Page 91 of Unexpecting

A Young Woman’s Guide to the Joy of Impending Motherhood

Dr. Francine Pascal Reid (1941)

Ihad my secondultrasound when I was twenty weeks along. It was not nearly as eventful as the first one. J.B. was really taking these appointments seriously and told me he’d pick me up from school. As I waited outside the school in the warm October sun, I suddenly wondered how that was going to happen. There was no way I should be riding on his motorcycle. That just screamed irresponsible mother, and if you considered how I got pregnant, I was sure I’d have enough to do to get rid of that moniker. A shiny black Pathfinder pulled up beside me.

″Hey,” J.B. said as he lowered the window. He had a huge grin on his face. “Get in.”

″Whose car is this?” I marveled as I settled in the passenger seat. It was brand-new since it still had that new-car smell. I ran my hands across the dashboard and the dark leather seats.

″Mine,” J.B. said as he pulled out of the school driveway.

″Yours? But—did you sell your bike?” J.B.’s motorcycle is his favourite toy. He thinks he’s so cool when he’s riding it—okay, he is pretty cool when he’s riding it.

J.B. just gave me a look. “Don’t be dumb. I sold the car.” J.B.’s second favourite toy was his car—a shiny blue two-seater Lexus that he drove when inclement weather forced him to keep his bike at home.

″You sold your car?” I asked quietly.

″I thought it was time I got something bigger,” was all he said.

Whoa. This was big—and not just the SUV. This was huge. This was—my eyes actually welled up when I realized this was one of J.B.’s ways of proving to me that he was up for taking responsibility for our babies.

He looked over with a quizzical glance. “What’s wrong?”

″You sold your car for the babies,” I told him, sniffling a bit.

″It’s not that big a deal. It was just a car.”

″It was your car.”

″Yeah, and these are my babies. Sort of. Yours and mine. Besides,” he said with a smile of embarrassment, “you think I want you driving around with the babies in that tin boat you call a car? You can fit three car seats in the back. Now you don’t need a minivan.”

″You remember I hate minivans!” Now the tears were starting to flow.

″Hey, hey, it’s okay. Are you going to be okay, or is this some sort of hormonal thing?” Now he looked nervous, and I smiled through the tears.

″Hormonal probably.” There was no way I was going to admit I was bawling because he sold his car. Because it was something like a husband would do, or at least a person in a committed relationship, expecting a child with the woman he loved. But since it was J.B. we were talking about and he was not in any sort of committed relationship, it was probably just hormones making me cry. “Get used to it.”

″Great.”

I was surprised at how light my heartfelt as we sat together waiting for my name to be called for the ultrasound. For the first time, it really felt like we were in this together. At the last ultrasound and the doctor’s visit, J.B. was there with me, but still separate. Before today, I had always considered myself a single mother planning on raising triplets on my own with the help and support of friends. I always included J.B. as one of the friends. But now—now I was a woman preparing to raise my babies with the help and support of the father. And our friends. It was like we stepped into this new level of togetherness.

Considering how only two months ago, J.B. was dead set against being a father, he’d come a long way. I thought he was really okay with it—betterthan I was some days. There was no hesitation nor visible fear, other than what was to be expected. It was like once he found out—and after he was a dick about everything, but luckily that didn’t take too long—he got his head set on straight and jumped right in. If he was not quite ready to be a father yet, I knew he would be when these babies were finished cooking.

″So you really want to find out what I’m—we’re—having?” I asked, stumbling a little over the word we’re. I hadn’t drunk as much water as last time, but I was still finding it difficult to sit still while we waited. Compared to fidgety me, J.B. was calm and cool, leafing through a magazine like he didn’t have a care in the world.

″Since we’re here, why not? The doc seems to think we might be able to have a good look.”

″I’m not sure if I want to know,” I admitted.

″You don’t?” J.B. asked with surprise. “I figured you’d be dying to find out.”

″I don’t know,” I shrugged. “I might like the surprise.”

″Isn’t having three babies enough of a surprise?” he asked wryly.

″Yeah, maybe,” I smiled. “It would help pick out names, though. What do you think about Kaitlin?”

″Aren’t there a lot of Kaitlins out there?” J.B. put down his magazine. “I think I dated a couple.”

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