The Baby is Where?
By: Jason Mcbride
Tags: Life Lessons, Humor, Memoir, Family, Parenting

The Baby is Where?

How my parents scarred me for life trying to get me excited about my new sibling

Photo by Colin Maynard on Unsplash

I don’t remember my younger sister Anji being born. She has always just been there. I’m 18 months older, and we are worlds apart. But, I have always had a little sister, just like I have always had ten fingers.

I do remember finding out we were getting another sibling.

I’m sure my parents were trying to do their best. They had probably been reading parenting books. I know Mom frequently turned to Family Circle magazine for parenting advice.

Maybe she read some articles about how to tell your children you’re about to destroy their lives by bringing yet another competitor for love and affection into the home.

All I know is that my parents scarred me for life.

Mom and Dad sat us down on the brown and red plaid couch in the family room. The sofa pattern was trendy in the 70s. But, it was now 1981, and the material was thinning on the seat cushions.

If the couch material came into direct contact with your skin, you would break out in red hives. you would find yourself compulsively scratching yourself. It was worse than the worst winter sweater. The couch was probably stuffed with asbestos.

It was impossible to sit still on the damn thing. But, that didn’t stop our parents from yelling at us about it.

“Stop squirming and listen!” was our family motto.

But, on this occasion, there was no reprimand.

Mom and Dad were grinning. Their enthusiasm was contagious. I thought we were finally going to go to the circus. I’d been begging for weeks since I first saw the ad for the Ringling Brothers and Barnum & Bailey, Circus commercial during our Saturday morning cartoons.

They were actually coming to our town. They were coming to Colorado Springs, and not far distant Denver, like every other amazing thing always did.

But, no.

Our parents told us we were going to have a baby.

Anji was not impressed. She immediately asked, “Why?”

She was three and a half, and I was five. Dad started to say something, but a penetrating stare from Mom cut short his explanation. It was the kind of stare where Mom looked at you over the top of her large, bug-eyed glasses and raised her eyebrows. Her lips disappeared, and her mouth became a straight line — as if she were some kind of muppet.

Mom redirected the conversation. “Aren’t you excited about having another brother or sister?”

Anji nodded her head up and down with intense vigor.

I wasn’t so sure.

“When will the baby get here?” I asked.

Dad fielded this one. “We don’t know for sure, but in about six months, Mom will go to the hospital, and she will have the baby.”

“The HOSPITAL! Why does she have to go to the hospital?” I stood up.

This baby thing was disturbing.

Dad smiled uncomfortably. Mom explained that the baby was growing inside of her and that when the baby was ready, Dad would take her to the hospital, and the baby would be born.

“The baby is where?” I asked.

Mom tried to explain pregnancy as best she could without mentioning anything about sex or science. This left me deeply confused.

You’re just walking around one day, and suddenly something is growing inside of you? Not only is a baby growing inside, but you have to go to the hospital to get it out?

I worried for a long time that a baby might be growing inside me.

Luckily, when Grandma visited a few months later, she explained that only mommies have babies. This left many questions unanswered — but it did mean I could stop checking my belly in the mirror.

Things began to change in our family. We got another car. Our family had been a one-car family, proud owners of a glorious midnight blue Chevrolet Nova. It was the only car I’d ever known. In my five-year-old imagination, the Nova was the Batmobile.

We all went to the dealership the day my parents bought the new car. My sister and I mostly stayed inside a building and sat in chairs just outside an office and ate every piece of candy offered to us by the passing salesmen.

We thought it was cool that there were cars inside the building. I began to wonder if when I was old enough to drive, I could get a job driving the cars in and out of the building.

We ended up getting a burgundy Buick Regal. My parents beamed with pride whenever the car was brought up in conversation. They had bought it new! It was the first brand-new car either one had ever owned.

To my parents, the Buick symbolized success, true hard-working American prosperity; it was their little slice of the American Dream. To me, the Buick wasn’t anything. I liked the Batmobile better.

Once we were a two-car family, Mom dragged Anji and me all over town looking at boring baby things after I got home from school and before Dad got home from work.

The Buick had nice soft, cloth seats and a fantastic new car smell. But it was not cool like the Nova. You couldn’t hear the engine working in the Buick like in the Nova. Your butt didn’t slide all over the seat with every stop or sudden acceleration. The Nova seemed faster too. But, now only Dad got to be in the Nova.

One winter evening, our family was driving in the Buick to some store. Dad asked us if we wanted a brother or sister. It was the first time my parents had consulted me on an important family decision.

“I don’t know,” Anji said.

Her nose was pressed up against the window, and she was puffing, trying to fog up the window so she could doodle. She couldn’t be bothered.

I felt the pressure now as I realized the future makeup of our family rested on my recommendation. Dad asked me again what I wanted, a brother or sister.

I looked over at Anji. She was trying to draw a smiley face with her nose.

“I already have a sister, so a brother, I guess.”

My parent’s laughter made the car windows pulse.

I was trying to take the decision seriously. I realized I was the only one.

