Things I've Written For Evie

Baby G

The nurse rubbed the jelly like liquid onto my pregnant stomach as I lay with my arms tucked behind my head. It felt squishy and cold on my belly, yet it wasn't unambiguous in anyway; the feeling actually gave a hope that maybe this time all our hopes and prayers will be answered. That I can gift my husband Steven Gerrard with a little baby boy. Like he'd always dreamed of having.

The skipper of Liverpool Football Club was my sweetheart of 10 years. I'd migrated over from Texas when I was just a little girl, living the city life in Liverpool, growing up to become an adopted Scouser yet still a passionate Hispanic and Texan at heart. It was through my own sheer determination and love for the club that I persuaded my father to buy us season tickets at Anfield in the Kop. We both grew to love the club like it was part of our family. Football in Liverpool is a religion for most, the sport paves the streets and coats it in glory as most people have known it to be the football capital of the world. Marvellous memories have been made over the years, one of them noticeably being back in 2003 when Steven became captain of the Reds, but it was also the year I met my hero for the first time.

It was your typical player-fan meeting. I'd been making my way back from work on a miserable and dreary Tuesday afternoon in November. Liverpool's city centre was bustling with the rush hour crowds despite the chilling drizzle of the wintery rain. I was struggling with my umbrella at the time, cursing at my stupidness of not buying a brand new one for the weary winter ahead in the North-West. In the end I'd given up with the damn thing, electing to pull my hood over my already incessantly soggy hair. I came to the square just outside of the bus station, a clearing usually filled with gangs of youths wasting time and smoking after the school day had ended. Yet there was no one there except one person stood under a red and white umbrella, their body language miserable. The man had one hand in his pocket and he was staring at the rain drops violently hitting the huge puddle in front of him as he stood waiting outside of the launderette. I had to make my way past the man, and as I stomped my way through the puddles, he looked up and stared at me and I nearly tripped over my own feet when I registered who he was.

I literally stopped in the middle of the path and eyed the man, recognising him instantly I wanted to say something to him, go up to him, whatever. Except all I could do was stand frozen to the spot as hailstones began to hit my head and back. There was no mistaking him, this was Steven Gerrard and he was just stood here in the rain and he was staring back at me with this piercing but friendly look in his eyes. The newly made skipper of Liverpool then stretched his mouth into a pleasurable grin.

"Steven,"

It wasn't so much a question but more a perplexed statement, the first word that I could think of just happened to be my favourite player's name. Which was fortunate. At least it wasn't 'asdfghjkl'.

"Hello," he tilted his head as my feet finally woke up and I strolled towards the midfielder. "Pleasant weather we're having."

I chuckled indignantly. "It's horrible."

"Suppose you're used to sun back in the States," he gave me a knowing smile as I stared blankly at him. "You're American, right?"

"How did you know?" Frowning, I shuffled my feet. How did he know I was American...?

"Your accent?"

"Oh! Oh right. Yeah," I could feel my cheeks reddening, knowing that my naïvety will one day be the death of me. "Well I've lived here since I was six but I still have a Southern accent. Wouldn't mind a Scouse one to be honest."

It was his turn to chuckle this time. His eyes were magnificent. They really brightened up the whole area considering how dull it was.

"So can I get a photo with you or whatever? You're my favourite player," the blush was still there as I told my hero that I loved him the best. I then whipped out my flip phone, the most popular cell phone of that year and took a picture with Steven Gerrard.

From that Tuesday on, every time I walked out of the quaint little café I worked at down Matthew Street and down to the clearing of the square, I'd see Steven Gerrard standing outside of that launderette, sometimes with an umbrella, sometimes in his sunglasses, weather depending. He was the epitome of a God, either standing a mask of beauty unravelling itself from the rain or a golden boy, taking pictures and autographs with the fans. Every Tuesday I'd walk past him, either exchanging a smile or watching as I walked by as he smiled with the adoring Kopites. It wasn't until a year later that we spoke again, a week before he scored that stunning goal against Olympiacos in the Champions League on the road to Istanbul.

As I strode by on a calm and sunny Tuesday afternoon, preparing myself to exchange my weekly smile with Steven Gerrard, I heard a distinct Scouse accent calling out a greeting. I turned to see Steven strolling towards me. The next thing I knew, we were exchanging numbers and he was asking me out on a dinner date.

I look back on it now and don't find it too surreal considering that Steven is now my husband. Although a few days later on our date when he told me that the first time he met me outside of the launderette, he thought I was the most beautiful girl I'd ever seen, ever since then he'd wait outside that launderette just to catch a glimpse of me every week. Can you believe that? Steven Gerrard was practically my stalker!

The story made for a good joke at our wedding though. New Years Eve 2005 was when he proposed to me and by the summer of 2006 we were happily married and expecting our first child. Giovanna was our first born, Xanthe our second and Iris not long after that. They were the spitting image of Steven, that was no lie. Yet they were all fluent in Spanish like their momma.

"Will your husband be coming?" the nurse asked, setting up the ultrasound machine.

"He's just had training, he said he'd be here as soon as possible-"

And just like the magical person he was, there was a knock on the door and Steven entered, smiling his usual and routine smile.

"Hiya," he nodded at the nurse and came and sat in the unoccupied seat next to me. "How are ya?"

"Alright," I said, taking his hand. The nurse then began to take the scan of my stomach. It was something we were so used to now, we'd become accustomed to it the fourth time around.

"Okay. Everything looks wonderful here. The baby looks healthy. The fourth Gerrard, very exciting," the nurse gave us an excited smile. Considering she'd been giving me ultrasounds since we'd been expecting Xanthe and she supported Liverpool, she was just as thrilled as us I think! "Would you like to know the sex?"

I expectantly looked at Steven and he squeezed my hand reassuringly. He nodded to the nurse and grinned at us. "It's a baby boy. Congratulations."

These were the words we'd been waiting patiently for. Of course I loved my three girls, they were my world and I don't know what I'd do without them. But it had been evident since we were expecting Iris that Steven was now pining for a little boy. He saw Lucas and Pepe kicking footballs around on the Anfield turf at the last game of the season with their little boys. He saw James Carragher at Kirkby Academy some weeks and wanted his own little boy to follow in his own footsteps, to be recruited from the academy and maybe one day play for the first team like he had all those years ago. And now that dream was coming true for my spectacular supernova Steven Gerrard.

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*ugly sobbing in a corner*

Sorry if I made you cry, Evie.