Page 55 of Not My Finest Hour

“Duh. They cry, and then you feed or change them,” she says, like she’s an expert on the topic.

I shake my head. “No thanks. That just sounds like a bad idea.”

“Suit yourself,” she says with a shrug. “I do think you need this one though.” She pulls out an informational pregnancy book that gives week-by-week descriptions of everything that’s going to happen during my pregnancy.

I take the book from her and start flipping through it. “Look, according to this, my baby is now ten millimeters long, if I have my weeks correct.” I read on, completely fascinated by what’s happening in my body.

“That’s amazing. Put that book on the pile. We’re definitely buying it.”

“I thought I’d find you girls back in this section,” a familiar voice says from the end of the aisle. I turn and see Mom’s beaming smile staring back at me. I rush over to give her a hug. She squeezes me tightly, rubbing her hand up and down my back in a soothing way. It’s like I’m five years old again, and I’m coming to her for comfort after I’ve skinned my knee.

“How did you know we were going to be here?” I ask.

“Your sister called me while you were taking a shower. She told me what had happened, and she filled me in on your plan for the day. You don’t mind me crashing your outing, do you?”

“Not at all,” I say.

Mom holds my gaze. “Whenever you want to talk, I’m here for you. If you can’t stop by, I’m just a phone call away. Don’t forget that, okay?”

“Thanks. Fern has been a great sounding board,” I say, looking over at my sister. “But I could always use some motherly advice.”

“There’s a baby store within walking distance from here,” Mom says. “I’ll go pay for these books and then we can head over there.”

“It’s a little early for that kind of shopping, don’t you think?” Fern asks. “She’s not that far along.”

Mom throws her a half-hearted glare. “It’s never too early for baby shopping. Don’t you dare deny me my right as a future grandparent. Besides, we’re just looking. No one said I was going to buy anything—yet.”

Fern holds her hands up in a mock surrender. “Okay. Point taken. Go ahead and look all you want.”

Fern and I carry the stack of books to the counter and Mom pays for them. These books are too heavy to lug around all afternoon, so we drop them off in Fern’s car, then walk to the baby store in the neighboring shopping complex. This shopping district is full of a bunch of high-end stores, and this baby boutique is no exception. The first thing that catches my eye isn’t the cute décor and color-coordinated furnishings, it’s the high prices.

“Two thousand dollars for a crib?” I ask, staring at the price tag in disbelief. “How does anyone afford to have a baby?”

“It doesn’t have to be that expensive,” Mom says. “I’m pretty sure I got you girls’ crib secondhand for twenty-five dollars.”

“You hear that, Dahlia? Mom didn’t care enough about us to buy a new crib. The thing was probably held together with duct tape and string,” Fern says with a chuckle.

Mom rolls her eyes. “You know that’s not true. I bought it from a neighbor down the street, so it’s not like I got it from just anywhere. And there’s nothing wrong with buying used baby items. They grow so fast anyway, so why spend the money if you don’t need to?”

As we walk the perimeter of the store, I say, “I don’t think I’m going to be getting any of my baby items from here. Even the clothes are expensive.” One outfit is fifty dollars, and that’s on sale from seventy. I wouldn’t spend seventy dollars on a shirt for myself that I’d get many years out of, so I’m sure as heck not going to spend it on my child when they’d only wear it for maybe a month.

Mom senses my mood shift and places her hand on my shoulder. “Don’t be discouraged. You can find cute baby items at much cheaper places, and you’ll have a baby shower too, so you’ll get a lot of what you need from there.”

“I just don’t know how I’m going to be able to afford any of it,” I say.

“Things will work out. I know they will. Come on,” Mom says, nodding toward the door. “Let’s get out of here and go get some lunch.”

Over some sandwiches and chips from a nearby deli, Mom finally gets to the real reason she came out today.

“So tell me what happened with Justin,” Mom says, not bothering to beat around the bush. “Fern told me a little bit, but I want to hear it from you.”

It’s still early in the afternoon, so luckily, there aren’t many patrons to hear my relationship woes. Fern is the only other person in here within earshot, and she’s already heard everything. “He met my friends last night, and it didn’t go well. They were shocked by him being an ob-gyn, which is my fault because I should’ve told them in advance. He brought it up in the car and said that if I’m embarrassed by his profession, then it’s best we find out now before things get too far. That’s when I lashed out and told him that our baby needs someone who’s going to be there and not someone who’s going to cancel all the time.”

“And you don’t think he’s going to be there?” Mom asks, genuinely concerned.

“I think he’ll be there when the baby comes. I just wish we were able to spend more time together now,” I say.

“What kind of advice did you give?” she asks Fern, who is sitting right next to me in this booth.

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