“Of course,” he said, smiling at me, twining his fingers with mine. “I’d love to take my beautiful wife out for dinner.” His thumb traced small circles on the back of my hand and it caused goose bumps to rise up and down my arms.
“Perfect. Any chance you want to give your beautiful wife a full-body massage after you take her to dinner?” Massages had become a frequent occurrence in our household at about six months. Sometimes they were very necessary. It was possible that sometimes I also played the pregnancy card to get frequent massages when they weren’t completely necessary. Then there were the times when I just wanted to feel my husband’s hands running over my skin and this was my passive way of asking him to get me naked and touch me. I never fooled him though. He always knew when I was making a ploy for sex.
“I’m sure that could be arranged,” he said, the words falling from his mouth in a slow and sexy timbre. He knew exactly what I was asking for and by the sound of it, was planning on delivering. My core clenched with just his words and the way he said them. I felt my face start to heat, sure I was turning red. “You getting hot, Babe? Need the AC turned up?” His sexy voice was now also playful.
“Shut up,” I said, smiling as well. Then I reached forward and adjusted a vent to blow directly on me. I heard him snicker and looked over at him. He was trying so hard to keep in a big laugh and just seeing him happy made the events of the day seem insignificant. One moment of happy with Porter could make a terrible day fade into darkness. How lucky was I?
Having a baby, even though you are constantly surrounded by women who’ve done it and heard about it for your entire life, is something you can never fully be prepared for. The birth of my precious baby will always be the shining moment of my life. Until I have another, the moment I held my baby for the first time will forever be the moment I cherish most. I love Porter more than I ever thought I could love anyone, but my love for my child couldn’t compare to my love for any other person. It was different. More. Completely encompassing. There was absolutely nothing like it. I couldn’t explain it—it was something one had to experience to fully understand. But even after what could be described as a ‘less than simple’ birth, the only thought I had was, I would do that a million times over again for this little baby in my arms. Gladly. I would do anything for my child.
I woke up in the middle of the night, not unusual at all for me anymore. I groaned, a little perturbed to be disrupted as I slept, but then after waking up a little more fully, realized that it had finally happened. I peed the bed.
“Shit,” I whisper-yelled, completely mortified. Over the duration of my pregnancy I gained a new appreciation for my pre-pregnant bladder, but this was ridiculous. “Gross, gross, gross,” I said as I hobbled out of bed, heading for the bathroom. I made it to the bathroom and started stripping my clothes off and heard Porter rustling around.
“You ok, Babe?” His sleepy voice called out. I groaned inwardly, not wanting to admit to what had happened, completely mortified.
“Yeah,” I whined. “Ew. Ew. Ew. Yuck . . .” I cried as I peeled my yoga pants down. “I’m so done with this whole pregnant thing,” I yelled out, frustrated. I looked up to see him standing in the doorway, legs crossed at the ankle, hands gripping the top of the door frame, shirtless. I glared at him. How dare he look like a GQ model while I stood there huge and gross.
“You’re nearly done,” he said sweetly.
“Ok, well, I just peed the bed, so unless you can ensure that won’t happen again, being nearly done isn’t good enough. Oh, and yesterday I couldn’t make it down the stairs at the beach house. I couldn’t see the stairs, Porter. My big-ass belly was in the way and I couldn’t see the stairs. I had to go down them sideways. SIDEWAYS. I can’t get up from the couch on my own, I can’t sleep on my stomach, I can’t eat a turkey sandwich, and I really want a turkey sandwich.” I was seething at this point and could feel my heart beating rapidly. I stopped and took a few deep breaths in and out. “I love this baby, Porter,” I said, looking him in the eyes. “I do. But I want it out, like, now.” He walked to me and wrapped his arms around me.
“I can’t imagine what it feels like to be pregnant, but I can tell you that you’re doing a wonderful job. The baby will come when it’s time.” I groaned into his naked chest. After a moment, I pulled away and waddled into the shower. When I emerged, feeling clean again, I smiled at the fresh pajamas folded neatly on the counter. The gross ones were gone and I decided my husband needed some sort of award. I dried off, dressed, and then made my way back into the bedroom only to find Porter putting clean sheets on the bed.
“You’re the best. I’m sorry you have to clean up after me.”