Jayna and I didn't fight often, and when and if we did, it didn't last long. We both would quickly forget why we were upset and it would be back to as if it didn't even happen. It was almost impossible to stay mad at her and well, I guess she felt the same.
In the beginning of our relationship, our miniscule arguments were over time. She always felt we didn't spend enough time together, even though we did work together and spent time in between classes together. Then would start the bickering about whose place to stay the night at. Her place, where she had a messy roommate and loud neighbors; or my place where it was spotless and quiet. Usually one of us would cave to make sure the other one was happy, most times that was me. There were a few nights I showed up to her dorm at one in the morning, hoping to make everything better and erase her anger. When it came to her, my pride was set aside. I didn't mind taking the blame as long as she wouldn't stay mad.
We had our disagreements as any couple would, but we were good at compromising, that was until she got pregnant. From the moment she conceived started the emotional roller coaster that would test not only my patience but my sanity as well.
Jayna didn't cry often unless they were tears of joy. I remember, clear as day, the first time I upset her to the point of tears. To this day it shouldn't have been such a big deal or something I should recall so well. As I stared at Jayna's bucket list and wiped my eyes, I chuckled a bit, reflecting on that night. That led to number eighteen on her bucket list. The last thing listed, just above her dying wishes.
By the time Jayna hit her second trimester of pregnancy, the morning sickness began to fade and the nausea started to subside. She was finally in the mood to go out to eat. We were both excited to check out a new steak house in town.
I waited patiently for Jayna to get ready, then after an hour of my stomach eating itself, I grew antsy. I walked into the bedroom to find out what was taking her so long. I opened the door and there she was, in her bra and panties, sitting on the floor. Clothes were scattered about on the floor and bed but my attention went back to her. My eyes found her belly, which was now starting to round, then to her breasts which were fuller, she was glowing and beautiful. As I inched closer to her, I could see her bottom lip poked out and her eyebrows scrunched up.
"Sweetheart?" I leaned down, placing my hand on her back.
"I don't wanna go!" She huffed.
I looked around the room at all the clothes, wondering if that had anything to do with it.
"Is there a reason?"
"I have nothing to wear Caleb! I am so flipping fat!"
I laughed, "You are not fat," I assured her, "Didn't we just spend a fortune on maternity clothes?" I didn't want to upset her anymore, but surely she had something to wear.
"They are too big and my other clothes are too small. I don't feel like going if I can't find something to wear," she said, crossing her arms over her chest.
I stood up and started rummaging through her clothes. She had a pair of black yoga pants I knew she wore around the house. She always talked about how comfortable they were. I found them and searched for a loose t-shirt that wouldn't fit too tight. I returned back with the perfect outfit. Well the most comfortable anyways. I held the outfit out towards her.
"What's that?" She asked, grabbing the items to examine.
"Clothes to wear," I answered her.
"She held up the t-shirt and pants, "Are you kidding me? You want to take me out looking like a hobo, Caleb?!"
