"Are you almost ready?" Brad calls out from the hallway with his toothbrush in his mouth. I give him a dirty look and point down to my bare feet.
"Do I look ready to you?" I ask. We're two days away from Christmas and it's freezing cold outside. I can't very well parade outside barefoot.
"Don't be such a smart ass, pretty girl," he says and runs the toothbrush over his teeth and smirks. "I've got enough dirt on you that you're gonna want to be nice to me." I scrunch up my nose and pout.
"You start telling my secrets and no more belly for you!" I grin devilishly and rub my expanding belly. His eyes grow wide and he darts into the bathroom. Moments later he's rushing out and giving me a warning look.
"That belly is half mine!" he objects and stalks toward me. I scoot back on the bed and put a pillow over my mid-frame. It doesn't do much to hide it, but I'm running out of things to cover ye old belly.
"Nu uh, pal," I smirk and hold the pillow tight against me. "That baby is half yours. The belly is all mine." Brad reaches out and removes the pillow. He leans in and I can feel his breath on my neck.
"Are you going to stop me from getting some cuddle time with my belly, pretty girl?" I giggle and nod my head. Being in love with Brad hasn't been all romance and hot sex. Actually, it's been mostly bickering, gas, and back pains; but we're in it together.
Slowly, he leans me back on the bed and he lies down beside me and places his hand on my baby bump. I try to smack him away but he leans in and bites my ear.
"Did you just bite me?" I ask, because really?
"Did you just hit me?" he retorts.
I shake my head slowly and smile at him. I feel a rumble in the depths of my belly and my face heats up. This has been happening on the regular the past few weeks, but it doesn't make every gassy incident any less embarrassing. But then something unexpected happens.
Just as I'm preparing to embarrass myself and send Brad running for fresh air, I feel movement, like a swishing, and then pressure from the outside in, just under Brad's hand. I'm silent, unsure if I should say anything. But then it happens again. Brad is frozen, eyes fixed on my belly where his hand lie, and a smile on his face. The baby kicked. I start crying immediately.
The past few months have been an emotional mess to say the least. From my birthday on, I've been experiencing things that bring even more tears to my eyes. For so long I had wanted to love and be loved in return, and I had been at a point where I didn't think it would happen for me. I had given up and quit going out. I had given myself over to work, and had accepted that my days and nights would consist of pleadings and correspondence, and summons, and The Toad.
But when I had given up and thought that I wouldn't find whatever it was I had been missing, I did. And even more, I found it in the one person I never expected: Bradley Patrick.
And he's here with me and our baby. The baby I thought I wasn't having. The baby I thought was all second-serving weight and depression. The baby that didn't bring us or keep us together; but is now so integral to who we are that it's unimaginable that he or she not be here: our baby.
Brad holds me and I think I hear him sniffle, but I don't bring it up. I'm always amazed and caught off guard when he's as moved by this pregnancy as I am. For such a tough guy, he's a big softy.
"Someone loves their daddy," I whisper and hiccup. He kisses my forehead. We stay like that for a few more minutes before Brad pulls away. If we don't get a move on we're going to be late for our doctor's appointment with the OBGYN.
Slowly but surely, Brad helps me get my shoes on. The man is a great cop, but he's also a pretty darn good husband. And I'm just happy that his toe is all healed up. He sure is a damn baby when he's not feeling well.
I HATE THE OBGYN. Dr. Roth is a lovely woman, she really is; but damn it to hell, I don't think she's ever warmed her hands up before an exam. In addition, those plastic gloves she wears aren't exactly warm, either. So every exam I feel like I'm being poked and prodded by the ice cream man. It's unnerving. That wasn’t even the hard part, though. When Dr. Roth explained the increased risks associated with babies born to women my age, I freaked out and couldn’t breathe. Brad was able to eventually calm me down by telling Dr. Roth that we didn’t want to hear anymore.
This is our baby, will always be our baby, and we don’t give a damn what risks are associated with the pregnancy. Nothing is going to stop us from having our baby. And I loved him so much in that moment; I didn’t know what to do with myself. Dr. Roth has tried to do her duty as my doctor to prepare us for the big, scary stuff. But neither of us want to hear it. This baby is wanted and loved and for us, that’s all that matters.