Mimeomia

26 | motherhood

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

MOTHERHOOD

( — the state of being a mother; maternity. )

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

          MICHAELA THOUGHT SHE WAS OVER REFERRING TO HERSELF AS A COWARD. She truly believed she was stronger than this, but, instead, she has found herself not having the courage to pick up the phone and return her parents' texts or phone calls, despite knowing she can't keep getting away with it for much longer.

          They've obviously met quite often during the past two months, even if their schedules have kept them so busy they had to cancel their weekly lunches and turn them into impromptu ones on days all three of them were available to meet up. The problem is that Michaela has, surprisingly, been doing an excellent job of keeping her pregnancy a secret from them, having never been happier about the distance they still keep between them.

          Astounded would probably be the best word to use to describe Michaela's current state of mind. Yvonne might let some things slide past her radar, but Ulysses is trained to see the details most people ignore, and Michaela expected him to be the first to notice something isn't quite right with her. They have their suspicions, as she doesn't dare touch alcoholic beverages, eats a lot more during meals, and refuses coffee, but she's certain they don't know the exact reason behind her strange behavior.

          Their attempts at communicating with her have grown more frequent and Michaela just knows all hell will break loose as soon as she answers one of them. Nevertheless, it's still strangely comforting to know they almost certainly think all these changes are work-related, as it's the only thing that ever pops up in conversations, and Michaela is relieved she can talk to them about one aspect of her life.

          Everything else is secondary, it seems.

          Right now, it's five in the morning on a Saturday and Michaela lies in bed, wide awake. It's the third time in two nights she has been woken up by a churning stomach and barely made it to the bathroom in time to empty all its contents. It only happens at night, never during the day, which has made it easier to conceal her pregnancy from curious eyes, but it also means she barely gets any sleep.

          Nothing good ever happens at this time of the night—or of the morning, depending on how you want to look at things—and she hates to admit she's in pain, especially so early during the pregnancy, but part of her fears there might be something awfully wrong, something the doctors haven't detected. The first trimester is the most dangerous one, where anything that can go wrong has a high chance of happening, and all Michaela wants is to get through it unscathed.

          Sitting up, she wipes the sweat from her face with her sleeve, knowing she won't be able to fall asleep again, even if she should stay in bed. Coffee won't save her, and things will remain that way for the next seven months, meaning she has to rely on a proper night of sleep alone, but she doesn't even want to think about how things will be once the baby is born and wakes up in the middle of the night, bawling its lungs out.

          Her chest is on fire, and everything hurts, from the roots of her hair to her heels, courtesy of achy muscles and swollen joints that leave her feeling like a stuffed turkey for Thanksgiving, which definitely isn't the nicest analogy her brain could be making. Even worse—it's May, with the weather growing warmer, and it's not rare for Michaela to wake up at two, three in the morning, drenched in her own sweat.