Nova's Universe

Chapter 8 (1996)

Nova

"Love, give me a hand here," Charlie pleaded as we were sitting on the living room sofa, his voice laced with bewildered frustration.

The sight tickled my funny bone. "What's got you in such a tangle?" I giggled. We were in my childhood home for the past week, a strategic move by Charlie to be close to the hospital when the baby decided to make its grand entrance. He was wrestling with a thick book about childbirth, holding it upside down and tilting his head at an impossible angle to decipher the pictures. I, on the other hand, had opted for a different kind of education – watching cartoons.

The prospect of devouring pregnancy manuals filled me with dread. Nerves were already simmering, and the thought of reading about my lady bits contorting to deliver a watermelon-sized baby sent my stomach churning. My mum had recently acquired a telly, and I'd embraced my inner Muggle, seeking comfort in the mindless entertainment of a cartoon cat chasing after a terrified mouse. Occasionally, I'd break my TV trance to answer Charlie's questions.

"It's the birthing canal, Char," I explained with a chuckle, snatching the book from his grasp and flipping it the right way up.

"Oh," Charlie mumbled. He tilted his head ever so slightly, mirroring his earlier position. "Huh."

"Fascinating, isn't it?" I teased.

He blinked at the illustration before cautiously turning the page. Suddenly, a gasp escaped my lips.

"What's wrong? What is it?" Charlie shot up, tossing the book aside in his panic.

"Oh no, not again!" I exclaimed, pointing frantically at the TV screen. "I thought Tom was finally going to catch him!"

A bewildered expression washed over Charlie's face. "Catch who?"

"Jerry! The mouse! He was so close to getting him this time!"

Charlie heaved a sigh of relief, the tension visibly draining from his shoulders. "Oh, Nova! I thought something was happening with the baby."

Ever since we'd moved in with Mum, Charlie had been a nervous wreck, even more so than me. The impending arrival of our first child had him buzzing with excitement, barely able to contain it. Every sigh, gasp, or even a deep breath from me sent him into overdrive, convinced it was time to rush me to the hospital.

"For the hundredth time, Charlie," I said gently, "if it were baby-related, you'd be the first to know. Just like every time I need the loo or the baby decides to have a disco in my belly."

"Anyone up for dinner?" Mum's voice filled the living room as she leaned against the doorway, a warm smile on her face.

"Yes, please!" Charlie practically shouted, his eyes lighting up. His nerves had manifested in a two-week-long case of the munchies.

"We can whip up some pancakes or scramble some eggs," Mum offered. "Up to you."

"Pancakes it is!" Charlie declared, practically bouncing off the sofa. He shot my mum a grateful smile, planted a quick kiss on my lips, and disappeared into the kitchen.

"It's cute how excited he is," Mum chuckled, settling down beside me.

"Yeah," I agreed, a smile gracing my lips. "He's enough for both of us at this point. I'm about ready to pop!"

"Can't wait to meet your baby, can you?" Mum wrapped an arm around me, drawing me closer.

"It's nerve-wracking, knowing it could happen any minute," I admitted with a sigh. Talking about my anxieties with someone other than Charlie felt like a pressure valve releasing. He was already on edge, and I didn't want to burden him further.