First Comes Love: A Chronicles of Moxie Novel Read online

  “We still have a while to go. We’re having twins.”

  “Oh gracious. You have two to push out!”

  I covered Moxie’s mouth with a kiss because I knew she was getting ready to tell this woman to shove her husband’s cane up her ass. We got lucky and the elevator dinged for our floor. I took Moxie’s hand and led her out of the elevator.

  But before it closed, Moxie snuck the last words to the couple. “Old people die here every day. Are you next?”

  I laughed a little, still dragging Moxie by the hand to find the correct room we were supposed to be. Once we found it, we opened the door. There were four other couples already sitting on the floor. It looked as if the women were in different stages of pregnancy. Moxie and I found a place next to a couple who looked pretty young. I helped Moxie lower herself down on the floor before I sat down next to her.

  The guy sitting next to me gave me a manly head tip. “Hey, man. I’m Robby and his is my girl, Suzy”

  “Hey, I’m Miles and this is my fiancée, Moxie.” Moxie and Suzy gave each other a slight wave.

  “Is this your first kid?” Robby asked.

  “We have another son who’s seven.” When I said this, Moxie looked at me with mixed emotions. She needed to come to terms that Dillion was her son as much as he was mine. I hadn’t told her yet, but Dillion asked me the other day if he could start calling Moxie mom. I told him that it was something he was going to have to talk to her about. I knew Moxie loved Dillion with all of her heart. But there was a piece of me that didn’t want to tarnish Dillion’s memories of Sarah.

  “How about you? Do you have any other kids?” I asked Robby in return.

  “I have five other kids. But this is my first one with Suzy.”

  My eyes widened. Robby looked like a kid himself. I couldn’t help but ask. “How old are you guys?”

  “I’m twenty-one and Suzy is nineteen. We met at Chick-fil-A when I was working the night shift. I saw her ass and knew she was the one for me.”

  “Oh, Robby. Stop talking sweet.” Suzy squeezed Robby’s arm and then she turned to me. “His other baby mamas are such whores who only want Robby for his money.”

  I was in too much shock to respond.

  But Moxie wasn’t. “I can only imagine. Chick-fil-A must bring in the big bucks.”

  A plump woman with short brown hair and glasses came into the room just before I was about to ask Robby if he knew what condoms were.

  “Hi, everyone! My name is Heather. We are going to get started for the evening. We have many things planned for you including breathing techniques, how to handle a baby, a birthing video, and a lactation consult to talk about breastfeeding. So let’s begin!”

  We learned some different breathing techniques to use during labor. Moxie lay between my legs and I rubbed her shoulders, coaching her along the way. I couldn’t help but nuzzle my nose into her hair and breathe in that amazing shampoo she used.

  “Are you getting hard?” she whispered, turning her head to look at me.

  “I can’t help it, you’re sitting between my legs, I’m rubbing your shoulders, and smelling your hair.”

  “You get hard smelling my hair? Do you have some hair fetish now?”

  “I like the way your shampoo smells. Sometimes I use it as lube and jerk off in the shower.”

  “What!” Moxie screamed, making everyone in the room look at her.

  “Sorry, everyone. She thought I said two breaths out instead of one. She suffers from OCD,” I said, trying to make an excuse for Moxie’s outburst.

  “I was wondering why my shampoo was disappearing. I thought it was pregnancy brain, and I was using more than I thought. I’m never going to look at Herbal Essences the same way,” she whispered.

  After breathing exercises, we moved to another exercise using fake babies. I let Moxie take the lead on this one since I’d had plenty of practice in the past with Dillion. I didn’t think Moxie had changed a diaper in her entire life. Granted, when she taught kindergarten last year, she claimed that half of her kids still needed to be in diapers because they seemed to miss the toilet.

  “Everyone, in front of you is your baby already wearing their diaper.”

  Moxie raised her hand.

  “Yes, dear?” Heather asked.

