That Baby (51 page)

Danny is playing on the TV, the baby is sleeping in my arms, and Phillip is asleep in the recliner next to the bed. I stare at both of them in a happy daze. I notice the baby journal tucked into the chair next to Phillip, so I carefully reach over and grab it, deciding I need to write something.
 

I’m shocked to find out that Phillip already has.

Dear Baby Mac,

You were born three weeks early on September 7th, weighed in at six pounds five ounces, and were 19 1/2 inches long. You were early because you and Mommy got into a car accident and it caused her to have something called a placental abruption. That’s a bad thing because it meant she was bleeding and you were not getting all the oxygen you needed.
 

When you were born, you were a little blue and your APGAR score was low, but the nurses took care of you and the next time they did the score, you were almost perfect. Your mom had a rougher time and, for a while, I thought we had lost her.
 

It was the worst pain I’ve ever experienced. Way worse than any of the bones I’ve broken. Even the time I fell out of a tree and they had to screw my arm back together.
 

But when you love someone the way I love your mom, you’d happily take physical pain over the emotional kind.

She’s in the ICU now. Stable but critical. They say the next twenty-four hours are crucial.
 

And I’ll admit, I’m scared.
 

My parents are here—your grandparents.
 

And Danny. Danny is my best friend and he’s never left my side through all of this. I hope someday you will have a friend like him.
 

Everyone has been asking me what your name is. To be honest, I thought you were going to be a girl. We had agreed on a girl’s name but not a boy’s.
 

But your mom’s favorite was Chase, so I decided on Chase Michael Mackenzie. You have a grandpa and grandma in heaven.
 

And it may sound crazy, but when I was crying in the waiting room, out of the corner of my eye, I thought I saw him rocking you. When I turned to see if I was just hallucinating, he was gone. But I’m pretty sure he was there. Helping us get through it.
 

So I gave you his middle name, Michael.
 

I have to admit, I always thought most babies were kinda ugly.
 

But not you.
 

You’re perfect.
 

I’ve been holding you and feeding you until your mom is able to. And staring in wonder at your ten perfect fingers, ten perfect toes, and the cute little way you ball your fists up before you start crying.
 

It’s been killing your grandparents, but I won’t let anyone else hold you until she has.

She went through a lot to bring you into this world and she deserves that honor.

And I’ve been telling you all about her. About how she’s been writing in this journal. About how she couldn’t wait to meet you.
 

About how much she loves you.

When your mom and I were young, we’d lie in a hammock and stare up at the stars. We’d talk about how infinitely big the universe is and how small we were in comparison. Your mom once told me that she felt small compared to how big our love felt.
 

I didn’t completely understand what she meant that day, but I certainly do now.
 

The love I feel for the two of you is almost overwhelming, like the size of the universe.
 

Your mom has a special charm bracelet and I sent my dad out to buy her a diamond star, so that she’ll always know we feel the same way about her.
 

When she wakes up, we’ll give it to her together.
 

I love you, Chase Michael Mackenzie, and I know your mommy can’t wait to meet you.
 

And, as soon as she finds out you’re a boy, she’ll probably tell me she told me so.
 

Sleep well, my precious baby boy.

All my love,
 

Daddy

Tears stream down my face. Phillip gave me this journal so I could write to the baby, but that isn’t really what I did. The journal was written more for me than for him.
 

I wrote some things that probably weren’t appropriate.
 

I wrote some things that were probably stupid.
 

I wrote some things that were probably silly.
 

But this journal represents my real journey. It’s not a sugarcoated fluff piece.
 

And, someday, I’ll tell him that nothing in this journal prepared me for the way I feel right now.
 

Nothing.
 

No childbirth class.
 

No books read.
 

Nothing could have prepared me, because there is nothing in the world that compares to the feeling of holding your baby for the first time.
 

I smile, realizing I know now exactly when I’ll let him read it.
 

When he’s expecting his own baby someday.
 

Because I’ll want him to know that sometimes life doesn’t always go the way you planned it.
 

And sometimes tragedy can strike when you least expect it.
 

But sometimes it can be even more incredible than you ever imagined.

I grab a pen and start writing.
 

Dear Chase Michael Mackenzie,

My perfect sweet baby boy.
 

We're still in the hospital. Your dad is taking a nap and I've got your uncle Danny's football game on, but mostly I'm watching you sleep in my arms. You're making the cutest little faces as you dream and I can't wait until the day you smile at me for real.
 

I wish my parents were here to see you, but I know for sure that they are watching over us.
 

There’s something I want you to always remember.
 

You and I could have had a very different outcome. We’re both lucky to be alive. I'll be thankful for every single day I get to spend with you.
 

And something else I know.
 

You are destined for greatness.
 

I don't know what you'll do or be, but I know it as surely as I feel my own heartbeat.
 

And I'm going to do everything I can to prepare you for it.
 

All my love,

Mommy

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Epilogue
 

July 4th

I glance out the window as I’m dragging three-year-old Madden out of the bathroom. He’s been doing great at potty training, but I have to watch him closely because he’s obsessed with water and would flush the toilet all day if we’d let him. Phillip is in the backyard putting the finishing touches on the big play set he’s spent the last two weekends building. He built a smaller one when the kids were little but, since they’re getting older, he decided they needed something bigger. This one takes up a fourth of the backyard with its rock climbing wall, monkey bars, two slides, a sand box, rope and regular swings, and a crow’s nest.
 

