Page 33 of Better Than Baby

“Aaron…”

“I know, I know.” He pulled away with a frustrated sigh. “But we did a Lamaze class. Remember? It was so fun, and Cassie was adorable. It’s a sweet memory that went sour.”

“Not gonna happen this time,” I assured him again.

He glanced at the wide array of baby paraphernalia on display and nodded. “I want everything to be perfect, and life doesn’t work like that.”

“No, it doesn’t. But slips and slides along the way sometimes lead us where we didn’t know we were supposed to be. I mean…what are the chances of us meeting at a gay club on a dance floor in the dark all those years ago? And what are the chances that you’d want anything to do with a closeted bi dude? Yet here we are.” I brushed his hair from his eyes and cradled his nape. “This life we’ve built is an adventure with ups and downs, but we’ve got this, Aar. Like it or not, our kid won’t be perfect and we won’t be perfect dads, and that’s okay. We’ll try our best every day and a few decades from now, we’ll be old and gray with yellow teeth and paunch bellies.”

“Ew, we’ll be well-preserved.”

“And we’ll sit on our rocking chairs and talk about our kids and grandkids, and good times, and we’ll laugh, and be grateful to have so much damn love in our lives.”

Aaron wiped at tears with a laugh. “I can’t believe I’m crying in a Stork Emporium.”

“Oops. And I don’t have a tissue. You’ll have to use your sleeve,” I joked, kissing his forehead.

“On my cashmere coat? I think not.” He smiled up at me with watery eyes. “If I haven’t mentioned this today, I love you.”

This time, I squashed him to my chest, rocking back and forth till he called uncle and shooed me away.

We chuckled, turning with hands clasped, to conquer new dad things.

twelve

Our Lamaze instructorwas a petite brunet with a French accent and a calming presence who spoke in hushed tones as she paced the classroom in the hospital annex.

“Good evening, I am Monique.Félicitationsto you all. Let us begin,oui?” She spread her arms wide and cast a beatific glance at the ten couples gathered. And yes, we were the only two dads accompanying a surrogate. However, there was a lesbian couple, which was cool.

Monique gave a mini lecture on the importance of connecting breath to the rhythm of pain. Aaron, Lena, and I shared a wide-eyed look as we settled in for our first lesson. The thirty-week mark was a good time to start Lamaze…unless, of course, it was the week before Christmas and my firm’s holiday party was the next day, and my parents were expected to arrive during the weekend. Of course, babies didn’t care about convenience, and if Lena delivered earlier than expected for some reason, we wanted to be prepared.

The doctor had assured us that Lena and the baby were progressing nicely. She’d navigated pregnancy with ease throughout her second trimester, but the baby had gotten a lotbigger over the past week or so. Apparently, sleeping was a challenge and getting kicked in the ribs was a new normal.

Aaron and I loved it. We were suckers for any and all feedback regarding our unborn child.

“He was awake all night. He might be a party animal.”

“She seems to love pasta. You might have a carb queen on your hands, Dads.”

Maybe it was weird, but we’d gotten into the habit of talking to Lena’s stomach. Aaron had read somewhere that there were significant benefits of babies hearing their parents’ voices in the womb, such as early bonding, stress reduction, and language development.

Aaron was also determined to teach our kid Spanish.

“Hola, bebé.It’sPapi.I love you,mi cariño,” he said to Lena’s stomach in between a breathing break.

Or Spanglish.

I grinned at Lena. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired,” she admitted. “The holidays are kicking my booty. We’ve been busy at the studio, which is pretty normal. But I swear I’m taking it easy at home. Did I tell you that my mom wants to move in with me next month?”

Aaron glanced up, his hand splayed over Lena’s belly. “That’s not such a bad thing, is it?”

Lena wrinkled her nose. “I suppose not. I think we’ll drive each other nuts within a week, but I might need her as we get closer to the due date. I just don’t know what to expect.”

We nodded. None of us knew what the hell we were doing. We did the research, asked friends and family for advice, but the unknown was daunting. There was a chance we were guilty of overplanning and overthinking things. For instance, the baby shower was scheduled for the week between Christmas and New Year’s in spite of being told that baby meet-and-greet parties were all the rage.

“Everyone wants to see the baby, honey,” my mom had insisted at Thanksgiving. “I really think you should postpone it till March or April.”