  “What kind of diapers are we talking about? Huggies? Luvs? Costco? Do we use cloth diapers? I’m not really keen on throwing my kids crap in the toilet every time they poop. And since we’re on the subject, let’s talk diaper wipes. Are you thinking sensitive or non-sensitive? Will the scented kind irritate their ass? I also read that different diapers are better for boys than girls. We’re having twins. Are you telling me we have to buy two different brands?

  Heather’s eye started to twitch at all of Moxie’s questions. I quietly snickered to myself.

  “I would say that it’s all trial and error. What might work for one baby might not work for another. You might have a baby with sensitive skin or a child that wets the diaper more in front than back,” Heather said.

  “My kids would just probably wet the whole damn diaper. Maybe I should put two diapers on them,” Moxie said, rubbing her chin with her fingers.

  Heather shook her head and continued with her demonstration. “Now, each of you open your baby’s diaper by tearing the tabs on the sides.”

  Moxie gingerly opened the diaper and pulled it away from the doll.

  “Oh my God!” she yelled as she jumped back from the doll. “My doll shit in its diaper!”

  I leaned over her shoulder to see what she was looking at and laughed. In the diaper was a smashed Snickers bar to simulate real poop.

  “Why? Why would you subject a Snickers bar to such a horrible death? What did it ever do to you?”

  “Moxie, we put the Snickers bar in for several reasons,” Heather tried to explain. “First we want to show the proper way of cleaning a baby’s bum. Secondly, we want to discuss what abnormalities you might find in your child’s feces and what you should do.”

  Moxie immediately raised her hand again.

  “Yes, Moxie,” Heather said with a groan.

  “Why would my baby have peanuts in their poop?”

  “Because maybe it accidently found a bag and swallowed some,” Heather said, grabbing the diaper and throwing it in the trash can.

  As the class went on, Heather showed us how to swaddle the baby in a blanket. Moxie got so frustrated because she couldn’t get the technique down, so she stomped out of the class, mumbling something about it being bullshit and how it’s all a conspiracy.

  After coaxing her back, the thing that further tipped the scales was the birthing video. It was like sitting with someone during a horror movie. Moxie covered her eyes for most of the video, peeking through her fingers on occasion and burying her head into my shoulder.

  Finally the lactation consultant came in to do her presentation on breastfeeding. The way that I look at, I felt it was a woman’s choice if she decided to breastfeed. It wasn’t my breasts that got sucked on hours on end throughout the day. Although, any extra chance I got to see a woman’s breast was always an extra bonus. Sarah breastfed Dillion until he turned one, but that was her choice. She felt it was the best option for him and that it was a way for them to bond. Moxie and I hadn’t had the conversation about breastfeeding, so I was curious what she thought.

  “Hello, everyone. My name is Angela and I am the lactation consultation for the hospital. I am the one that comes into your room after you have your baby to help you get started on your journey to breastfeeding.”

  Moxie tensed up. This wasn’t a good sign as her body usually tensed before an emotionally explosion. I rubbed her back in hopes of calming her down. Angela brought out a contraption from her tote that looked like a fake pair of breast connected to a harness. She proceeded to put the harness over her own chest to make it look like she was naked from the waist up. The sight was disturbing. It reminded me of a freak show at a circus. The worse part came next as she brought out a b
aby doll that had a puckered mouth.

  “It’s important to get to know the signs when your baby is ready to eat. When they are first born, they make a motion with their mouth as if they were sucking. This is called rooting, and it’s a sign that they’re searching for your nipple.”

  Next to me Robby imitated a rooting face to Suzy.

  “I’m in search of your nipple, babe. Why don’t you whip it out for me.”

  “Ahem.” Angela gave Robby a scolding look and Robby bowed his head down in shame.

  Angela continued her instruction, discussing latching , the comfort zone for nipple placement, and what to do if you get sores on the breast from nursing. Toward the end I was feeling a little nauseated when she told us a story about a woman suffering from mastitis but still very determined to breastfeed her child. Moxie still looked wound up.

