Falling - Tom Holland imagine

Chapter 41

Another day yet another midwife appointment. I was so close to bursting it was ridiculous. My bump had finally dropped down into my pelvic cavity, allowing me a little more room to both breathe and eat and on an internal examination my cervix was beginning to efface and I was told to watch out for the mucus plug coming away as that was a sign of labour on its way in the next few days. Tom pulled a grossed out face. I wanted it done now though. But another day passed and no change.

It was now the end of May and I was grumpy. I'd snapped at Nikki the previous week when she'd broached our birthday and what we wanted "These bloody children out of me!" was not the answer she was looking for, and I'd shamefaced called her later that evening to apologise, but she laughed it off understanding how hard this whole 8 plus months had been on me and my body, saying she'd make us some cake and pop round to drop a few things off and we could celebrate properly after the birth when I could enjoy a glass of something alcoholic.

I was really restless, that night, tossing and turning, well trying to - my body was too big to manage that anymore - it was like trying to stop an oil tanker - at least 5 miles notice needed. I lay there, hot and uncomfortable, irritable to the point that I just wanted to smack Tom in the face with a pillow at the faint sound of his snores, which normally I found both adorable and comforting, but not tonight. Tonight it was like auditory sandpaper scratching away at my last nerve. By 4 am I was up for the day, and the early part of it I spent wiping down the kitchen cabinets, rocking back and forth to ease the pressure in my back, hoping to blackmail Tom into giving me a back rub later. He'd do it happily but I was in the mood to make him feel guilty about keeping me up all night. Rationality had long since left me. 

By the time Tom came down the stairs rubbing charmingly at his eyes as he yawned, bedhead curls all over, faint hint of stubble around his mouth, his boxers, riding up his muscled legs and dipping down over his v line, I had already cleaned the kitchen and was reorganising his extensive dvd collection as it was too early to hoover. "Darling, what are you doing?" He asked concerned once he had opened his eyes enough to take in what I was doing.

"Sorting this mess out" I indicated the stacks of dvds around me as I organised them alphabetically "its been irritating me for weeks, and there's no better time we won't have any time in a few weeks" as he stood there bemused at my vigorous tidying before shaking it off recalling the advice his dad had given him a few weeks back - to just agree at this late stage of pregnancy unless its dangerous - if you don't want to end up sleeping on the sofa anyway.

I happily organised away, taking short breaks to stretch my back out, I guessed the pregnancy pillow just wasn't cutting it anymore. Tom brought me a plate of celery sticks, but I spat it out after one bite. Nope. Not today. I looked sadly at the once appetising snack, my passion for it was gone, looks like boring toast on the cards.

It was a strange day. I wanted to go out and get away from the confines of the house, but also didn't want to leave - feeling the itch to finally hoover the floors, but Tom stopped me as I headed to scrub the bathroom - that apparently was where he drew the line and took my supplies off me, cleaning it himself as I watched from my perch on the bed. The arrival of a handful of birthday cards for us both distracted me slightly and I was folding and refolding the sofa blankets when he came back downstairs. 

Distracting me with my favourite takeaway - a pre birthday treat, the afternoon passed and I managed to settle enough to watch most of Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban curled into Toms shoulder; plus I'd puppydogged my way into getting him to give me a long back rub, across my lower back which was aching from the weight of the babies, who were more active than ever, despite the distinct lack of room for them to do so! After my 18th trip to pee - I was counting, I got Tom to put on the Goblet of Fire and began to watch. It was near the end that he was drooping, so I pushed him gently and told him to head to bed, but I was going to stay up as I felt all antsy and on edge and knew sleep was going to be in short supply for me that night; however he was adamant he'd stay with me. 15 minutes into the Order of the Phoenix he was snoring lightly, head propped up on the armrest as I draped a blanket over his lithe form, ignoring his sleepy grumbles, as I continued my pacing, trying to work off the energy and ease my aches. I had my suspicions.