Page 68 of Slap Shot Surprise
“Did you see that?” I asked my belly, both hands cradling the new bump there. “That was your daddy! He’s a rock star!”
I sent Joe a quick text.
FUCKING AMAZING!!! I screamed so loud, I scared Cleo. Congratulations!
The avocado and I are very proud.
After I got ready for bed, I slipped between the sheets and grabbed my phone. Joe had replied to my text.
Thanks. I’m superstitious you know. Better wear that jersey all season long.
It’s a sweater.
He hearted the message, and I smiled.
Hey, would you like to come down here and go to a game sometime since you’re such a big fan now?
Are you serious? Of course!
Take a look at the schedule and see what home games you could make. Then I’ll fly you down.
I’ll drive.
I don’t like the idea of you making that drive alone.
I’ll be fine.
And by the way, you sound like a dad already.
He laughed at that one, and I went to bed with a huge smile on my face, cradling my stomach with both hands.
This was good, right? We were friends. Buddies. Pals. We were getting to know each other. Supporting each other. Learning what made the other one laugh.
And in just ten days, we’d learn whether our baby was a boy or a girl.
FOURTEEN
joe
The morningof the ultrasound appointment, I woke up in a panic. Tightness in my chest. Pulse like a jackhammer. Oxygen in short supply.
It used to happen to me all the time as a kid, especially on game days when I felt pressure to win or something big was riding on my performance. There was a scout in the audience. There was a new coach who thought I was overrated. There was a playoff victory at stake—if we didn’t get it done, we’d be eliminated. An entire team depending on me.
It all comes down to this. Don’t blow it.
The threat of failure was like a fucking predator in the room, prowling at the foot of my bed.
What if I wasn’t good enough? What if I got out there and forgot how to shoot? What if there was some new guy on the ice who made me look like a clown? What if my NHL dreams were delusional, like so many people said they were?
After a particularly bad panic attack in college, my roommate convinced me to talk to someone. I saw a therapiston campus who taught me some coping strategies, which helped.
I hadn’t had one in a long time—years, even—but I remembered what to do. Lying in bed, I forced myself to take deep, slow belly breaths. I concentrated on the sensations of things around me—the scent of fabric softener on my sheets, the sunlight just starting to peek around the shades, the warmth of my body heat beneath the comforter. As I grounded myself in the present, I felt the danger recede.
I hit a button to raise the shades, and for a few minutes, I just lay there while the morning sun warmed the room. Then I reached for my phone.
I’d gotten a text from Mabel about fifteen minutes ago.
Everything is all set. The tech was able to move the appointment back one hour so you could “be there,” and Ari will be with me to FaceTime you on my phone. You won’t miss a thing. How crazy is it that today we will know if this baby is a boy or a girl???
