Wednesday, November 18, 2009
BabyGate - Part 8
The morning of the Gator game, I packed my syringes and little glass jars in a lunch box that I used to take to work with me. The doctor told me David could administer a shot in a stadium bathroom if need be, which I desperately wanted to avoid.
I also packed cookies. You know, typical game day, syringes and cookies.
We arrived way too early and spent an afternoon baking in the sun. I kept checking to make sure my lunch box was safe in the car and that the ice hadn’t melted. I checked it so many times you’d think it WAS a baby. I thought about it the entire time I was inside the game. I wonder if the lunchbox feels lonely? I wonder if it’s too hot or too cold? I doner if it knows I’m coming back for it.
It’s normal for my family to leave a Gator game early if it’s clear our team will win. This happens more often than not. So at about 7pm, when our team was CLEARLY winning, I asked Dave if we could leave early. He looked at his mom and asked, “Can we leave early?” I gave her the Puss in Boots big eyes from Shrek. She said, “Ask your father.” We all turned our heads in a big, waving moving towards David’s father, who said, “Oh, I’d like to stay.” Now, David’s father rarely expresses an opinion. He is very happy to go with the flow of the family. So when he says he wants to stay, we stay. Damnit, we stay.
I stared at my watch until 7:30 when the game finally ended. I knew we could do the shots at home (where I WANTED to do them) if we could just make it there by 9. There was just one problem: the entire city of Jacksonville was parked in the stadium parking lot. By the time we got to the car it was already 8pm. And to top it off, David’s parents drove so our car was back at their house, 20 minutes away from home. I envisioned David and I in the back seat of his parent’s van with syringes and vials trying to hold steady over the potholes and sudden stops to avoid hitting drunk Gator fans. Then I ate an entire bag of chips.
We got to my in-laws house at 8:45. I rushed, lunchbox in my arms, to our car. If we booked it, we could do the shots at home. If we didn’t make it, we would have to pull over. Dave was driving fast but I still repeated, faster, faster! When my phone rang and I saw that it was my best friend, I picked up for a nice distraction.
“Where have you been?” was the first thing she asked.
“I was a the Gator game all day! Sorry!”
“I’ve been trying to call you!”
“Oh! I didn’t mean to worry you. Everything ok?”
She sighed. “Yes. Everything ok with you? Pregnant yet?”
“No, I’m not pregnant. Other than that I’m fine.”
“Sorry babe,” she said.
She always asks if I’m pregnant. She has been with me every step of the way through this process, which has been so wonderful. She’s always checking in to see what the latest doctor appointment revealed and how I’m feeling on the pills and the shots, etc.
“So what’s new with you?” I asked while we drove off the interstate. Almost home.
“Well, I was calling you all day to tell you…” I immediately started screaming. I knew exactly what she was about to say and I couldn’t get any words out except for the highest-pitched scream ever. I broke glass. Dogs came running from everywhere. David almost wrecked the car. My best friend was pregnant.
I completely lost track of how important the shots were and I wandered around the house talking to her about how she was feeling and how thrilled I was for her. We always said we would be pregnant together and I never expected it could actually happen. And here she was, pregnant and waiting for me to hurry up and meet her there.
I hung up and David was already ready to give me the shot. I had so much adrenaline rushing through my veins from the phone call that the shot didn’t even hurt. In fact, it felt good knowing I was one step closer and could actually be pregnant with my best friend this month.
Posted by Erin Cohen at 10:35 AM