Never Giving Up (Never #3)(20)
“So, what names have you picked out?” Her eyes swung like a pendulum back and forth between Ella and me.
“We haven’t really gotten that far yet,” Ella said with a laugh.
“Well, you’ve got some time yet. When are you due?”
“The middle of August.”
“A summer baby! How exciting! Oh! We’ll have a baby here by Christmas!” She seemed to get lost in a flurry of thoughts all-things-baby. It was entertaining to watch. “Halloween, too! We could dress the baby up as a little pumpkin or a pea pod!” She went on and on like that for a few more minutes, but then, thankfully, our food arrived. We ate and talked about baby stuff, my mom asking Ella all about things like diapers, nursery décor, if Ella wanted to be a stay-at-home mom—all questions Ella had the perfect answers for.
When we left, Ella had plans with my mom for baby shopping the next week and I was exhausted. I had never seen my mother talk or smile so much. Not surprisingly, telling my mom she was going to be a grandma had been exactly as I would have imagined it. But all the excitement left me dragging.
“I think this momma needs a nap,” I heard from Ella. I looked over at her, a little bemused that she’d read my mind and caught her running her hand lightly over her belly, gently breezing over a baby bump that hadn’t quite formed yet. My heart caught in my throat, its pulse beating loudly in my ears. She looked so beautiful in that moment, the ocean behind her through the window, the hand with her wedding ring lovingly caressing our child’s home for the next 7 months.
“I love you.” The words came out of my mouth before I even realized I’d opened it.
Her gaze slowly shifted to me, her blonde hair falling over one shoulder to sway behind her back, her wedding ring still resting on her belly.
“I love you too.” Smiling, she added, “but I still need a nap.”
I laughed. “Good idea. I’ll take one with you.”
We made it home and she went straight up the stairs. She peeled her clothes off as she made her way across our bedroom, heading for the enormous king sized bed we shared. She crawled in, wearing only her panties, and pulled every blanket we owned up around her. She took my pillows, made a nest of sorts, and wiggled around until she finally turned to me and asked sweetly, “Do you think you could get me a glass of water?”
I smiled at her request. Surely, only a terrible man would make her unravel herself from her fortress to get her own glass of water. I walked towards the bathroom but was stopped by her voice again.
“Actually, Babe, would you mind getting it from the kitchen?”
I looked at her, a little puzzled. “Um, sure. No problem.”
“Thanks. The bathroom water tastes different than the kitchen water.” She turned back over, snuggling in again, and I started towards the door. “Oh! And could you make sure you put ice in the cup?”
I laughed. “Sure. Iced kitchen water. Coming right up.” I went down the stairs and prepared her water, as requested, and grabbed a pillow off the couch on my way. In my head I thanked Ella for adding some feminine touches to my house when she’d moved in, otherwise I would have no pillow to nap with.
“One ice cold, kitchen water just for you,” I said as I entered. Only, Ella didn’t move. I walked around the bed and found her fast asleep. I placed the glass on her bedside table and then moved a lock of hair from her face and behind her ear. She didn’t even budge at my touch, didn’t stir, did nothing but sleep. So I walked to my side of the bed, laid down with my head on my pillow from the couch, and tried not to let the chill bother me because I didn’t see a way to sneak any of the blankets away from her.
I fell asleep next to my wife, quite possibly the happiest I had ever been.
“You’re sure I don’t look like a float in a parade?” I kept turning from side to side in front of the mirror, trying to see my body from all angles.
“I’m not really sure what you’re asking me, but you look fine.”
I shot my husband a ‘you’re not helping’ glare. “Fine? I don’t look fine. I look fat.”
“There’s no way anyone would look at you and think you’re fat.”
I was fifteen weeks pregnant and I was stuck in the Fat Zone. I didn’t look pregnant. My belly hadn’t taken on any particular roundness, but I definitely had a bulge. I loved my bump—Porter really loved my bump—but it didn’t say “I’m pregnant!” Instead, it screamed “I ate an entire pizza by myself!” Tonight was Megan’s bachelorette party and I had squeezed myself into one of my previously looser dresses, only to find that it had transformed into a sausage casing.
“I hate the way I look right now.” I wasn’t above whining. I watched in the mirror as he came up behind me. He placed his hands on my hips and rested his chin on my shoulder. His words tickled my ear and I took just a moment to breathe in the wonderful scent of wood and soap that lingered on his skin.
His hands slid over the fabric of my dress, slowly sliding to the front of me, running smoothly over the tiny hill on my belly that held our child.
“You look beautiful. Anyone who sees you will know you’re pregnant. You’re glowing. You’ve never been more beautiful.”
His words went a little ways to making me feel better, but I was a little more focused on how much he liked me being pregnant. The moment my body started changing, from my bigger boobs to my swollen belly, he was extra attentive to it. I couldn’t complain really—Porter could pay my body as much attention as he wanted and I’d always be more than ok with it. But as much as I loved his personal and private adoration of my new body, it didn’t always make up for the fact that I wasn’t used to having this much extra belly.