“It wasn’t just me. Chrys helped a lot. And Kandi came through with the invitations.”
I reached for her hand. “Baby, this means everything.”
“My whole life, you’ve put me first, Mom,” she said, squeezing my fingers. “You sacrificed so much just for me.” She pressed her other hand on my arm. “It’s time somebody put you first instead.”
My eyes started burning with tears. All those years of struggling as a single mom, trying to build something good for us... The fact that my baby girl saw that and appreciated it made every sleepless night worthwhile.
I let Tia pull me toward the center of the room where everyone was gathering. Women I hadn’t seen in months wrapped me in hugs, their voices overlapping with congratulations. I blinked back what was left of my tears and let myself be folded into all of it.
Once the hugs and belly rubs died down, Mama Nettie rose from her chair, and the room went quiet. “Before we eat,” she said, her voice carrying, “let us bow our heads.”
Everyone reached for the hand nearest to them. Tia slipped hers into mine. On my other side, Aris’s fingers laced through my own.
“Lord, we thank You for bringing us together tonight. We thank You for our Dee and these two blessings she’s carrying. You’ve brought this child through more than most folks could bear, and You’re still not done with her yet. Keep her strong, keep her well, and let every woman in this room be a hedge of protection around her and those babies. In Jesus’ name.”
“Amen,” the room echoed.
Then the food came out, and I nearly lost it. Coconut curry shrimp, jerk chicken over rice, plantains fried golden, collard greens with smoked turkey, and cornbread that smelled like somebody’s grandmother made it from scratch.
I loaded my plate without a shred of shame. I was eating for three, and nobody in this room was going to judge me for it.
Kandi sat down across from me with her own plate piled high. “Girl, slow down before those babies come out seasoned.”
“They better,” I said with my mouth half full, and she cackled.
Once plates were cleared, Kandi clapped her hands and announced it was time for games. Older R&B started playing in the background as she started with “Guess the Baby Food” that had everyone gagging and laughing. Then came “Don’t Say Baby”—each person got a clothespin, and if you caught someone saying “baby,” you got to take theirs. Mama Nettie was ruthless, collecting clothespins like trophies.
By the time we got to the diaper relay race, Aris got involved. He won easily. Santo’s backwards diaper had the whole room howling. I laughed so hard my belly ached.
After an hour of nonstop games, chatter, and well-meaning advice from every direction, I needed a break. I found a quiet corner to catch my breath, and that’s where Mama Nettie tracked me down. She eased into the chair beside me with a sigh, fussing about her “old bones” before fixing those sharp eyes on me.
“So Tia daddy-in-law the one who got you pregnant with them twins?”
“Yeah.” I took a breath and told her how we met in Greece, the summer we spent together, how things ended, and then finding out about the pregnancy despite my tubes being tied.
Mama Nettie let out a laugh that started deep in her belly. “Let me see if I got this straight. You go to Greece—where I told you not to go in the first place—and the first man you meet turn out to be your future son-in-law daddy. Then y’all break up, and this man’s sperm somehow untie them tubes the doctor said was tied for good, and now you pregnant with not one but two babies?”
She shook her head, still chuckling. “Chile, you can’t make this mess up.”
I looked down at my belly, then back at her. “God’s got a sense of humor, and apparently I’m the punchline.” My gaze drifted across the room until it found Aris, who was watching me. “I’m scared out my mind, but happy.”
Mama Nettie patted my hand. “You’ll be alright, sugar. You raised one good child already. You’ll do just fine with two more.”
She’d said something similar the first night I slept under her roof. I was fresh out of juvie and my trust in adults completely shattered.
She’d tucked a quilt around me and said, “You’ll be alright, baby. You just need somebody who won’t give up on you.” Twenty-seven years later, she still hadn’t given up.
“From your mouth to God’s ears,” I said.
Before she could respond, Kandi called out, her voice cutting through the chatter, “Time to open presents! Dee, get your no-business-being-pregnant butt over here!”
I squeezed Mama Nettie’s hand and made my way back to the center of the room, settling into the chair they’d decorated with ribbons and balloons.
Even though the party was pulled together last minute, my friends had clearly put thought into their gifts, and I was feeling all kinds of emotional as I opened the presents. Tiny onesies, soft blankets, books—each gift reminded me that this was really happening. I was going to be a mother again.
When the pile of gifts had dwindled to just a few, Tia stepped forward and handed me a small gift bag tied with ribbons. Inside were handmade coupons for childcare, babysitting, and other help for the future.
This meant everything. It was Tia’s way of accepting her siblings. I pulled her into a quick hug, whispering, “Thank you” against her braids.
