Free clinic says I’m gonna have me another baby. Two months I been pregnant already, and it’s like I didn’t even notice. But now I’m pumped as hell, ’cause I been thinking how my two kids so badass and I already know a lot of stuff about being a good mom. Like I know not to brush their baby hair too rough when they head’s all soft and what cartoons are good for learning. This time it ain’t even gonna be that hard.
I fucking knew it, too. Like I thought I might be pregnant a couple weeks back, ’cause I was eating a bunch of taquitos off the rolling thing at the BP and they tasted funny. Usually, I don’t give a shit, since my manager Dave told me I got to keep it on overnight but he don’t even give me more money to do it. Like I’m his slave or something. Usually I just let that nasty-ass shit burn, ’cause fuck him, you know? But then I started thinking how when I was all pregnant with Rywanda and Liondrae, I started craving weird fruit and nacho cheese made me puke. Guess I got that mother’s intuition Montel always talking about.
I didn’t want to get all happy and attached and shit about it until it was for real, so I went and got the test on Tuesday when there isn’t a huge-ass line at the Westside clinic. That place gets so busy it ain’t even worth it. From now on, I’m not going near that place unless I’m, like, pretty sure I’m pregnant. Some nurse came in and told me it was positive, and then she start going off all like “don’t worry” and “you have options” and something about Folger’s acid shit I gotta be taking. I told her all my babies was born fine, and I don’t need her help to get fat and gassy. She should worry more about finding herself somebody. Looking like Fred from The Flintstones.
Some people get all weird about people having babies is all. Not me. I’ve just been thinking about what I’m gonna name it. Can’t get too far yet, ’cause it’s way too early to know if it a boy or not. But my girl Tina said it don’t hurt to keep a list just in case it comes out early and you end up naming it something stupid, like that stock girl at the factory where I worked got named Ce’Sarion.
It must be fate I’m supposed to have another baby, ’cause I wasn’t even trying or nothing. I mean, I’ve been hooking up with this guy Wills I met at the Ground Round, but only, like, occasional. People saying I should tell him, but he don’t even know I got two other babies yet and you can’t rush that shit on a guy or else he’ll leave your ass for someone less trouble.
I figure I’m not even going to get big and noticeable for another couple months, so I’ll tell him then. He seems a-right though, and everybody love my babies when they meet them. Especially ’Drae, ’cause he pretty damn funny for being 3 and not even talking yet.
When I have this one, I’ll have the same number of kids my mom had. I think three’s a great amount of babies, because then none of them never get lonely ’cause they got enough to play tag and darts and shit. Lionel, at the laundromat? He says three is the number of God or something, so it’s good luck that I have that many.
I don’t know about that, but it seems a bit coincidence that three’s the number of lines they give me on the WIC forms I got to fill out every five damn seconds. Why do they need to keep bugging me all the time? Shit, I ain’t losing ’em. I still got the same number of babies as last time you asked. And they need they cornflakes.
Only thing I’m pissed about is this means I got to go back and see that bitch Dr. Ennis again. I went to the Eastside to look for another clinic doctor, but they all want to see my health file from the last doctor. Like I got time to be at Kinko’s all day making copies of shit I don’t even understand. I bet they just don’t want to be my baby’s doctor. They know I call them on all their bullshit since I had two kids already and I know what’s up. Like how they said I got to see them a bunch of times after I give birth so they can check the baby. That ain’t the law.
I can weigh him at the grocery store just as easy and I’ll let you know. Shit.
