The Baby Shower Left Right Game

Jess and Marco had been getting ready for this baby for months. The crib was in the room on the right, at the top of the stairs. The changing table was on the left. The hospital bag was packed and sitting right by the front door, and Marco checked it every night before bed like it might have run off.

The crib had taken them a whole Saturday. Jess held the right side. Marco held the left side. The instructions said to attach Panel A to the left rail with Bolt C. There was no Bolt C. By dinner the crib was standing, and there was one piece left, which they put in a drawer and agreed never to talk about.

Then came the shower. Jess's mom threw it in her backyard, and everybody came. Aunt Carol came with a gift on her left arm and a casserole on her right, because Aunt Carol has never arrived anywhere without a casserole. Marco's dad brought a toolbox and set it right next to the gifts, "for the next crib."

They played the games. They guessed the size of Jess's belly with string, and Uncle Ray cut his string so long it went around Jess twice, and she laughed so hard she had to sit down right on the cooler. They did the baby food taste test. Marco guessed "pears" for every jar and got one right.

Then the gifts. Diapers on the left. Wipes on the right. More diapers on the left. A tiny pair of sneakers that made everybody say "awww" at the exact same moment. A baby monitor that came with a forty-page manual, which Marco left in the box.

Three weeks later, at 3:12 in the morning, Jess sat up in bed and said, "Marco. It's time." Marco jumped up, put his left shoe on his right foot, decided there was no time to fix it, and ran right out the front door without the bag.

He came right back for the bag. Then he came right back for Jess.

The hospital was eleven minutes away. Left out of the neighborhood, right on Main, left at the gas station, right at the light that is always red. It was red. It's always red. Marco said a few things to that light that the baby, luckily, could not hear yet.

They pulled up to the doors on the right side of the hospital. The doors on the right were for deliveries. Not that kind. The other kind, with trucks. A very kind security guard pointed them left, around to the other entrance, and Marco said thank you four times.

Their daughter was born just after lunch. She had a lot of dark hair and a very loud opinion about being born. The nurse laid her right on Jess's chest, and Marco stood on the right side of the bed and cried, and then pretended he hadn't, and then cried again.

Everybody came to visit. Grandma held her in her left arm. Grandpa held her in his right. Aunt Carol held her and also, somehow, a casserole. The baby slept right through all of it and woke up the minute everyone left.

That first night home, Jess and Marco stood over the crib (the one with the extra piece still in the drawer) and watched her breathe. Left hand up by her face. Right hand in a little fist. "We made that," Marco whispered. "We did," said Jess. Then they both almost fell asleep standing up.

Every baby comes with a lot of gifts and no instructions. So hold on to whatever is in your hands right now, because that's yours. And to our mom-to-be: you're going to be great. The end.