Anji grew more and more excited about the baby coming. She would play dolls and have Mom show her how to hold a baby. She asked lots of questions that I had no interest in. I had bigger problems.

I was trying to survive kindergarten. I didn’t have time for baby stuff.

A few months later, Mom and Dad told us that the doctor believed we were having a girl.

Another sister.

Nobody ever listened to me.

Mom was sure the doctor was wrong and that she was having a boy. Dad wanted Mom to think he agreed with her, but he trusted the doctor.

I was with Mom. After all, I had decided I needed a brother — not another sister.

Mom was unfazed by the latest developments in medical thought and technology. She bought every piece of blue baby clothing our local Sears had in stock. Anji and I were there for every single purchase.

My only solace was that the toy aisles were right by the baby section, and I was allowed to wander. This concession from Mom had only come after much pleading, whining, and the accidental, I swear it was accidental, tipping over of a display table of carefully folded and arranged baby blankets. I thought the table was sturdy enough for me to pretend to be Superman as I lifted it from underneath.

There were three aisles of toys: A boy aisle, a girl aisle, and a baby toy aisle. I spent all my time studying the Star Wars toys. I looked at all of the action figures, but I coveted the spaceships. The X-wing fighter had wings that popped out at the press of a button! The Millennium Falcon had secret storage compartments!

I dreamed of all the fun I could have with those spaceships while Mom asked the lady behind the counter if they had any other baby boy clothes in the back.

In the middle of one April night, I woke up dying of thirst. This happened frequently. I usually went into the bathroom and took a small Dixie cup from the dispenser and got a drink.

But, this night, there were no Dixie cups. I went into my parent’s room. I tried to wake Dad, but I couldn’t rouse him. I went over to Mom and barely got out a whispered “Mom” and touched her hand before my very pregnant mother flew into the air. She was lying down on the bed one moment, and then the next she was in the same prone position, but in the middle of the air, almost floating over the bed.

She let out a yell, which woke up Dad. He sprang up just as Mom landed on the bed, ready for battle. Mom’s submission to gravity shook the headboard and caused the bed springs to squeak like startled mice.

Later that night, Dad woke me up. We were going to my friend Jared’s house. Mom and Dad were going to the hospital. I had triggered the baby’s arrival.

He asked me to go down and turn on the porch light.

I knew he was counting on me. I ran down the stairs, and my feet slid out from under me halfway down. I landed on my butt and slid down the rest of the stairs like an out of control toboggan. I crashed onto the landing at the bottom of the stairs. But, I managed to get the porch light on before everyone came to see what the hell had happened.

Dad dropped Anji and I off and then sped away with mom in the Buick to the hospital.

After lunch the next day, Dad came to pick Anji and me up. Mom had had a baby boy. His name was Jacob. Dad and the doctors were wrong. Mom’s Sears splurges were vindicated.

Dad took us to go and see Mom and our new baby brother.

Mom was in a hospital bed when we got there. After some small talk, a nurse brought in our brother. I was not impressed.

He just laid there with his eyes closed. Mom said that was normal. I thought it was boring. Anji and I both got to hold baby Jacob. She was more thrilled than I was.

Mom showed us her scar. They had cut baby Jacob out of Mom. She said it was called a “see section” I assumed it was because they needed to “see” the baby. The scar was gross. It was long and had all these dark stitches across it. The entire having-a-baby process was as bad as I had thought. How scary to have something cut out of you. I imagined a long, serrated steak knife, like the kind they use at buffets to cut into the prime rib, slicing into Mom so they could yank the baby out. I shuddered.

Dad took over at home while Mom stayed at the hospital for a week.

This was back before hospitals were anxious to kick you out of your room as soon as possible. All because they want to fill your bed with someone else like it’s some trendy downtown San Francisco Airbnb.

Dad announced one day that Mom would be coming home. We had made several trips to the hospital, and I had decided that having a baby brother wouldn’t be so bad. All he did was lay there. That evening we went to the hospital again.

Dad spread a blanket on the floor and set up a TV tray and put out two cartons of milk and two packages of Twinkies. Anji and I each got to have our own package of Twinkies, which normally would have made me happy. But, when I looked up at where Mom and Dad sat, I saw that they were eating steak and mashed potatoes.

“No fair,” I said. “We get Twinkies on the floor, and you get steak!”

I was outraged. The laughter of my parents dealt another major blow to my dignity.

“The hospital gives this special meal to moms and dads before they take their new babies home,” Dad said.

“But, we’re his brother and sister! We only get Twinkies?”

I looked to Anji for support, but she was staring at the ceiling, her mouth stuffed with a Twinkie.

“Right, Anji?” I asked.

“I don’t like steak.” She said, spewing sponge cake and cream everywhere. It was her only comment on the subject.

In a bow to my demands, Dad did go out to the vending machine in the hall and bring me back a candy bar. He complained to Mom over his shoulder as he handed me the peace offering, “Most kids would be thrilled with a Twinkie dinner.”

Mom chuckled. I glowered and unwrapped my candy bar.

Little did I know just how much more unfair life was about to get now that I had another sibling.