  When she raised her hand, I had to admit, I was feeling a little nervous not knowing what she was going to ask.

  “Yes, Moxie?”

  “I don’t plan on breastfeeding. I want to leave the privilege of sucking my nipples to my fiancé. In fact, it’s a huge turn on for me when he does it and I would like to keep it that way. Plus, I have big knockers to begin with, and I don’t want these puppies sinking to the floor because they were used as a feeding trough for my kids.”

  Oh shit. Angela looked at Moxie like someone just ran over her dog.

  “Moxie, breast is best when it comes to the nourishment of your child. There is an abundant amount of research that proves that breast milk is the best way to protect your child from illness and for healthy brain development,” Angela said, trying to sound professional. Honestly, she looked like she was about to lose her shit.

  “So you’re telling me I’m going to have sick, stupid children because I won’t share my boobs with them?”

  “Sweetness, I think she’s just trying to do her job,” I said, taking her hand and tenderly squeezing it.

  “Look, buddy.” Moxie pointed at my chest with her free hand. “I’m trying to protect your playthings and Tit Hitler here is trying to tell me we’re are going to have dysfunctional children because I won’t give it up for them. It’s our job as parents to make them dysfunctional, not my rack!”

  “You tell ’em, sista,” Robby added.

  I couldn’t contain my laughter because Moxie was being, well, Moxie. My little spitfire was just speaking her truth. I took hold of her elbow and helped her out of the chair.

  “I think it’s time to excuse ourselves. Thank you for the information and good luck to everyone here,” I said, leading Moxie to the door. But before we could make it all the way out, Moxie had to get the last word in to Angela.

  “I hope your fake boobs sag to the ground and your plastic baby has to sit on the floor to eat!”

  The Pregnancy Guide

  Months 7 and 8

  Women

  Congratulations, you’ve made it to the last trimester of your pregnancy. During this time a lot of women start to nest, making sure the nursery is ready and all the clothes are bought. You will also feel your little boy or girl kick more. Maybe they’re going to be little soccer players! You might feel a little warm as your hormones continue to change. Remember that fatigue you felt during that start of your pregnancy? It will become more prominent, so don’t feel bad taking naps so your body can recharge. You also may feel the need to urinate more, so make sure you always know where a bathroom is in case you have to relive yourself.

  Men

  This is it! This is the time you’re going to be able to have sex with your partner again. That’s if she can stay awake long enough to have sex. Don’t give up hope, you might be able to sneak something between bathroom breaks. Also invest in a hat, gloves, and a thermal jacket. Your partner will want the air conditioner on at full blast, even if it’s the dead of winter. At this point you’ll be pretty sure your partner is having an alien. Her stomach will move and roll on its own accord. Just remember, they come in peace.

  I woke up and reevaluated my surroundings. I was in a bed under a down comforter that was making me sweat, but a pair of cold feet rubbed up my leg. Cold feet next to mine. I knew those cold feet and they didn’t belong to Miles.

  “How they hell does Raj put up with those ice cubes you call feet?” I asked Renee in my sleepy haze.

  She was already sitting up in bed, drinking a cup of coffee. She smiled down at me like she’d just won the lottery.

  “It’s your wedding day!”

  Renee insisted staying with me last night instead of Miles, reminding us that the groom wasn’t allowed to see the bride before the wedding. I then reminded Renee that I was very pregnant and the whole virtuous bride idea flew out the window the second the stick turned pink.

  I lay in bed, thinking about Miles and how today we would officially be married. It was then that Mortimer and Can-d-Cane decided to kick me under my ribs. Miles and I still hadn’t settled on names, so I came up with something different every day.

  “Jesus Christ, I’m getting up, you two,” I said to my stomach.

  “Aww. Are they kicking?” Renee asked in a goochie, goochie, goo voice.

  I scowled. “Talk to me in that voice again and I will demonstrate how hard they’re kicking me in your ass.”

