a.n// If any of this is wrong forgive me, I've never been pregnant!
Jack
"Please, please, please," I beg, in a voice so low you could hardly classify it as a whisper. I had snuck out of bed to go ask for a favor. I look up at the stars, connecting all the constellations I know in my head.
Beatrice and I- and don't laugh- have been trying for our first baby. We've had some issues just as her Mom did, and have gone through a few trials of negative pregnancy tests and months of tracking when she's ovulating. Forgive me for taking so long but I just can't handle the soft look of disappointment on her face with each singular line on a test.
So here I am. If it worked for Lennon it could work for me too.
I go back to bed feeling like I did something but also walking away without encountering something amazing. Like if there was a shooting star maybe I'd feel a bit more fulfilled, but there was nothing out of the ordinary. I lock the balcony doors and pull the covers up as I sneak back into them. My beautiful wife stirs in bed, turning around to snuggle herself into my body.
I press a kiss to her forehead lacing it with a promise that our time is coming. I hope for her to not feel horribly discouraged but she can't help it. I notice her red-rimmed eyes when she comes out of a restroom and brushes it off by saying she's just feeling a little under the weather. I'm letting go and letting the moon and stars handle it.
The morning is just as every other morning, we journal together over some breakfast and feed our cats. We've developed some sort of rhythm where we know the other person so well that we rarely collide. If we're both in the kitchen I can manage to slip behind her before she turns around and goes where I just was. We're just in sync.
But moments before leaving for work, like as we're about to get a grip on the door handle to leave she drops her bags on the couch and makes a beeline for the restroom. Fear erupts through my body, dropping my gear as I follow closely behind her. She drops to her knees harshly, making me wince at the sound of her bones hitting the green marble floor.
I almost want to scold her but decide it's not the time for that. I loosely grab her curled hair not wanting to ruin her perfectly done hair but wanting to get it out of her face as she hurls her morning's breakfast into the toilet. My initial thought is maybe we had something expired but as I rub her back the bottom of her shirt begins to rise.
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"Holy fuck," I whisper to myself, as I stare up at the ceiling. This is it, isn't it? Once she's finished she yanks on the silver knob, letting everything disappear. She backs away from the toilet, leaning up against the closest wall, looking drained. I don't know many pregnant women nor do I ask how their experience was, but I didn't think it would be like this.
I want a baby but I don't want the love of my life to feel this way. I feel her forehead with the back of my hand and notice she's a bit warm. "I'm going to take you to bed and call in for you, okay?" I tell her, not even mentioning the fact that she could be pregnant until we can properly talk about this. I pick her up bridal style, carefully making my way up the stairs.
