Juniper and I have been staring at each other across our kitchen table for a few days. Every now and then, one of us will say, “Pregnant. Hm.” It’s such a fucking weird feeling. We made a human. Not even on purpose. It seemed hilarious when this happened to Tim. Now that it’s me about to be a dad? Everything is swirling around in my head. Like Christmas. It’s almost Christmas. Next year at this time I’ll be buying presents for a kid and playing Santa and all that. And who even knows if I’ll be in town for the kid’s first Christmas. I’m on the road all the fucking time for hockey. It’s not like Juniper can pack up and come with me. She has a fucking career. And you can’t just have a baby go through time zones and stuff.
“Judge Juney,” I say, slurping at my coffee.
“Hm?”
“Judge Juney. I want to call you that, JJ.” I smile at her. I’m so damn proud of my wife. She’s a rock star. But we are barely holding our shit together over here. Both of us have really demanding jobs. I only just figured out about sending out laundry. How will a baby Stag fit into this madness? I scoot my chair closer to her and drop a hand on her thigh like nothing’s happened. I just want to touch her, reassure myself that’s she still there. Still real.
“What do we think about asking Becky for more help around here,” I ask, waving my hand around our townhouse, where the dishes are piling high. Our housekeeper had been coming once a week for just a few hours, but if Juniper’s going to be falling asleep at 6pm and puking all morning, we are going to need more help. Especially if I’m on the road. I tug on my hair. It should be me here every morning by my wife’s side, rubbing her back while she barfs. I guess until we figure out an answer, we can just get more help.
Juniper nods and says, “that’s a really good idea, Ty.” She sighs. “I have to go to the store. I need more crackers and stuff.”
“I’ll order that for you online,” I tell her, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. “We can have them delivered. You’ve got me all to yourself for like 18 more hours. Can we talk about…all of this?”
She sighs a deep, slow agreement and tells me, “I just keep thinking about my mom. I have no idea who she is. Or was?” Juniper grew up in a group home until her dad adopted her as a kid. We never did find out who her birth parents were. “I don’t have any way to know if she got sick every day like this. If she had an easy birth…I have no history, Ty. How can I do this without history?”
“It’s not a legal case, JJ. You don’t need to find the precedent. We will figure it all out together.” I lean in and kiss her forehead, then tug her onto my lap and rub her back while I can. “We will just ask Alice everything.”
Resting my chin on the top of her head, I wonder about my own mom. Tim showed us the picture of her on the wall at the midwife place where Alice had Petey. Tim and Thatcher can remember mom pregnant with me, and I sure am jealous of that. But fuck. I can’t wait to see what Juniper looks like pregnant with a little Staglet. “This baby is going to be so damn tall,” I tell her, dropping a hand to her stomach. Her abs are still tight and firm. We did some math after the election and she’s just a month pregnant. It must have happened on that stretch of home games where I was waking her up to celebrate every night in between her campaign stops and my pre-season games. I smile, wondering if we made a baby on the kitchen floor or on the couch or in our bed.
“I can feel you thinking dirty thoughts, Tyrion Stag,” she says, but she wraps her arms around me. I feel like the ice has been broken. Like we can be ourselves around each other again. “I guess I need to make a baby plan. Like when am I supposed to see a doctor?”
“Do you think you want to try seeing the midwives where my mom went?” I try not to sound desperate, but god damn, I want some connection with my family for all of this. I want to see that midwife who saw my mom through having all of us. “I’d like to at least go check them out. If that’s ok,” I tell her.
Juniper sighs again and tells me Alice has been pestering her to do that, too. “Alice says the baby will glide right out of me because I have powerful thighs,” she laughs. But I figure that’s probably true. Juniper is tough as hell. At least the baby won’t come until after playoffs, I think, looking at the wall calendar. I know for damn sure I wouldn’t miss my kid being born, but it’s definitely a lot easier knowing I don’t have to dance around the pro hockey schedule.
Juniper pulls out her phone so we can look at the calendar and make some appointments. It feels better just having dates on the books. I’m going to have to miss some practice sessions, she’s going to have to cut short her time at Stag Law, but we are going to figure this shit out. Together. By the time we finish, Juniper even feels up to a run, so we layer up and step outside into the crisp November air.
We aim small, since she’s been feeling so lousy, deciding to stop for peppermint lattes at the coffee shop 2 miles from our house. It’s just starting to get dark, and even though it’s mid-November, a lot of people have put their lights up already. We fall in step beside one another, puffing out frosted breaths and spying on these picturesque houses already so immersed in the family feel of the holidays. It’s easy to believe everything will be ok, sipping a warm, minty drink and holding hands beneath those glowing lights. We will figure it all out. Eventually.