Dawes’ First Family Christmas

By Kelda Laing Poynot

December 2021

MIAMI – Two days before Christmas

“Where’s his pacifier?” Sefa called down the stairs.

With one hand, I dug through the leather backpack that cost more than my first car. The intricately sewn bag had a million pockets. Our squirming infant made it hard to search thoroughly. I balanced him against my hip and searched two more pockets. My hand felt the rubber tip of the extra noonie, but Sefa refused to call it that.

“I found it!” I yelled back up to her. I heard her mutter something back to me, but she was too far away.

I made a mental note of the designated pocket so that I’d remember. He’d most likely need it on the plane ride. I zipped the bag and secured it onto my shoulder. It had to weigh twenty pounds, carrying every baby essential known to mankind.

Patrick squealed when he saw his momma walking down the stairs. I looked up and smiled. I didn’t squeal, but I agreed with his reaction. We were equally devoted to the same woman. Sefa wore her hair in a loose bun at the nape of her neck. Her V-neck sweater clung to her breasts, falling to the waistband of her jeans. Her high boots made her look tall and ready for whatever the day threw at her. She shifted her weight as she descended the stairs.

Throughout the pregnancy, Sefa hadn’t missed a beat. Even with modified bed rest and a scheduled C-section, she managed her insane cravings and swam every day. Sefa smiled at Patrick. Her indulgent eyes radiated everything maternal. She loved being a mom, and as with most things, she made it look effortless.

With the pregnancy confirmed, we flew to Miami. Caroline noticed our wedding bands as soon as we walked in. Then her eyes brightened, and the biggest smile spread across her face. “You’re staying! You’re staying in Miami! This is better than Christmas!” she exclaimed.

Our moving had been a double stipulation. I wasn’t moving to Miami unless Sefa agreed to marry me. She finally conceded when I made it a requirement before delving into infertility treatments. She wanted to try for a child more than she wanted to live in Miami.

When we told the family that we were expecting, Caroline shoved me playfully in the chest. “You, dog! You purposefully kept away so that we wouldn’t know!” She kissed my cheek and hugged me before she ran to Sefa and squeezed her, squealing like a little girl. “Abbey June will have a cousin! This is great!” Caroline exclaimed.

Given the procedure, there was a chance of multiples. My own mother had been a twin, and she had my twin brothers. I wasn’t sure how it would pass through me, but during our first ultrasound, the monitor showed two distinct masses, but we’d have to wait and see if they developed into babies. The next ultrasound revealed two separate heartbeats.

I had to sit down for that news. Ma and her sisters were surely on their knees. They completed novena after novena for the sole purpose of my unborn child. They’d outdone themselves – double blessings!

Halfway through the pregnancy, the doctors detected Anna’s heart condition. That’s when Sefa’s activities were abruptly interrupted. She was allowed to swim but had to be off her feet most of the day. Mizhir and I drove her to her appointments. Nita and Caroline kept her fed. Caroline and Abbey June kept her entertained. We lived in the pool house because the doctor didn’t want Sefa risking a fall on the stairs.

Ma flew down after the twins were born. She wanted to meet her namesake and, although we didn’t need it, insisted on helping out. We named our daughter after her two grandmothers. Anna Ecrin Emir-Dawes was delivered only seconds before her much larger brother, Patrick Jean Emir-Dawes. If Sefa had gotten her way, Patrick would have two middle names, Jean-Michel, but I couldn’t, in good conscience, give my son two hyphenated names, so we settled on Jean. As it was, it was a mouthful. Caroline took to calling him PJ, and in her accent, I liked it. It suited his personality. Abbey liked it when I called her AJ.

Anna had to stay in the hospital a little longer than her brother for observation. When the twins were six weeks old, we then flew up to Virginia to run a bunch of tests. We called in reinforcements, and Ma came down to give us a hand while we spent hours at the clinics and the pediatric hospital running our newborn through a million tests.

I was glad Ma was there. She watched Patrick while Sefa and I took Anna to her appointments. The results determined that our Anna would need surgery if the defect didn’t correct itself. She would be monitored often, but for now, she was healthy and active.

Our plump little girl had all of her mother’s features, but mine and Ma’s blue eyes lightened the mix a bit. Anna also got mine and Ma’s dimpled cheeks. Her head-full of black hair always gave her expression an element of surprise. Except for Abbey June’s curls, Anna favored her cousin in almost every way. Then there was Patrick; damn if he didn’t look like Hashim.

This time, we were flying to Albany. Other than a couple of flights to the specialists in Virginia, we hadn’t traveled with the babies. Ecrin offered to hire a travel au pair, but I refused. Ma managed seven of us, so I knew I’d catch hell from my siblings and their spouses if we showed up with two and help.

“Do we have everything?” I asked.

“Yes, sorry. Anna had already outgrown the outfit I’d chosen.”

I handed Patrick to Sefa and secured the backpack. Patrick was contented to be held. Anna was never without her pacifier or fingers or whatever she could fit into her mouth.

I adjusted the backpack before taking both babies from Sefa. The bags were already in the car. Before the twins arrived, Mizhir traded in the BMW for a fully-loaded Suburban to better accommodate car seats. It was nothing like the one my parents owned. Mizhir took the job of safety very seriously. He babyproofed the house and guest house. He installed a gate around the pool and purchased the top-rated car seats and baby gear. Even I thought he’d gone overboard.

