Bullet

chapter Seven

Present



MY SECOND TRIMESTER was rough. Ethan was on the road with the band while I was left at home. My doctor had told me I could travel, but I knew the road was stressful. That wouldn’t be the right place to be pregnant. So I did what I imagined most expectant moms did—I went shopping. I bought baby clothes, bottles, a crib, blankets, and every little thing the expecting your first baby books recommended. I bought neutral baby clothes, because—unlike all other women I knew—I wanted the baby’s sex to be a surprise. I didn’t want to know what I was having until he or she entered the world.

Ethan and I were on Skype several nights a week. He wanted to keep up to date with the baby’s progress. And it gave me hope. If Ethan was going to fall off the wagon anywhere, it would be on the road. But he was fine. He was sober every time we talked—alert and happy.

With his blessing, I converted one of our spare bedrooms into a nursery. I found a local artist who painted the room in rainbows, birds, chipmunks, and fun little forest scenes. That room was so heartwarming, and it made me even more eager to hold my baby in my arms. I’d stand over the crib for minutes at a time, imagining our little baby sleeping in that bed, his little haven from the cold world.

Ethan asked me what it was like when the baby kicked. I wished he could be there to feel it. It was so weird at first, feeling one of the baby’s limbs poking out of my belly. Ethan promised to be home before I gave birth, and I hoped he’d be able to feel the baby’s movements. I was so afraid he wouldn’t get home until it was time to give birth.

But he got back in time. He got arrived home weeks before my due date, and then he got to experience all that he’d been missing. We’d be watching TV, and I’d grab his hand when I felt the baby moving, pressing it on my tummy where I’d felt the movement. He’d get an expression of joy and awe every time he felt the baby move. And we got in our natural childbirth classes, just in the nick of time.

As my due date approached, he stayed with me day and night. He might have had an antiquated idea of what pregnant women should and shouldn’t do, but I was enjoying being pampered a little bit. I couldn’t remember the last time (if ever) I’d been doted on like that. Granted, I’d still do a few things when he wasn’t around, but overall he let me do no housework, although both my obstetrician and I assured him it would be all right. I took walks in the afternoon and slept more than I usually did, because I’d been told sleep would be a rare commodity once the baby came along. But I was bored out of my mind. We even had the band over once a week for barbecues and just hanging out. I did a lot of reading and catching up on TV series I’d missed over the last few years. But nothing was satisfying enough. I wanted the baby here.

Early one morning around two o’clock, I woke up. I realized I was cramping. I just lay there, unable to sleep, but I suspected something was going on. A while later, my belly tightened. Yes…it was a contraction, all right, but was it the real deal? Less than ten minutes later, I had another one, and that’s when I touched Ethan’s shoulder and asked him to get up.

He was tired and groggy at first, but then it registered with him. I knew what to do, because I’d been studying it for months. I had him use his cell phone’s stopwatch feature, and I had him time my contractions and the time between, and after half an hour, if the pain hadn’t become more intense and convinced me to go to the hospital, the time between contractions would have. I looked at Ethan. “It’s time to go.”

He tried to look excited, but I could see the worry in his eyes. He grabbed my prepared bag from the closet by the front door and then helped me up from the couch. I rubbed my belly, eager because I knew I’d finally see our baby soon.





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