Choosing to SEE - Mary Beth Chapman [22]
I sat there, staring, not moving. Then the tears began to stream down my face.
“Oh, God!” I wept. “I shouldn’t be upset. This is new life!”
Then I pictured baby Caleb, all plump and happy, just five months old.
“It was so hard to get pregnant after Emily, how did this happen?” I asked God. “I mean, I know how it happened, but . . . I’m not ready!”
I was afraid, elated, mad, sad, thrilled, and confused, all in one minute in that stall at Chuck E. Cheese.
The pain of my last C-section was fresh in my mind, and I still hadn’t regained my strength after Caleb’s medical issues and surgery. Steven’s career was taking off, and that meant he was literally taking off, often away from home for long stretches of time. I knew that being pregnant was a great gift . . . but having another child so soon after Caleb was not my plan. What was God doing?
I emerged from the stall. I bolted through the ladies’ room door, making a beeline for Steven. I could see him through the chaos of small children, balloons, and games.
As soon as our eyes met, Steven knew.
As I made my way toward him, a lady came up to me. “Aren’t you Mary Beth Chapman?” she asked.
Thanks to Steven’s growing career, he was starting to be recognized in public. But this lady wasn’t connecting because of Steven.
“I think you used to work with my sister at Friendly’s Ice Cream!” she continued.
Maybe she didn’t see the tears streaming down my face.
“I’m sorry,” I babbled to her. “I just did this pregnancy test in the bathroom, and I haven’t told my husband yet, and he’s right over there, and I’m a little discombobulated right now . . .”
“Oh!” said the lady, thinking she had just gotten a little too much information. She quickly made herself invisible. I barreled toward my husband and buried my head in his chest, weeping.
Little Emily Chapman looked up at me.
“Mommy!” she said. “Why are you crying?”
“Well,” I said, trying to be an adult, “you know how there are sad tears, but there are also happy tears? Mommy just found out she’s going to have another baby!”
Emily stood there, staring at me. She jammed her hands on her hips, then burst out, “What in the world are we gonna do with another baby?”
I lost it. “I don’t know!” I wailed. “That’s why I’m crying!”
When I look back to those Chuck E. Cheese days, I can see a lot more of the picture than I could then. Back then I was just putting one foot in front of the other – what else can you do?
Now I see my life at that time like a big weather map. There were high pressure systems building, then dramatic lows that would bring in thunderstorms. There were calm periods as well. But what was brewing was a perfect storm.
Once I accepted the fact that we were having another baby, my pregnancy was fine. As God would have it, Yolanda, Sherri, and I all had the same ob-gyn, and all three of us were due on Valentine’s Day 1991. It was fun, but I’m sure the doctor thought it was also kind of weird.
We knew from an ultrasound that our new baby was a boy, and I was grateful. Since he and Caleb were going to be so close in age, it was great that they would have each other to do boy things together. I wanted to name him Levi Franklin; Steven wanted to name him Will Franklin.
The birth went well. I had a third C-section. Before they sewed me up and I went off to drug-induced la-la land, I was instructing Steven to make sure to mark the baby with a Sharpie so the hospital wouldn’t mix him up with some other baby. (Can you tell I had control issues?)
“What about his name?” Steven asked, wondering just what he should write on this child.
“Oh,” I said, loopy from drugs. “You see what name works best for him.”
Even in my drug-induced state, though, I knew what would happen. Sure enough, I woke up and my son was named Will Franklin. My choice never had a chance.
So here we were, blessed in a million ways. Three healthy children under the age of five. Steven’s growing success meant that we had been able to buy a beautiful piece of land in Franklin,