Part III
I can't tell you why I wanted kids so badly; I'm not a psychologist. Maybe it's because my parents were divorced when I was two. I remember, as a child, finding out how babies were made...
Boys will be boys, and the subject of sex came up. When my cousin asked me if I knew where babies came from, I was about ten years old. I really wasn't sure, so I lied.
Our cousins were visiting from Baltimore. An extended family of my dad's mother, Margaret. Even as a kid, I remember their parents being pompous assholes.
The modest house we had needed to be better. Our family car needs to be more fancy. None of it seemed to matter to them. They would later pull their kids out of our bedroom one night when they slept over because my brothers and I were talking to them, distracting them from their sleep.
Before that happened, I was told the news that would keep me up all night for much of my pre-pubescent years.
"Well, yeah, babies come from our mommies." In my innocent ten-year-old tone.
"Yeah, but do you know how they come from our mommies?" My instigating cousin said with a hiss to his voice. "No, not really," I said.
He would go on in heavy detail about the birds and the bees. Only in his version his birds and bees came with vaginas and penises. I would worry all night for years about having sex to make babies. I remember thinking, "Maybe my wife will just come home pregnant one day."
I tried to convince Mimie that the problem wasn't our inability to have kids. My father made four babies with my mom in six years. They married right out of high school. My mom was eighteen years old. And my dad, twenty-one. Their marriage would last all of seven years until breaking up the family. I never knew I had to be so young.
This must be the need that feeds my yearning for a family. I never made any secrets about my desire to have kids, and Mimie never questioned it.
Mimie's parents met overseas, where one of her sisters was born. When her father returned home with his new family, they had three more kids, all girls, four total. Her parents would remain together for over thirty years. Again, procreation isn't the issue. At least not biologically.
I arrive home from Walgreens after my second trip.
I park in the driveway, but my walk is less fluid than when I got home earlier in the evening. The energy has been sucked right out of me, us. Whereas earlier, there was a spring to my step, I walked with a heavy gate this time. I didn't feel light on my feet at all. I had rubber sandals on, yet they could have been led weights tied to my ankles. I sulked as I walked. I had the digital tester gripped tightly in my hand.
I opened the front door to the house, which seemed like a horror. We were putting way too much pressure on ourselves. I didn't bother to shout Mimie's name; I knew where I would find her this time. I walk through the living room and accidentally kick the plastic Walgreens bag I previously discarded in my rush to get Mimie the tester. It was resting at the foot of the hallway. The plastic handles got hung up on my sandals, and the bag followed me down the hallway, where I had once left it for dead in my earlier climactic trot.
When I entered the room, Mimie was lying in bed. She was under the covers with a book in her hand. The other pregnancy box lay on the bed beside her, looking like a casualty of a hit-and-run. The box was torn, and its wrappers were strewn about the bed. Like its insides had been ripped out.
"Okay, got it," I said, looking at Mimie as she hid behind her book.
She tilted the book down and made eye contact with me, "the digital one?" she asked.
"Yes, it looks so simple," trying to make light of our situation.
Mimie drags herself out of the bed. I extend my right hand and give her the box as she walks into the bathroom. I felt so tired. This time, I would lay in bed and wait until the final results were ready. From where I was lying, I could listen to the play-by-play of Mimie starting the test process. We've been here more than a few times.
1. I can tell the cardboard top is heavily glued on since the digital pregnancy test is pretty expensive. I can hear Mimie's struggle with the top of the box as she attempts to dig her nails into the little overlapping edge. She was unsuccessful several times before one of her nails dug deep enough to push the finger inside the container.
2. My acute hearing is aware that she could pull back the flap and rip the top open like a can.
3. My ears pick up the sound of her digging inside the box and finally obtaining her prize as if the box were a Cracker Jack snack. I can hear the tearing of the plastic bag containing the tester. The metal clanking sound is the sound of her pressing the trash can foot pedal and discarding the refuse inside the base of it. "Clank." The lid just closed.
4. I recognize the banging sound of the toilet seat lid smacking against the porcelain tank.
With the flush of the toilet, I know she's done. I get up out of bed and walk to the bathroom. She's standing in the doorway with her back to me, reading the box. I peek over her right shoulder and whisper "Boo" in her ear.
She doesn't flinch, "I heard you coming a mile away," she says, a smile breaking out on her face.
"What's the thing doing" as I look at the tester resting on the counter.
Mimie picks it up and examines it. She brings it to her eye level, which is high enough for me to see at her height of 5 feet 4 inches, so I can easily see the display.
The pregnancy tester is the same size as an average tester, only this has a grey screen installed halfway in the middle. While we wait for the results of her urine analysis, a little icon is displayed on the screen. It looks like a sundial. The black circular icon stands out in the grey background. Little digital hash marks appear to be spinning in a circular motion rapidly.
"So what did the instructions say? When will we know." I ask Mimie as we both stare at the spinning icon.
"I'm not sure. The main box says one minute. It will just tell us if we are pregnant, I suppose." Mimie's eyes are fixated on the screen.
As we both stare down at it, without our warning hesitation, the word "PREGNANT" appears.
It was like magic out of thin air. Mimie and I froze for a second. As if we were in shock. We realized it was confirmed after a second of the word soaking in. She was pregnant. We both jumped for joy.
Mimie turned her body around to face me. We embraced each other, and I gave her a kiss. We were so happy. There was success, and for a brief moment, the thought of our girls was placed on the side of our misery. Nothing was going to ruin this moment, this second in time. Not now, no way, no how. No matter what happened from this point on, we were indeed in a state of bliss.
We were lying in bed, basking in the glow of the realization that she was pregnant. We thought we'd do our best not to tell anyone because of the ordeal we went through just recently.
Playing it safe was the best option. That night, I knew Mimie was truly happy. A feeling of relief that things may be okay, that she was fertile enough to have a baby. She had hoped her nightmare was ending.
I never doubted the fact she could have kids. I felt we were just experiencing bad luck. Although I was hurting down deep for her, I always tried to make the best of things.
"Mimie," I said, "Enjoy the moment. It doesn't matter what happens. Just bask in it tonight."
That night was the last peace we would have in quite a while.
Click here for Part IV » Mimie Speaks
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