  “Come on, we need to start getting ready. The makeup artist and hair person will be here in twenty minutes. I got you some decaf and pastries we can munch on while we get ready.”

  “I was going to profess my undying love to you, but then you said it was decaf coffee.” I groaned.

  “No caffeine for you until those babies are out.”

  In a huff, I got out of bed and put the robe on, tying it around my very swollen belly. I waddled over to the table in the room and grabbed a Danish out of the pastry basket. “So where are the dresses?” I asked, with a mouth full of Danish.

  “Martha had them steamed and pressed. She said they would send them up when they were done. Are you feeling excited? Nervous? Anxious? All of the above?”

  “I feel weird. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t have any doubts about marrying Miles, but this isn’t how I pictured things would go. I had a different vision in my head about my wedding. But with Dad being terminally ill, I wanted to give him the wedding he wanted to give his daughter before he died.” My heart sunk as the words came from my mouth.

  Renee took in a deep breath. “Moxie, I understand you wanted to do this for your dad. But why didn’t you ever talk to him about this and tell him what you really wanted? It is your wedding after all.”

  “Martha said he didn’t want me to know about the cancer, that it would crush him. He didn’t want me to worry about him and put stress on me and the babies. I mean it’s just one day out of our lives. The important thing is that I’m with Miles, Dillion, and the babies. If it makes him happy that his daughter has a fairy-tale wedding, I can do that.”

  Renee gave me a half smile, knowing perfectly well this wasn’t my dream, but my dad’s. She put one hand on my shoulder. “You’re a good woman, Moxie Summers. And you’re right. It isn’t about flowers or the cake, but spending your life with the person you love.”

  “What the fuck do you mean it’s not about the cake? That cake dictates how my life with Miles will be. It must be chocolate or all hell will break loose and we will be divorced within a month,” I said, moving to get another Danish.

  We both laughed when there was a knock at the door. Renee opened the door to a hotel employee holding two very large garment bags.

  “I was asked to bring these up for Miss Summers,” the employee said, straining to keep the garment bags from falling off his fingers.”

  “I’ll take those, thanks.” Renee took the bags and closed the door with her foot.

  “Holy crap, these are heavy for two tea length dresses.” She patted the bag with her free hand. “And what the hell did they put in here? Tissue paper?”

  I walked over to the bags. “Let’s hang them in the closet and take a look. We opened the fi
rst bag and stumbled back in complete shock when we saw a plum colored floor length satin dress and matching shawl.

  “What the fuck is this?” I quickly moved the dress away and pulled the zipper on the second garment bag. “Oh my fucking Lord, “I said in a whisper.

  Renee moved to my side and saw the horror. It was the white marshmallow dress that I tried on at the boutique. The tulle came pouring out of the bag onto the floor. Rhinestones and beadwork flickered with the light coming in from the window. To top it off, a long veil with a large crown hung from the hanger. About two minutes passed before either of us could say anything. We just stood there, looking at the dress in utter horror.

  “There has to be a mix up,” Renee finally said.

  “Get. My. Phone,” I replied through gritted teeth.

  Renee rushed over to my bag and dug my phone out for me. I found the number I needed. It only took one ring before she answered.

  “Good morning, beautiful bride. Are you ready to wed your prince charming?”

  “Martha, there is a problem with the dress.” I tried to remaining as composed as possible.

  “Oh God! Did they press the tulle down to much? I told them it was supposed to be flowing, like you’d be on a cloud.”

  “This isn’t the dressed I picked out.” I clutched the fabric of the dress, still trying to keep calm.

  “I know, dear, but I showed your father all the pictures we took of you in the dresses and he just instantly fell in love with this one. He even had tears in his eyes.” Martha’s voice cracked,

  “Martha, I’m going to look like the fucking Stay Puft Marshmallow Man.”

  “Moxie, watch your language. The dress is stunning on you and it’s what your father dreamed of you in. Put aside your selfishness for one second and remember he is paying for this wedding. He wants to see his daughter walk down the aisle in a beautiful dress.”