so fast?”

“Um. Express shipping.”

Bond is the first to greet us as we walk in the door, so I give him a scratch behind his ears. Isla and Zach are close behind, both wearing pink and blue outfits. Guaranteed, that’s another thing Zach conceded on to please Zara. I notice Isla’s shirt says, “World’s Best Sister Aunt,” and laugh at how creative they’ve gotten. Fred and Alanna Levy are also here, so I make my way over to greet the only grandparents I’ve ever known. Alanna cries as soon as I walk toward her, stopping me in my tracks, unsure of what’s upset her.

“You look so beautiful,” she says, and I realize they are happy tears. I don’t recall seeing her cry once in the past decade, so the sight throws me. “Can I hug you?”

I appreciate that she’s still respectful of my boundaries, but I’ve grown a lot since I was the young girl afraid of affection. “Of course.” I welcome her into a brief hug before she sniffles and pulls away.

“I can’t believe I’m going to be a great grandma. My goodness, life goes too fast. It feels like just yesterday I was changing Zara’s poo—”

“Thanks mom! Chelsea doesn’t want to hear about my dirty diapers. She’ll have enough of those in her future,” Zara adds as she speed-walks past carrying a massive black balloon.

I socialize with everyone on our short guest list, but it doesn’t take long before I am exhausted, so I take a seat on the sofa and struggle to put my feet up on the coffee table. My ankles aren’t very swollen, but enough I want to keep my feet up as much as possible.

Dola comes to take a seat in an armchair across from me as Isla parks herself beside me on the couch. Without prompting, she grabs hold of my feet, pulls them onto her lap, and begins giving me a foot massage while making casual conversation. I don’t know how she knew my feet were aching, but the gesture means enough I’d consider naming a kid after her.

“So, what have you been up to now that you’re done school?” I ask.

She adjusts herself in her seat and avoids eye contact. “Not a whole lot. Just working on writing and college admissions.”

“Oh. Where are you applying?” I don’t want to say it out loud, but the thought of her moving away for school terrifies me. Not for her sake; she’s tough as nails. Selfishly, I’d miss her too much.

“I’m applying to Yorkville, University of Toronto, Sheridan, and Humber, which are all in the Toronto area. Two universities and two colleges. Jasmine says I could live with her and Rafael, but I’m trying to look into other options that are online.”

Relief sweeps through me for a second. She’s been homeschooled most of her life and done well with self-directed learning. I know she struggles with social anxiety and would likely have a hard time on a college campus, but even knowing that, I feel like she’s selling herself short by opting for online classes. “Why are you looking online? Aren’t the in-person classes much more reputable?”

She looks down at my feet again, still stroking them. “I don’t want to be far away, Chels. From you. From the babies. I want to be here to help you.”

I freeze for a moment, unsure of what to say. Dola chimes in, having been a silent party to our conversation. “You’re a dear, Isla. I admire your loyalty to Chelsea, but I know she’d want you to make the best decision for yourself. She’ll have us around to help with the babies, and Toronto isn’t too far.”

I smile at my mother-in-law, appreciating her insightfulness. “Exactly. My babies aren’t your responsibility, and while I very much want you to be a part of their lives, I don’t want you giving up yours in exchange. It doesn’t have to be one or the other.”

“That’s what Mom said.” She chuckles. “I don’t feel like I’m giving anything up, though. You know I wouldn’t enjoy typical college life, and I like directing my learning rather than being told what to learn, when. If I have a choice, I want to do school online. I just want to be close to you guys, too. To me, it’s the best of both worlds.”

I attempt to fold myself over and get closer to her so I can give her a hug, but my belly interferes, and my effort is met with an involuntary grunt. Isla laughs at my performance and leans in to give me a hug instead.

“You are the best sister-slash-aunt, you know? I love you, Troublemaker.”

“I love you, too.”

Interrupting our emotional moment, Zara chimes in, “Okay, we’re going to find out the sex of the babies, but we wanted to celebrate each one individually rather than doing them all at once. So, Chels, Liam, are you ready to find out if Baby A is a boy or a girl?”

I look at Liam and see him smiling so wide, his face is nearly split in half. He gives me a nod and reaches his hand out to take mine. He hoists me off of the couch and we walk over to the black balloon I saw Zara carrying earlier.

Liam and I stand on either side of the balloon, staring out at the seven most important people in our lives—eight, including Bond—who are looking back at us through cell phone cameras, ready to capture the moment.

Liam reaches behind the balloon strings to take my hand. “Are you ready, Momma?”

I return his wide smile. “I’m ready, Daddy.”

He waggles his eyebrows at me, and I can’t help but laugh. “One, two, three.” Pop!

A mass of baby blue balloons fall to the floor and everyone shouts, “it’s a boy!”

I sidestep through the balloon mess to pull Liam in for a hug. I can’t help but cry happy tears and realize how nonsensical that is, because I would have been equally as happy if the balloons were pink. There’s just something about knowing who exists inside me that has my emotions reaching a boiling point.

Fred is the first to ask, “Do you have any names picked out?”

I eye Liam, who replies, “No, not yet. We’ll have to work on that.”

“I’ve always been partial to the name Frederick, myself.” Everyone laughs, and we spend the next hour socializing; me mostly from my perch on the sofa.

Zara interrupts the chatter, “it’s time for baby B’s moment, then we’ll eat dinner.”

This time she has a box set up where the balloon had been previously. Liam and I take our positions, and once everyone has their cameras poised and ready, he rips off the tape. A rush of blue balloons fly to the ceiling.

“Another boy!” everyone shouts, followed by giggles.

I’m staring off into space, imagining our two baby boys. I’m so curious what they’ll look like. If they’ll have my ginger hair, or Liam’s skin tone. Will they have similar personalities, or be complete opposites of each other? I’m so excited to get to know them, and grateful they’ll have wonderful men in their lives to learn from.

Liam pulls me into his arms and kisses me. “You’re really outnumbered now, Babe.”

“I’m so happy.” I can’t say anything else because I’m sobbing like a stereotypical, emotional pregnant woman.

“Me too.”

After we eat dinner, Zara presents an elaborately decorated cake made by her friend Desirea of Desirea’s Sweets—Zara’s go-to bakery. I’m absolutely stuffed, but nothing is going to stop me from learning who else is joining our family.

As Liam and I stand behind the cake at the end of the large dining table, surrounded by our loved ones, I know whatever the colour is inside this cake won’t matter. Regardless, this baby will be loved and cherished, just as the two boys will be.

Liam and I each place a hand on the long cake knife that we used to slice our wedding cake over two years ago, and I recognize how far we’ve come from the two anti-social teens listening to Panic! At The Disco in my bedroom doing English homework.

The knife sinks into the cake, and we remove it to cut a slice. I take a deep breath as we lift it and see a blue strip of icing in the middle.

“Three boys!” Everyone cheers.

“Our boys.” Liam leans me back and kisses me in front of everyone.