Story
by Stephanie Reese Masson
Baby Dreams
I saw the baby in my dreams last night, a broad, fat-faced infant
with a head full of short, dark hair. But, like most dreams,
the details weren't quite right. The baby was too big to be a
newborn, his face too full and his eyes too wide open and bright.
I only caught a quick glimpse, too fast
to see eye color or his outfit.
These baby dreams come often now as the
due date creeps closer. Sometimes I dream the baby is born too
soon, other times that my mother is hugely pregnant, or even
that I feel the baby coming, though the baby is not mine. It
is my brother's child, the soon-to-be first grandchild, a child
I hope can bring my brother back into the family fold.
Though I'm five years older, it seems fitting
that this baby is coming to my brother and not me. A baby was
never part of my wish list. In junior high and again in high
school, we wrote 10-year wish lists. A husband, a nice home,
a good job were always on my list, but never a child or children,
even back then. My goals never changed much. I checked most of
them off one by one, but never went back and added children to
the list.
My mother, however, was feeling her grandma
clock ticking. Not in the way some might think, she knew I didn't
long for a child, but in the last several years she began pointing
out pictures on TV of orphans and foster children who needed
good homes. She wondered why those parents with the ill-behaved,
shabbily dressed children in Wal-Mart had kid after kid, while
"decent" young people she knew couldn't find a baby
to adopt. It was as if by showing me ways around some of the
hardships of pregnancy she was hoping I'd warm to the idea of
an instant child.
Then my brother got married. His young
wife got pregnant, on their honeymoon no less. My mother cried
when she found out. My father left the room. I got my feelings
hurt because I was one of the last to know, after all my brother's
friends, and friends of friends. My mom finally clued me in.
I didn't talk to my brother until I mustered up my courage to
call and congratulate him.
My brother had drifted away during high
school and by college he was distant. Friends trumped family
every time. By our 20's, I rarely saw him and we barely spoke.
We were more like casual acquaintances than brother and sister.
His holidays were spent with friends or
girlfriends in exotic locations like the Bahamas, Cozumel, or
Aspen, while I stayed at home and celebrated with my husband
and parents.
When I learned of the pregnancy, I was
crushed at first. My part in my brother's life was insignificant,
at best. This might take him further away. I also thought the
baby would pull my mother from me, taking away my best friend.
But as the months passed, my thoughts turned
in a new direction. My dread turned to curiosity, and then a
tentative hope. This sudden pregnancy showed promise of changing
his course. I saw my way in. I wanted to see this baby and spend
time with it, if I could get close.
A job switch from stressed out newspaper
editor to more laid back college instructor gave me the opportunity
to connect with him and his wife at times when they weren't in
the Turks and Cacaos or visiting friends in Washington and New
York. As her pregnancy advanced, they began to travel less as
morning sickness and then frequent doctor's appointments interfered.
My first breakthrough came when I invited
myself, sort of, to the second ultrasound appointment.
"Tara's going for an ultrasound on
Friday," my mom said excitedly. "They think they'll
find out if it's a boy or a girl. They even asked me if I wanted
to go. I couldn't believe it, so of course I said 'Yes.'"
"I wouldn't mind seeing that,"
I replied. "Why don't you let them know that I have Fridays
off now and I'd like to see the baby, too, if they can fit everyone
in the room."
Mom didn't waste any time and quickly called
me back.
"Tara acted like she didn't mind at
all if you come. The appointment is for 3 p.m. on Dec. 22. Why
don't you just meet us there," she said.
When I reached the waiting area it was
debatable who looked more pregnant, my still flat-stomached,
trendy, 23-year-old sister-in-law in her size 2 jeans or me,
a size 6 with a small potbelly that I dressed to hide.
We were soon called back to the exam room.
The alien-looking thing inside my sister-in-law was a long-legged
boy. He moved, then sank to the bottom of his fluid-filled world
and my interest grew. I'd never been this close to the behind-the-scenes
type stuff with my other nieces and nephews on my husband's side.
After all, they weren't my flesh and blood. They weren't my brother's
child, my parent's grandchild.
Now in the eighth month, my dreams are
coming closer together and I'm excited while I'm awake. I just
came back from my best visit with my brother since….since
I can't remember. He planted peppers in pots on his back deck
in the early spring air as his now round-stomached wife slept
on the couch. I sat on the back steps while the dog danced around
us. No one hurried, no one intruded, the phone didn't ring, we
were alone. We ate leftover pizza and doggie bag steak and green
beans, not sushi, or salmon, or goat cheese panini. When his
wife woke, we talked about how she felt, and baby supplies, and
the high cost of diapers. My brother seemed genuine and himself
again.
I wonder if I'll see the baby again in
a dream before I see him in person.
I'm waiting for the phone to ring. Nothing
will keep me away from the hospital. I want to see my mother's
joy and my brother's face and share in it all as we see if the
alien being, this hope for the future, is a replica of us.
Stephanie Reese Masson ©
2009
Stephanie Masson lives in
Natchitoches, La., with her husband, William. After 14 years
as news editor at a small newspaper, she began her second career
as an English instructor at Northwestern State University in
2007. She enjoys spending time with her 8-month-old nephew, Greyden,
who is much loved.
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