My wife, Kelly Georgia, had to retire because I got her pregnant! Well, we had been planning this for over a year now, but who knew it would just happen all of a sudden? So she had to retire from pickleball sports, her best and only sport, and even her career.
For those of you who don't know what pickleball is all about, it's a paddle sport that combines the elements of ping-pong, tennis, and badminton. Yeah, it's basically swinging the ball from all ends.
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I met my wife six years ago; she was still at the earliest stage of her career, but she was good. I have never seen a woman who loves pickleball like this woman; you could see the passion in her eyes whenever the sport was brought up. She was greatly encouraged by her dad, but too bad he passed away right after she qualified as a professional to play the sport.
So talking about retirement didn't sit right with me. I know we had a lot ahead of us, but I didn't want my wife to feel like she missed out on anything just because she wanted to be a wife and a mother.
Now let's fast-forward to now. She's already 8 months gone and heavily pregnant, and she kept walking around like a cut rabbit with its belly full. One thing I never understood was her craving for pickles; it was her heaven in every given food. Give rice; she's looking for pickles on it; give soup; she's asking where my pickles are, honey.
"Baby, where are my pickles!? I left them in the fridge; why can't I find them?.” I saw my heavily pregnant wife with a pouty face fighting with the fridge, which had me laughing.
"Jonathan, stop laughing. I want my pickles, or I'm done with you.” Ok, she's serious. I was forced to swallow up my laughter, putting on a serious face. I can't afford to sleep with the dogs tonight; you know what I'm saying.
"Oh, darling, I'm sorry. Have you checked the counter for them? I asked, making a very concerned face. She always forgets where she keeps her pickles every time. I don't even eat those, but I get accused every time they get missing and still join in the search mission.
“No, I won't be looking for it if I haven't checked there first.” She answered irritably. Now, let me warn you: you do not annoy a pregnant woman more than she's already annoyed; you either solve the problem, which you must, or shut up unless you're asked a question, and don't forget to be sweet and nice altogether too.
I knew she didn't check the counter well because I could see it just standing there screaming, Pick me, pick me, and eat me, lady!. I quickly carried the pickles in a jar and made it look like I found them in the most hidden part or place of the earth. And immediately she saw it; her mood just switched, and there it was—that smile and shine in her eyes. I mean, I'm the husband, the one who got her pregnant, but I don't get that happy shine when I'm seen.
"Oh, my pickles!!!” She quickly got it from my hands—not a thank you, not a I got you, not a you did well for just seeing my pickles on the counter, just sitting there.
Sometimes I feel invisible in my own house, but that didn't stop me from smiling because her happiness was my happiness. And she would always be my loveable wife, even when I'm competing with a goddamn pickle.
I was planning a little surprise for Kelly after we delivered our son. I wanted her to get back into her passion; she can't stop or kill her dreams just because she wants to be a mom. It's a deep sacrifice, which I deeply appreciate, but I can't allow that because she put in a lot of work to get to the peak of her career. So I meant with her organization and her coach, of course, and we both agreed that she could be on parental leave, or even better, she could turn in a lot of work to get to the peak of her career. So I meant with her organization and her coach, of course, and we both agreed that she could be on parental leave, or even better, she could turn in a lot of work to get to the peak of her career. So I meant with her organization and her coach, of course, and we both agreed that she could be on parental leave, or even better, she could turn in a lot of work to get to the peak of her career. So I meant with her organization and her coach, of course, and we both agreed that she can be on parental leave, or even better, she could turn out to be a coach herself if she wants. So this plan has been in motion for weeks, and I have done everything possible to keep her dreams alive.
I just hope she's going to agree to this, because we're due in two weeks, and I'm more than excited to meet our new baby.
"Baby, what if our baby actually turns out to be a pickle because I'm eating it too much?.” She asked, bringing my thoughts back to the present situation, and she already had tears forming in her eyes; this was something I was used to already.
“Of course not, darling; the baby would look just like you, perfect in all places and corners; even the non-perfect parts would be perfect.” I answered as nicely as I could. With her, I knew her insecurity came up once in a while, and I had to smooth it away.
She had that teary kind of smile with a little pout; sometimes I felt more lucky than I already am. “We should name him Pickles,” she said quickly. Now that's where I draw the line: we can't name our kid after a pickle. We can't have people calling him "Pickle Junior." I'm not going to compete with pickles for my kid's name either.
“Now look, darling, we already agreed on a better name besides Pickle to name our son; like Jonathan, he can be named after me.”
"No, baby, pickles sound cuter, and he's going to be like a little tiny bean just like a pickle. Don't you think so?”
I was pitying my son; if only he knew, at least this one wasn't my fault. I smiled, looking down at her. “For now, let's stick with you resting; then we can decide if Pickles is the father or not.”
Her laughter echoed in the room, and making me smile, less than two weeks our son was born Joshua green Georgia, according to my wife, the green represent the 'pickles' but it could have been worse so I was okay with green, she was pretty much excited that she was going to go back to her passion, pickleball paddle. I'm just happy that we achieve so much in the pass few months and my son's name wasn't pickles.
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Pregnant women and their obsession with pickles ...
But pickleball .... never heard of it!
Yeah that's true, they like pickles and other weird stuffs.
Well pickleball is a sport according to my research. I to had no idea what it was all about, it's like playing tennis but it's not tennis.
I love how you are doing research for your stories! A girl after my own heart!
The descriptions really bring the scenes to life, from the wife "fighting with the fridge" to find her pickles to her excitement when finally reunited with the beloved pickles. The photographs included help visualize the wife's pregnant belly and pickle craving.
You repeated the statement several times, I guess it was a mistake.
Allowing Kelly return to her passion is a beautiful because many women feels like their career and passion is over after they become a mother. I love the couples way of life even though it's just a story, I love it when couples behave this way.
This is a beautiful story... Thanks for sharing.
You certainly addressed the pickle prompt. We have pickleball and a passion for pickles. We almost have a child named pickles. The story is funny and touching. The husband's sympathy for his wife is unusual, and admirable. There is a problem in one of the paragraphs where you keep repeating this line:
Something went wrong in the final edit it seems.
The story is entertaining and well told. Thank you for sharing it with us, @jazclassic.