Where the Stars Fall

36 | Infinity ∞

HOLD THE BABY? Sure. I  can do that. Check.

Prepare bottles? Check.

Feed and burp the little guy? No problem. Check.

Ready for the wild ride? Huh...

"How much longer are you going to stand there and say nothing?" Olivia asks, her eyes fixed on mine, looking for some reaction, nervous fingers fidgeting with her scarf again.

But I keep staring at the pregnancy ultrasound photo she's given me, half overwhelmed, half in shock, trying to put together the many thoughts spinning around in my head.

Change nappies? Sure, I'm a pro by now. Check.

Install baby seat in the car? Easy. Check.

"Brian? Please..." A warm hand touches my face.

I should have taken her into my arms already and let her know I wouldn't want anyone else to be the mother of my child, but I haven't yet. I'm frozen. After these past three weeks my nervous system was already on the fritz – and now this?

Just give me another ten seconds.

Until it all sinks in.

Or I collapse and begin to cry.

For some reason, I can't bring myself to look at her. I suspect she'll come up with some emancipation theory and then wants me to have little to no involvement in it all, and the idea is simply daunting.

"Sorry. It's just that you caught me completely by surprise and... and nothing. Of course, I'm ready for this, Olivia."

She steps back and looks sternly at me. "But you feel stuck now. It feels like a burden, doesn't it? And if you had the choice, we wouldn't go forward with it?"

I take one step forward. "And you say that because?"

"Because look at you! You look like this is some sort of karmic punishment or something. The universe has just screwed you up and now you don't know what to do."

"What? No!" I pull her to me, leaving a long kiss on the top of her head. "Of course, I'm ready to sign up for this. As ready as I can possibly be. I mean, I don't think anyone is ever actually ready, but the idea of nappies, bottles, your hormones going ballistic 24/7 and being thrown into a huge galactic loop doesn't send me into a dreadful cold sweat!

"I'm ready to be there, at your side, to listen and help. Because you're tired, your feet are swollen, your nipples are sore. The bloody stretch marks don't go away, your old shape doesn't come back, I don't know. Apparently, the list can be quite long, just ask my sister. All I know is I'm willing to do my best, so I guess that makes me kind of ready.

"And if you don't shut me out, I'm ready to be part of it all, to be there at the birth and take care of you when you come home. You'll probably think your life is over, that I'm the ultimate jerk and you're a bad mother, and all you want is to cry. And it's okay, I'll look after both of you and it'll pass.

"And I'll learn to walk straight at three in the morning. Or I won't. But I'll still stumble to the crib because he's crying, and I'll walk him until he falls back to sleep. Or I do. And when half of my sanity is already gone, I'll check on him too, in the middle of the night, several times, not because he's crying, but just to check if he's breathing...

"I'm ready to be awake for a month straight and just doze standing or sitting up and go fully mental in the process – like everyone else does.

"But that's not all bad news; apparently, they mostly seem to survive. And we will probably fight sometimes, mostly out of exhaustion, but we'll also make it work because the little fella is ours and he was made with love.