Rocked Up

Sometimes, though, it’s frustrating. I never assumed that pregnancy was a walk in the park but the truth is, it’s not as fun as some women make it out to be. I’m not glowing and I never was. I’ve been heavier than I should be and a big sweaty mess, and my morning/afternoon sickness kind of morphed into just an overall feeling of unease that doesn’t go away.

I’ve been bitchy, cranky, and at times it’s hard to find the bright side in all of it. It doesn’t help that I’m tired all the time. Like, pretty much from the first moment I found out I was pregnant, I’ve been exhausted. Then there’s the brain fog that doesn’t go away and the fact that I’m always hungry and yet my taste for food changes frequently. Today the vanilla ice cream at IKEA was delicious, last week the idea would have been revolting. It’s hard to keep up.

I’ve talked it over with my doctor, concerned that something was wrong or maybe I’m just not a good fit for pregnancy. I mean, I’m young, I thought this was the optimal time to carry a child.

But he assured me I’m healthy and the baby is healthy and it’s just not all that it’s cracked up to be. Not every mother glows and feels rested and peaceful, full of rainbows and butterflies. Some moms are sweaty and fat and gross and full of farts that can clear a room.

Poor, poor Brad.

This is what he’s had to put up with.

Needless to say, we’re both happy for when this whole ordeal is over and we can hold our little girl.

Her name is Emma, which was my mother’s middle name.

I’m also excited to start being a mom and get back into the music business. In the early stages of pregnancy, I still had the emotional drive and brain power to write songs. But that all faded pretty quickly.

Once Emma is born, I can get back into it and focus on my music career, whether it’s just writing songs and helping Brad with his solo career, or gearing up for a side project of my own.

Brad’s been doing well. He has plans, especially now with the theater and studio we bought. Things are slowly getting into place. At first he was really adrift, which is only natural after being severed from the only thing he really knew. Like it or not, my father was everything to him and taught him a lot, showed him the ropes, took him under his wing.

It’s just that it was a vulture’s wing, scavenging on the helpless, always looking out for his own best interests in mind, never Brad’s.

It was brave what Brad did. Brave and totally romantic. Picking me, picking Emma, over his band, over his musical career.

But Brad has never been an idiot. And ever since he and my father parted ways, he’s been working non-stop. The band has dissolved for now, though he has talked with Switch about getting together to do something of the same. Calvi, of course, has been hung out to dry, that jackass. My only consolation in all of this is that being a tattle tale didn’t pay off for Calvi at all. He thought he was going to win big favors with my father by snitching on us but the truth is he hasn’t worked since and I doubt he’ll have an easy time going forward. It’s a small town and no one wants to work with a guy like that. Musicians crave their privacy.

Brad’s also been recording some songs somewhere while we wait for our own studio to be completed, and working with various artists. This is the first time he’s ever had total artistic freedom as an artist and I think he’s just taking his time and enjoying all of it.

Besides, it’s nice to have him by my side. He really feels like a partner in all of this and though we have never discussed the possibility of marriage, I know he loves me and is in this for the long haul. He’s proved that to me time and time again.

“Do you mind stopping at 7/11?” I ask him as we turn off Ventura Blvd. “I’m craving some nachos.”

“Lael, that’s not even real food. That cheese is basically plastic. Orange-colored melted plastic on top of GMO chips.”

“I know, but I want them.”

I give him a look that says not to mess with me.

The pregnant lady always wins.

He sighs and pulls into the parking lot and I ease myself out of the car. He’s adamant I stay put but I know it’s not just the nachos that I want, it’s whatever else catches my fancy as I walk the aisles.

I catch a glimpse of the wine and whimper internally. Soon, soon, my precious, I think to the wine bottles. I can’t wait to start having wine again.

I go down the aisles, grabbing whatever bags of chips and junk that catches my eye (there’s no wonder I’m as big as a house), passing them all off to Brad who cradles them in his arms, then head to the snack bar in the middle of the store.

Fake food or not, I want those gross nachos. I grab them, making sure they are drowning in the cheese, then contemplate hitting it up with jalapenos. I haven’t had the stomach for spicy food lately but I know that they can help induce labor (so they say) and at this moment, I want nothing more.

I’m just about to spoon them on top of the nachos when I hear a faint popping sound, like someone has cracked their knuckles.

Only the sound is coming from me.

Then a huge gush of fluid comes streaming down my legs like a waterfall and onto the floor, splashing everywhere.

I drop the nachos on top of it in surprise.

The ultimate mess.

“Are you okay?” Brad asks, then he looks down. “Oh my god! Your water just broke! Oh my god! You’re going into labor! Oh my god! You can’t have a baby in 7/11!”

Meanwhile I’m stunned. A bit mortified that I created the grossest scene to ever grace this 7/11 (and that’s saying a lot) but I’m more shocked than anything.

“Let’s go!” Brad says, putting his arms around me and trying to lead me out of the store. The water doesn’t seem to stop though, it keeps flowing like someone put a hose between my legs. This is nothing like peeing yourself, this is something else entirely and I’m helpless to stop it.

Brad is freaking out, apologizing to the 7/11 employee who doesn’t look as concerned as he should be, and then ushers me out to the car, getting me in my seat.

“Are you okay? Are you in pain? Are you okay?” Brad is panicking.

I nod as he clips in my seatbelt. “I’m okay. I just…I guess this is it.”

“Okay. Okay, okay, okay. We’re one minute from the house, we’ll just go there and get the overnight bag and stuff and oh my god I can’t believe this is happening. Wait, am I being dumb? Should I get you to the hospital first?”

I give him look, trying to get him to calm down. “Let’s go home. You go grab the bag. Call Sally to come pick up Baby Groot. I’m not having contractions yet and you know this can take a long time. In fact, he said if my water breaks, we don’t have to rush to the hospital. We can go later.”

“No, we’re going now. I’m not waiting twenty-four hours to see how this progresses. It’s progressing. It progressed all over 7/11. We’re going.”

“All right.”

I’m amazed at how cool I’m being.

Of course, all of that stops the minute he runs into the house to get the supplies.

Then I’m hit with the mother of all cramps.

It’s like a charley horse on my uterus.

Holy shit.

I grip the edge of the seat and let out a yelp.

Fucking contractions.

I feared them for months and now they’re finally here.