Red ~ TWD (Daryl Dixon)

Mazel Tov

My eyes flew open, and I threw back the quilt, launching myself out of bed like a rocket.  I slapped a hand over my mouth like it might somehow buy me the time I needed to stumble to the bathroom.  I'd just managed to skid to a stop in front of the porcelain god when last night's dinner made a second appearance.  Closing my eyes, I gripped the toilet with white knuckles as saliva and bile flooded my mouth, my stomach contracting painfully a split second before the burn of acid tore at my throat. 

I was glued to the toilet for a few minutes after my body was finished exercising the demons, otherwise known as "morning sickness".  I'd made the mistake of leaving too soon only once, and Daryl's boots had paid the price. 

"Brought ya some tea."

Sweeping my long hair out of my face I glanced up my husband.  He was watching me with concerned eyes bordering on outright apprehension.  I eyed the cup in his hand with disdain.  I hated tea. 

"By tea, do you mean coffee?"

He watched me get to my feet and hastily brush my teeth.  He'd been doing that a lot lately, watching me like any moment something might happen.  I now knew what animals in the zoo must feel like.  It was killing him not to be able to do anything, to fix it.  It didn't matter how many times I told him this was normal he wasn't convinced. 

"Ya know what Siddiq said, too much caffeine ain't good for ya."

Rounding on him I thrust my toothbrush in his face like a weapon.  "You know what else isn't good for me?"  Daryl had the good sense to keep his big, fat mouth shut.  "Puking my guts out morning, noon, and night.  That's not good for me!  They should call it all day fucking sickness!"

Talk about false advertising.

Sid hosted a "What to Expect When Expecting" class a few months ago.  He painstakingly explained every aspect of pregnancy and just about every possibly delivery scenario known to man.  Out of everyone in the room I probably should have been paying the most attention.  Deadpool and Rick already had their childbirth merit badges, but after the first hours my eyes glazed over.  By hour two I was imagining different escape routes.  Not that I needed to pay attention, Daryl was so laser focused on the young doctor I don't think he blinked or breathed the entire time.  At least one of us was prepared.

Before I stopped pretending to listen, I remembered him mentioning morning sickness, how it was common, nothing to worry about, and normally abated by the end of the first trimester.  Well, I was officially in my second trimester and still upchucking like a college chic on spring break.

"Where's Chief Ramhorn?"

Daryl gestured vaguely behind him.  "With Lil' Asskicker." 

I needed to get my life together.  The fact my dog liked Nugget more than me made me want to cry or kill someone.  Since I wasn't allowed to kill people unless I had a really good reason crying was going to have to do.

"We got an appointment with Sid this mornin'," Daryl said softly, trying to talk me off the proverbial ledge.

Another joy of creating life were raging mood swings courtesy of the billion hormones fighting for dominance in my body.  One second I was absolutely livid and the next I couldn't turn off the waterworks.  Yesterday Billy Ray Cyrus announced he had fixed the solar power and I cried for an hour in our closet.

Sinking onto the bed I held my face in my hands.  "I feel like a crazy person."

The bed dipped when he sat down beside me, his muscular arm pulling me against his muscular chest.  "Ya ain't crazy.  Yur pregnant."