His shirt is off and sweat is rolling down his muscles. I’d like to pull him in the house for a quickie before the older kids get home from getting fireworks, but a quick peek at my watch tells me there’s no time.
 

“Come on, Madden,” I say, kissing the top of his head. “Let’s go outside and check on Daddy.”

“Dad-dy!” he screams and takes off running. There’s a reason we stopped after four kids. Madden’s been an adorable, energy-filled terror since birth.

As he tears through the kitchen, I stop to turn down the heat on the ribs that have been cooking all day in preparation for the Fourth of July party we’re having. Earlier today, the kids decorated and rode their bikes in the annual neighborhood parade and later tonight there will be a big fireworks display over the lake.

“Dad-dy!” Madden screams again, beating his head against the French doors. I move fast, hoping to avoid a tantrum. I scoop him up, open the door, carry him down the stairs, and then let him loose in the backyard. He runs—well, sort of waddles—then trips on the hose and crashes to the ground. I run up behind him to see if he’s okay, but he pops up and keeps going. Danny says he’s going to be a lineman.

Angel follows us down the steps slowly, her hips stiff with arthritis. I know she won’t be with us much longer. Phillip and I have actually started talking about getting a puppy to make it a little easier on the kids when she passes.
 

“Hey, Crusher,” Phillip says, calling Madden by his nickname. “You want to swing?”

“No! I slide!”

Phillip helps him climb up the ladder and lets him go down the twister slide. I run to the bottom to catch him.
 

“Let him do it himself,” Phillip says. “So he gets the hang of—”
 

“Wahhhhh!” Madden screeches as he gets to the bottom and face plants into the grass. He stands up, his eyes full of crocodile tears as he runs to me.

“Did you go boom?” I ask him.
 

Madden giggles when Angel, who’s protective of the kids, licks his entire face. Then he yells, “Again!”

“See, he’s tough,” Phillip says, pulling me into his arms and kissing my neck. “By the way, my wife looks sexy.”

“I didn’t think I was ever going to get rid of the baby weight from him, but I’m finally back—almost—to normal,” I say, looking down at the new bikini I’m wearing.
 

“You look amazing. Always. And very patriotic.”

“You’re just horny,” I laugh, kissing him again. “I am too, actually. I was watching you work out here with no shirt on. It’s too bad we can’t still put Madden in a playpen.”

“Well, what did you expect, when you’re wearing a skimpy little red, white, and blue bikini that reminds me of the one you had in high school?”

I don’t get to answer because his mouth covers mine in a deep, sexy kiss.

“Tonight after the kids go to sleep and everyone goes home, you and me have a date in the hot tub,” he purrs. “We’ll make some fireworks of our own.”

“That sounds amazing.” I press against him, wrapping my arms around his neck and kissing him again.

“Oh, gross,” Chase says, flinging the back gate open, causing Angel to bound across the yard, her tail wagging furiously and making her look young again. Angel loves all of us, but she loves Chase the most. She slept under his crib when he was a baby and has slept in his room pretty much ever since. As Chase bends down and rubs her ears, he says, “Look, Dani, they’re kissing.”

Devaney Diamond, who Chase—much to Danny and Lori’s chagrin—has called Dani since he was old enough to attempt her name and who made it stick, puts her hands on her hips.
 

“Kissing is for grownups,” she says, repeating what Lori must have told her when she caught Dani giving Chase a kiss the other day. Chase came home upset. He may look like me, but his personality is all Phillip. He’s smart and thoughtful. When I asked what happened, he told me that Dani kissed him, but that Miss Lori got mad and sent him home. We had one of our most in-depth conversations to date about the birds and the bees.
 

Chase—who at almost ten is very tall for his age—grabs Dani’s hand, pulling her toward the play set and yelling, “Dad, can we climb on the rock wall now?”

Phillip reluctantly lets go of me. “Yeah, come over here and I’ll show you how to do it.”

“We already know how, Dad,” our daughter, Haley James says, rolling her eyes. She’s only eight, but has already mastered the teen eye roll. She’s also a walking contradiction, tough as nails but always wearing something pink or glittery. Because she’s our only girl—and I know my mom would have done it if she were here—I totally indulge and encourage her love of all things sparkly and girly. She’s a beast on the soccer field, a good gymnast, and both she and Dani are on competitive cheer teams.

Danny, Lori, and their son, Damon—who will be a fourth grader this fall with Chase—let themselves in the backyard, carrying sacks of fireworks.
 

“We got a ton of sparklers!” Damon says. “And Dad says Chase, Dani, and me can light smoke bombs and snakes this year all by ourselves, if it’s okay with you.”

“I’m okay with that,” I say. “As long as you’re caref—”

“Damon,” Lori chastises. “I told you that I don’t know if
I’m
okay with it. I think you’re all too young to be playing with fire.”

Damon and Danny both roll their eyes, giving Lori the same look. It makes me laugh. Damon is going to give them hell as a teen. Lori will freak out and Danny will secretly be proud.