Sefa wore the babies like fashion accessories, practical and stylish. I’d been around newborns plenty. God knows, Sefa, too, but we were not prepared for our own. I don’t guess anyone is.

ALBANY – Two days before Christmas

This was the second time Sefa and I celebrated Christmas with my family. The first time was before we married. Grown or not, living together or not, I knew better than to ask Ma if we could stay with them. I would never presume. She and her sisters prayed and lit candles to help me see the error of my ways. Maybe their prayers helped Sefa’s clarity, too. Now that we were married and had kids to share, we’d stay in my sisters’ old room. Ma and Dad had removed the bunkbeds and converted it into a guest room.

Dad picked us up at the airport in the old Suburban. We told Dad we could rent a car and stay in a hotel, but Ma wouldn’t hear of it.  Dad kissed Sefa’s cheek, wheeled the loaded cart, and marveled at how the babies had grown. We video chatted weekly, but it was the first time he’d met them in person. He held Patrick while I secured the car seats. Dad and Sefa chatted, and I heard him laugh at something she said.

“Liam Patrick,” Ma exclaimed as we entered the house.

Ma scooped up a baby and made over the other one, making them laugh and coo. She then kissed both of our cheeks, ushering us into the house through the kitchen door.

Patrick was circumcised on the eighth day by a rabbi. Sefa and I never argued about religion, but she knew where I stood. She respected my position and agreed to have them christened while with my family. Father Mahoney was our family priest, a distant cousin on my dad’s side. He agreed to christen the twins after mass on Christmas Day.

ALBANY – Christmas Eve

The house was bustling late, playing games Christmas Eve. My sisters constantly offered their opinions.

“She’s a pediatrician. I don’t think she needs your unsolicited advice,” I said.

“Knowing about kids and having your own are completely different,” Katie argued.

Sefa was consoling and diplomatic. “It’s fine, Liam. Your sisters know way more about raising children. I know how to treat illnesses and normal growth and development, but I can’t hold a candle to their experience.”

The basement had been taken over by all of my nieces and nephews. Sefa taught them a card game. I could hear her each time she won a hand. She would be merciless with the young people and assert her dominance. The Dawes clan was fiercely competitive, but Sefa could hold her own. Patrick and Anna slept on my chest, weighing me down into Dad’s recliner. It was good there with my family.

The Emirs were nothing like Ma and Dad. They didn’t celebrate birthdays or holy days as a family. They acknowledged accomplishments and successes. They celebrated accords and successful negotiations. They readily raised their glasses but humbly accepted praise. I guess our families had that in common.

ALBANY – Christmas Day

Earlier, during mass, we each held a baby. The familiar Latin flowed as the incense wafted throughout the church. This was the church where I’d been christened, made my first communion, and got confirmed. It was where I served as an altar boy and where I’d made my first confession. Ma was a firm believer in confession, and we went weekly until I left for boot camp.

The Dawes clan filled up two entire pews. I took Sefa’s hand as we prayed. I loved having her beside me, singing, going through the rituals, reciting the order of worship. This was only the second time she’d attended mass with my family. Ma didn’t judge her for not converting when we married.

“That’s God’s work,” she’d said. “I can’t make anyone believe, but I can pray, so I’ll pray.”

Growing up, there was no choice in the matter. We were Catholic, and nearly everyone we knew was Catholic, but Ecrin and Rana had educated their children and allowed each of them to follow their own paths. Rana had abandoned much of his upbringing, conforming to western culture. He never spoke of God or faith or religion, not in a personal sense, yet he surrounded himself with devout believers and did not judge his children’s paths.

Ecrin’s Judaism was stronger than I’d once considered. Although Ecrin didn’t wear her faith on the outside, she carried it deep within herself. We shared a god, and we shared a family. I trusted her more than I ever knew would be possible, but time and grandchildren and a strong commitment to her daughter may have all worked to soften her, too. I’d give Caroline that credit. She’d definitely been the one to start Ecrin’s gradual thaw.

Ma and Dad, Sefa and I, and the twins stayed after mass for the christening. We asked my sister, Katie, and her husband, Ian, to be godparents, and their son was the altar boy. Patrick was easy and peaceful as Father Mahoney poured water and oil over his head. Anna was wide-eyed and skeptical of the entire ordeal. Sweet Girl looked like she’d have a comment or two in protest if she had the words. Instead, she puffed out her bottom lip and scowled at Father. He laughed at Anna’s response. Ma took her namesake and distracted her with the pacifier. All was well, again.

We celebrated Christmas Day with a huge brunch. Chaos and banter filled the entire house. “Come throw the ball,” my twin brothers hollered to all the men during half-time. Dad took one baby, and my sister took another. My brothers-in-law all went outside with us.

That night, lying next to Sefa, my world was right. Our twins slept in the crib on the other side of the room. I rose and checked on them. They were fine, but I still marveled at their presence. Sefa joined me, placing her hand on my back. She could tell I was having a moment. Being home, surrounded by family, my own wife, my own kids. Five years had changed everything.