It’s always complicated.
And she was utterly alone.
A hand fluttered to her belly.
No.
Not quite.
Chapter Six
Three months later
“I can’t believe you still haven’t told them!” Josie hissed from the corner of her mouth as she sat next to Laura in the waiting room of the nurse-midwife’s office. Half the pregnant women seemed to be called to the midwife side, and half to the obstetrician side. Josie was so out of place there, like a toothpick in a sea of Teletubbies.
Laura compared her growing belly to those she saw. At nineteen weeks, she was almost halfway there. That first trip to the doctor three months ago had yielded a complete shocker: she was seven weeks along. One missed period and bam! She was nearly one-sixth through the pregnancy without knowing it. All the prenatal vitamins and pregnancy yoga and morning sickness remedies helped her to get here, but Josie was harping on the one, pesky little detail she couldn’t deny her way out of for much longer.
The past twelve weeks had been a blur, and now she was about to meet her baby via ultrasound, go home with a picture of an alien baby that people would pretend was beautiful, and here she sat after drinking a liter of fluid, her panties moist from a bladder that gave up control right around the time her shoes stopped fitting. A light breeze could make her pee at this point. A sneeze would unleash a tsunami.
“Am I as big as her?” she whispered quietly, surreptitiously pointing to a woman who looked ready to drop any day. The shirt she wore looked like something a tent rental company made for her. She violated the laws of physics when she stood.
“Close,” Josie guessed. Her face reddened and she tsked. “Quit changing the subject! When are you telling Dylan and Mike?”
“Soon. After this,” she replied, pointing vaguely toward the midwife’s office. Today she would have her first ultrasound and, she hoped, learn the baby’s sex. She squirmed horribly, and not from Josie’s nagging. Her bladder was rapidly in need of its own, separate bladder. A kegel would help, but damn if she could isolate and squeeze anything down there right now.
“You’ve been putting it off for three months, Laura! And you always say ’soon’ but it’s never ’soon.’”
“It’s complicated.” Laura threw her a glare to stop a truck. If she said it...
“So we’re inducing next week, when I hit thirty-eight weeks,” she heard the enormously pregnant woman say. A creeping dread seeped through her skin. Or was it a hot flash? She honestly couldn’t tell the difference any more. Holy shit! That woman was twice as far along as Laura? How could they be close to—
“Laura Michaels?” A medical assistant appeared, chart in hand. The drill was simple for her normal appointments; go on in to the bathroom, pee, dip the sticks in, and if anything came back irregular, report it to the midwife. Then sit in the waiting area again until called.
For an ultrasound, though, she went back through the maze of medical equipment and desks to a tiny room with an exam table crammed in. The platform seemed unusually high. Climb? Dude, she could barely wipe herself these days, the stretch a, well...stretch. Climb?
“Climb on up,” the male technician directed, his voice pleasant and his demeanor kind.
“With this exploding bladder, I’ll squirt like a firehose if I lift my leg.”
Josie laughed. The tech seemed amused. “Nothing I haven’t seen before.” All these baby people kept saying that to her. If it was supposed to put her at ease it did, but also left an unsettled feeling, as if her birth experience weren’t unique, as if everything she was going through and that seemed so special were just...ordinary. Being ordinary didn’t trouble her, in general, but the sensations and blossoming of this new life within her were so special, so life-altering, that she wished everyone around her would give just a little more “wow!” when they interacted with her.
Or, maybe, what she really wished was that she had a partner to go through all of this with her. Resting her hand on her belly, she wondered when she’d feel the baby move. Hopelessly eager, every pocket of gas, tweaked muscle, you name it—she braced and held her breath, hoping...
And wasn’t that something she should share with the baby’s father?
Fathers, an evil voice whispered in her mind.
Somehow she managed, with Josie’s help, to get up on that torture table. Reclining on her back pushed her womb against her bladder, making her instantly homicidal.
“Oh, man, can’t I pee? Please?”
“Just a few minutes,” the tech said, then explained the procedure. She hiked up her maternity shirt, a cute print from the Gap. Shopping for maternity clothing had turned out to be liberating, because the designers expected you to have breasts and a belly! Her shirt was covered with hippie swirls of pinks and turquoises, with lots of white thrown in. The panel on her maternity jeans was a pale blue, stretchy jersey added where the zipper and button normally would be.