Baby Can I Upgrade You?

25. Guestroom

Jaden

"Well, everything is looking good. Baby is doing great under the circumstances," the blonde technician informs us as she slides a device over Imani's glistening belly, projecting our baby on the black and white monitor. Hearing my son's strong heartbeat echoing throughout the room makes my heart swell with happiness. I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding, and I kiss the hand of the mother of my child which is tightly clasped in my own. "Congratulations on making it to eight months, honey." She gives Imani a kind smile.

"Thanks, Sandra," Imani thanks the older woman with a smile. "We'll take two copies." A knowing look flashes across the woman's face as she hands Imani a paper towel. 

She goes off to get the printouts of our sonogram, so I help Imani to sit up and she wipes the gel off her round belly. Once her belly is clean, I bend over and give it a kiss before she drops her top back over it. I look up to find Imani looking at me strangely, and I sheepishly mouth an apology. I'm still learning our new boundaries.

"Hmm..." she groans as she arches her back, rubbing the side of her belly.

"Are you okay? What's wrong." I ask frantically as I look her over, not sure what to do.

"I'm fine. Your son just thinks my womb is a soccer field," she drawls out as she rubs the area I assume he has just kicked her in. I can't help but feel proud. It means he's strong and healthy. 

"That's my boy!" A broad smile stretches on my lips, and I tentatively lay a hand on her belly. Imani doesn't pull away, and that makes me happy.

"You wouldn't be so proud if he was kicking your balls around!" she grumbles like an angry child, and I can't help but laugh. I quickly shut up when she sends me a death glare. "Anyway, let's go so I can go get this shot and go home. I'm tired." 

I help Imani off the hospital bed, and we walk across to the nurse’s station. I help her onto the bed, and she sits bent forward, holding my hand. The nurse pulls out a shockingly long syringe with clear liquid. Matron Shelly cleans a bruised area on Imani's lower back with an alcohol swab and then tells Imani to take a deep breath. She does as instructed, and the nurses pierce her skin with the giant needle. As she pushes the needle deeper into her flesh, Imani whimpers and squeezes my hand tightly. Although I can't see her face as she's buried it against my chest, I know she is in pain, and I wish I could take her place right now. 

"Shhh, it's almost over," I say soothingly to Imani as I stroke my free hand over her upper back.

"Alright, honey, it's over," the dark-haired matron announces as she pulls the needle out of Imani's now swollen flesh. "Remember to drink lots of liquids and get plenty of rest," she advises with a pat on Imani’s shoulder.

"Will do, Matron Shelly. Thank you," Imani speaks softly, and I help her off the bed. "Thank God that was the last one!" Relief fills her voice as we leave her doctor's practice.

I don't like that she's had to get such painful injections that leave angry bruises on her lower back, but Imani explained that they were steroids that help with her condition and with maturing our son's lungs faster so even if she goes into early labor, he will still be okay. The ride home isn't that long, but Imani doesn't make it all the way and falls into a deep sleep. I can't help but steal glances at her as she sleeps peacefully with light snores coming from her nose. Her decadent skin glows beautifully in the afternoon light, and her plump lips are fuller than I remember. I want to so badly kiss her, but I know we're not there yet.

When we get to her house, I decide not to wake Imani and lift her out of the car. Her pregnancy weight requires more effort from me to lift, but I don't mind. I carefully deposit her on the couch and bring down a blanket from her room. I cover her body and place a soft kiss on her forehead which makes her stir. I freeze in place. When she doesn't wake, I tip toe away slowly.

I go back out to my car and pick up my bag full of clothes which I dump in the guest room. I've decided to leave some clothes here for when I do sleepover which is becoming a more frequent occurrence. Although it's not a permanent arrangement yet, Imani has agreed to me moving some of my stuff in so I can be here for her on days like these when the pregnancy completely tuckers her out, and she needs someone to make sure she eats and rests sufficiently. 

I love taking care of Imani and our son. It makes me feel like I am a good man and father. It also makes me feel closer to Imani. I hope she feels like she can trust me again and that I am repairing some of the damage caused. It could take days, months, or even years, but I'm willing to grind as long as I have to to win my woman back. She is worth it. Our family is worth it.

I may be in the guest room now, but I will make it back to the master!