OUR FIGHT

5 • he wants me, he wants me not [part 2]

I struggle to fall asleep all night. Although my eyelids feel like they're supporting bricks, the weight of my heart keeps me tossing and turning until the sun peeks through the window.

By six in the morning, my cheeks are streaked with mascara and I don't need a mirror to know I look like a raccoon on crack. My eyes are so puffy that the skin below stings when I touch it. I don't know how long I've been crying; at some point in the night, I became numb to the feeling, letting them fall down my face silently.

It sucks that I'm pissed at the person I turn to every time I have a meltdown. I want nothing more than to wrap my whole body around his and taste the solace his lips offer.

But of course, he decides to be an asshole during the time I need him most. I contemplate snotting on his side of the bed as karma. If he comes to his senses by tonight then I'll clean the sheets, but if he doesn't... well, he's in for a treat!

While I lay alone in our bed, I can't tear my eyes away from his side. Right now it's cold and empty, but I don't envision it that way. Instead, I imagine Saxon laying there right next to me. I imagine him barely awake as he caresses my belly adoringly. He kisses my belly, then me, and repeat. He tells me he can't wait to become a father, and he'll love our baby more than anything in the world. He'll always be there... for us.

However, my fantasy might not come true. He's made it clear what he thinks of our unborn baby. I just wish we talked more about having children beforehand... if we had maybe we wouldn't be fighting right now.

Around eight o'clock, I give up trying to fall asleep. With a groan, I sit up with my phone and decide to browse through a blog that centralizes around things expecting mothers need to have by the time they're due. I look at everything from breast pumps to strollers. Although I'm nowhere near giving birth, I screenshot each list to reference later. For the first time all night I smile; I'm super excited to begin preparing for the arrival of our baby.

Just as I'm about to click on a link about the best strollers for newborns, I'm slapped in the gut with nausea. It builds up more as it rises hastily, and once I feel it in my throat I know there's no stopping it this time.

"Oh, no," I gag and clamp my hand over my mouth as I fly out of bed and into the bathroom. I collapse onto my knees and vomit into the toilet.

Holding my own hair back, I stay hunched over for several minutes as the nausea comes and goes. Once I manage to cough out the rest, I flush the toilet with a grimace.

"Gross," I grumble, wiping an area of vomit off of the seat with toilet paper.

I hate throwing up with a passion. The sounds I make while doing it, the smell, and the feeling afterward are so disgusting. Although I've been feeling nauseous for a little while now, this is the first time I've actually thrown up... and I'm sure this won't be the last time. I guess I'm not one of the lucky pregnant women who don't have to deal with morning sickness. Unfortunately, it's impossible for me to be that lucky.

After completing my morning routine, which this specific morning involves brushing my teeth for ten minutes and combing out the rat's nest on top of my head, I change into a peach spaghetti-strapped romper that exposes the majority of my back. I don't even bother with makeup. I realize that in a couple of months I won't be able to fit in this outfit, which sucks because it's one of my favorites. I'll have to search for a maternity version online later.

Satisfied with my appearance, I start for the kitchen. When I'm just down the hallway I hear voices already in there. Great. I know I'll have to face Saxon at some point, but now that I'm seconds away from doing so, I am slightly freaking out.