8 Months Later
Alice finally agreed to marry me in early May. Our families gathered in her parents’ back yard and one of my friends from law school, now a judge in the city courts, officiated. Alice's wild hair hung long and loose, spilling down her back and around the deep green dress that hugged our baby.
The round form of our son jutted from Alice’s front, taut and centered so you’d never know she was pregnant from the back. As I pulled her in to kiss her after our vows, I felt him kick and admired his timing.
A few days after the ceremony, Alice carries the final box into our kitchen. She began sleeping here with me as soon as we finished painting and all the fumes dissipated. We sold my penthouse and have been gradually rearranging so the house is ready for Baby Stag. Gran decided she was more comfortable on the third floor, despite all the stairs, and it seems like every corner of our home has fresh life in it. Alice has added plants, family photographs, and soft rugs. Every room has a quiet place to sit, with a stash of baby supplies.
She’s really taken this musty old house, full of sadness and grief, and transformed it into a place of love and life and hope. I take the box from her hands--her cookbooks are far too heavy for someone 40 weeks pregnant--and pull her into my arms. “Mrs. Stag, you should be resting.”
“Mr. Stag, I feel restless!” she giggles. “I keep having this feeling there’s something else I need to be doing, but I can’t figure out what it would be.” She shrugs and lets me massage her shoulders. “Mmm that feels nice.”
I move so I’m standing behind her, pulling her close against me, massaging her shoulders and rubbing her arms while I kiss her neck. I twist her hair around my fist and lift, blowing gently on the nape of her neck. “I can help you find an outlet for that nervous energy,” I tell her. When she groans I let my hand drift lower, lower, meeting the heat of her core.
“Tim.” Her tone shifts, her body stiffens under my hands.
“What’s up, babe?”
“I’m having a contraction.”
My hand shoots instinctively to her belly, where I feel the strong muscles tighten and eventually soften. “It’s really happening! Ok, what do we do?”
“Now we just walk and wait,” Alice says, pulling my hand. She asks me to text her sister, who of course tells her brothers and they somehow reach my brothers. Soon enough, our house is full of aunts and uncles taking turns rubbing Alice’s lower back, breathing with her as she walks up and down the stairs.
A few hours later, Alice can no longer talk through her contractions and she tells me it’s time to head into the Midwife Center. I freeze, momentarily terrified. I’m not ready. How can anyone ever be ready for this? My brothers squeeze my arms, and I look at them. “You got this, big bro,” Thatcher says. “We’ll be right behind you in Amy’s minivan.”
I nod and, breathing slowly through my nose, I help Alice into the back seat of the Volvo. I try to help her with her seatbelt, but Alice shoves my arm out of the way. She isn’t talking right now, breathing through pursed lips. She leans backwards over the seat. “You’re not going to buckle up? Alice, that’s--”
“Tim, just fucking drive.” She nestles her head in her hands and I see that there’s no getting around this. She groans as I drive through the night, much too fast for neighborhood roads. “Next time I think we should just stay home,” she says, in between contractions.
Carol greets us at the door and ushers us quickly inside the Desert Room. As quickly as Alice is able to move, in between groans and long contractions. I ask Carol if she’s planning to check Alice’s progress, but Carol smiles as Alice moans long and deep. “No need to check anything, Tim. Your wife is about to birth this baby.”
The second we cross the threshold, Alice drops to her hands and knees. I move around front of her to meet her eyes. She locks her gaze onto mine and puts her hands on my shoulders. She starts panting and I can see her body squeezing. Her body is pushing a human being to the outside. “Alice, you’re so amazing, sweetheart. You humble me right now, baby.”
She can’t speak. She’s not blinking and I don’t dare break her gaze until suddenly, she starts breathing easily again. “The head’s out,” Carol says softly. “Alice, reach down and feel your baby.” I’m frozen in awe, looking down to see the dark curls of our son. “One more big push and he’ll be here with us.” Carol puts a gloved hand on my shoulder. “Tim, why don’t you reach down and catch your babe?”
I don’t even pause to think that I have no idea what to do. Alice groans one final time and I reach out to lift the slippery, pink, howling child my wife just brought into the world. Sobbing, I hand him to Alice. Because it's a him. A son. I have a son. She gazes down at him, euphoric, kissing him everywhere. Peter Stag is here to change everything. Somewhere in the distance, I hear Carol congratulating us, telling us he’s healthy and that Alice is perfectly fine.
Somewhere in the distance, I hear my brothers and Alice's siblings spilling into this room that’s no longer a desert but an ocean of love. At the center of it, amid all the cheers, kneels Alice, looking radiant and exhausted. When I meet her eyes again, she is so much more than she was a second ago. My wife, my world, the mother of my son. I lean in to kiss her and wrap my arms around this family that will make me whole and teach me every day to let go and trust. “I love you,” I whisper to them both. “I love you.”
If you want to read more about Amy and Doug, check out Lesson Plans: An Education in Romance.
She’s totally off limits…and she’s also kind of mean. He wants her anyway.