Babyland

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Authors: Holly Chamberlin

BOOK: Babyland
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AND BABY MAKES THREE
“Ross,” I said, as he began to unpack a bag marked New Wine and Spirits. “I have something to tell you.”
I perched on the edge of the couch. Ross followed with a glass of wine and settled comfortably next to me.
“It's nice to come home to you after a long day at the office,” he said. “It's very relaxing.”
Well, I thought, it won't be very relaxing for much longer.
And then I told him that I was pregnant. The expression on his face was impossible to read. He turned from me, reached for a coaster, and carefully set his wineglass on the coffee table.
“Ross?” Gently, I touched his shoulder. “Ross?” I repeated, ready for the worst.
And then he completely surprised me.
He leapt up from the couch, lifted me up after him and hugged me like he'd never hugged me before.
“This is the most amazing thing that's ever happened to me!” he cried.
“So you're not upset?” I asked.
“Am I upset? Anna, I'm kind of in shock, but it's going to be great!”
Books by Holly Chamberlin
LIVING SINGLE
 
THE SUMMER OF US
 
BABYLAND
 
BACK IN THE GAME
 
 
Published by Kensington Publishing Corporation
babyland
Holly Chamberlin
KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP. 
http://www.kensingtonbooks.com
All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.
Table of Contents
AND BABY MAKES THREE
Books by Holly Chamberlin
Title Page
Dedication
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Part One
1
-
Mysterious Ways
2
-
All Eyes Upon Her
3
-
He's Got It All
4
-
Goodbye to All That
5
-
And Baby Makes Three
6
-
The Other Road Traveled
7
-
Adjustments
8
-
Domestic Bliss
9
-
Old Ladies Having Babies
10
-
Orange Blossoms, Sugared Almonds, and Thou
11
-
Family Ties
12
-
Sympathy for the Devil
13
-
Foray into Suburbia
14
-
Do No Harm
15
-
The Parents
16
-
Between the Sheets
17
-
The Inimitable
18
-
The Last Vestiges
19
-
Of the Flesh
20
-
Panic in Babyland
21
-
Arrevederci, Anna
22
-
What Makes a Man
23
-
The Lion in His Den
24
-
Peas in the Pod
25
-
The Elephant in the Room
26
-
Three's a Crowd
27
-
Practice to Deceive
28
-
A Rose by Any Other Name
29
-
Green-Eyed Monster
30
-
Woman to Woman
31
-
Babies 101
32
-
Anna, Supersized
33
-
Epiphany
34
-
Hauntings
35
-
Curiosity Kills
36
-
Libido Limbo
37
-
Carpe Diem
38
-
What's in a Name
39
-
The Lady Doth Protest
40
-
Retrospect
41
-
Showers, Showers Everywhere
42
-
Acid Bath
43
-
Ashes
44
-
Process
45
-
Retail Backfire
46
-
Not So Secret Society
47
-
Thou Shalt Not Covet
48
-
The Premarital Bed
49
-
Connections
50
-
Something New
51
-
Love Happens
52
-
Betrayal
53
-
Making Sense of It
54
-
Sur L'Herbe
55
-
Analyze This
56
-
Necessity
57
-
The Introduction
58
-
Knock Down, Drag Out
As always, for Stephen;
and this time, also for Joanie.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
The author would like to thank all the people who so warmly welcomed her to a new life in Maine, especially Kit and Carrie. Their friendship has become invaluable.
 
She would also like to acknowledge all the wee ones who bring such joy to her life—Lucca, Ella, Madison, Kimberly, and Colleen.
 
Welcome to the world, Kathryn Elizabeth Donner!
 
Thanks to the artist Judith Sowa.
 
Last but never least, the author would like to thank her editor, John Scognamiglio, for his expertise and encouragement. Every writer should be so lucky.
Part One
1
Mysterious Ways
T
hink about a trauma, like a car crash, sudden and unexpected. Or think about having your purse snatched. You're walking down the block, minding your own business, when out of the blue some creep grabs your purse and makes off with it while you stand there gaping and gesturing wildly. People stare, some might even stop to ask what happened, but no one can really help. The deed has been done. The car crashed; the creep stole your purse.
Nothing will ever be the same. Your perspective has been radically changed. You have been radically changed. And suddenly, life is wrought with consequences you never imagined because you never imagined the inciting incident.
You ask yourself: Why didn't I ever imagine that I could be in a car crash? Why didn't I ever imagine that my purse could be snatched? Why didn't I ever imagine that I could get pregnant even though I was on the pill?
I was thirty-seven and a half years old the morning I discovered I was pregnant. Going to have a baby. Knocked up. In the family way. The morning I learned I had a bun in the oven.
Thirty-seven and a half years old the morning I found out that I was expecting a blessed event—in other words, the end of my life as I knew it.
My name is Anna Traulsen, and this is my story. At least, the part of my story during which everything just exploded.
Back to that auspicious morning.
My first thought after dropping the pink plastic stick into the white porcelain sink was:
Oh, my God, this can't be happening.
My second thought, after retrieving the stick to give it one more hard look, was:
Of course this can be happening. I had sex. I missed my period. So of course I'm pregnant. This is what happens.
My third thought, after tossing the offending stick into the brushed-aluminum trash can was:
What will Ross say!
Ross Davis was my fiancé. From the day I met him he'd declared pretty strongly that he did not want children. And when we got engaged, Ross reminded me that a family of two—Ross and me—was all the family he wanted.
And I'd gone along with that.
Except for maybe a dog, I'd suggested. A small dog, one with short hair so the shedding problem would be minimal.
Ross had agreed. Maybe a dog. A small, nondestructive dog. The kind you can train to pee on newspaper.
Well, I thought that awful morning in April, a baby most certainly isn't a dog, and although it is small, it most certainly is destructive. It spits up on your best silk blouse; siphons your bank account in an alarming way; and puts a firm, wailing, pooping end to your sex life.
The thing that had gotten you into trouble in the first place.
Sex with a man.
I remember thinking that I should call Ross right away. I assumed he hadn't left the condo for his office yet; Ross is never his best in the morning. I belted my robe more tightly around my middle and hurried from the bathroom. With a practiced motion I snatched my cell phone from the kitchen counter where it had been recharging for the past eight hours.
The number was loaded; I hit the proper button.
A woman's voice answered on the first ring.
“Alexandra,” I said. “I need to talk to you.”

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