And yet, I’m just an angry, angry bird now, watching the seconds tick by on the clock while I still don’t go into labour. At least if I could sleep the hours away, that would make the time go by quicker. Only, I can’t get a decent sleep because I have to get up and pee every couple of hours on account of the fact that the space allotted for my bladder right now is equivalent to the size of a grain of rice.
Arthur and I are currently in the back of the limo on the way to Dr. Dropp's office. Arthur, who has been forced to bring a stack of paperwork with him, is busy working away while I sit and stew. Right now, I couldn’t find a Zen state if it was on a map and I had GPS. I’m a miserable, snappy beast. I find myself very short with everyone around me, then right after, I feel so guilty I get very teary and feel just awful about how bitchy I just was…right up to the exact moment someone pisses me off again. Then Rage-Filled Princess Tessa makes another appearance.
I stare out the window at all the Christmas decorations going up around the city, trying to think of something nice to say. I suppose I’m glad to be in the cool air-conditioned backseat of the limo, but I also feel sort of guilty because it’s the first week of December and Arthur keeps blowing on his hands while he works. When I ask if he wants it adjusted, he says he wouldn’t dream of it and that he’s fine, but I have a feeling that is a lie. A smart one.
The truth is, deep down I’m both terrified and filled with regret. I keep asking myself how the frick I’m going to look after two babies and continue my royal duties without the help of a nanny. And I’m coming up totally blank. My only hope is my parents’ house takes a few more years to be built so the babies will be in nursery school by the time I’m left to handle things on my own. But that’s not going to happen, and I know it. The contractor told them they should be in there by January 1st. I haven’t told Arthur I secretly want them to stay, and I won’t. Not after spending the past several months complaining about them and telling him how badly I wish they’d leave.
Why did I have to open my big mouth about the nannies? Why, Tessa, why?
I can’t go back on it now. Not if I ever want to be able to face the public, or my brothers again for that matter. Hmm…that suddenly doesn’t sound so bad.
But before I can get to failing at being a mum, I’m going to have to go through the whole birth thing, and the thought of that is unimaginably scary. Ever since I watched Brooke’s not-so-smooth labour on the telly the other night, I’ve been freaked the feck out. Seeing the pain she was in, even though she’d done everything right, scared the bejeezus out of me. I mean, she prepped her cervix (whatever the hell that means), meditated, ate an incredibly strict diet, and kept up with her intense yoga practice, while I’ve pretty much just sat around eating and trying not to think about the delivery part of motherhood. If she wasn’t ready, I’m totally screwed.
The worst part is, I’m supposed to be Graceful In-Labour Princess Tessa, only giving dainty little puffs of air during contractions, followed by serene smiles and polite requests for ice chips. If I’m anything short of that, the hospital staff will spend the rest of their lives telling everyone they meet how I swore like a sailor and screamed at Arthur when I was in labour. This is one of those moments in life when I wish no one knew who I was. I miss the freedom of anonymity.
I do have one last hope I’m clinging to, however. It’s a long shot, but if it works, I swear I’ll go back to being Happy, Calm Princess Tessa for the duration of this pregnancy.
When we arrive at Dr. Dropp's office, we’re told that there will be about a forty-five-minute wait. Slutty nurse offers Arthur refreshments, completely forgetting about me. Not in the mood to be ignored or overlooked, I clear my throat to draw her attention.
“I would kill for a glass of water right now.”
I'm pretty sure the look on my face is showing her there are other things I would kill for as well because she shrinks back from my husband and gives me a little nod.
“One water coming right up.”
One of my fellow pregos smiles up at me from behind her magazine. “I can't believe you're here. Are you a patient of Dr. Dropp's as well?”
Oh, a real Sherlock Holmes, if ever there was one. “Yes.” I nod. “She’s delivered all of my family's babies since my mother and father started having children.”
“She's wonderful, isn't she?”
I nod and smile.
Another woman looks up from her iPad and says, “So, is this your first baby?” She directs the question to the pleasant woman across from me.
The unsuspecting woman nods enthusiastically.
“Well, you'll be so glad to have Dr. Dropp when the time comes. So many things can go wrong once you're in the birthing room. For my first one, I insisted on no drugs whatsoever even though Dr. Dropp had suggested I consider some on account of my very tiny cervix. It's a good thing she was there because in the end, I ended up ripping all the way from —”
“You know what?” I hold my hand up at the woman. “That really isn't necessary. Each time I come in to this office, there’s someone like you who wants to share their horror stories about the birth of their own child. I don't find the information helpful, quite frankly, and I'm not exactly sure what you're hoping to achieve by scaring our young friend here. But if you don't mind, perhaps we could keep the conversation a little more positive.”
Slutty nurse, who seems to have a good nose for trouble, calls me for my turn. Within a few minutes, Arthur and I are settled in Dr. Dropp's exam room with me sitting up on the table in a stupid paper gown that at this point actually won't close around my giant arse.
Arthur gives me a grin. “I like Third Trimester Tessa. You’re fierce…like a Bengal tiger.”
“I am. And you know what I realized?” I hold up one finger in the air, hoping I can be taken at least somewhat seriously in this ridiculous outfit, which inexplicably has me both freezing and sweating at the same time. “I don't think I want to have a normal birth like everyone else after all. It really wouldn’t be fair.”
Taking a deep breath, I continue. “Most moms don't have to deal with all the extra criticism that I do. Of course, they all have family and friends who’ll tell them they're screwing up every step of the way, but they certainly don't have the press following them or every special interest group from Breast is Best to the Midwifery Association of Avonia knocking down their door, asking them to become a spokesperson for their cause and then turning on them if they refuse!” I inhale again, trying to calm down. “Because of that, I've decided I'd like to avoid the whole birth part of this process.”
Arthur gives me a confused yet slightly amused expression.
I continue talking before he can put his size ten foot in his mouth. “Remember when we were watching The Crown the other day? And Queen Elizabeth was having Prince Andrew?”
“You don’t mean that creepy twilight nap thing?”
“Twilight sleep. It's called a twilight sleep, and I'd like to bring that back.”
“I'm not sure they do that anymore, darling.”
The ‘don't fuck with me’ look on my face causes him to clam up, which pleases me to no end. No one is going to take my twilight sleep away from me. “We'll see about that.”
A moment later, Dr. Dropp walks in with her usual warm smile. “Tessa, Arthur. Lovely to see you both.” She glances at my file, which contains my new weight and measurements of my midsection. “I see things are progressing nicely. I imagine you’re rather uncomfortable, though, at this point in the pregnancy. Most moms of multiples start wishing the whole thing were over by now.”
“Yes, it’s not the most comfortable time I’ve ever had. One of the babies has lodged her little hand…or something…in my ribs, while the other one seems to be using my bladder for a trampoline, especially at night, so that’s fun.”
Dr. Dropp washes her hands, then dries them on a paper towel and deposits it into the garbage. “How’s it going with the modified bed rest?”
“Good. We want to keep those babies in there for a few more weeks yet.”
“Oh, do we?”
“I’m sure you want them out already, but they could use another couple of weeks to make sure those lungs are ready.” Helping me lay back, she then starts examining my belly. When she’s done, she does a quick check of my cervix (while I stare at the ceiling red-faced). When she’s done, she says, “Good. Still completely closed.”
Son of a…
She offers me her arm to help me sit up again. “Have you started working on a birth plan yet? A lot of moms find it very helpful to have a plan in place for when they go into labour.”
“Yes, I do have a plan, in fact, and wanted to run it by you.” I give her a bright smile, hoping to win her over with my sunny disposition. See? I'm the most reasonable and pleasant pregnant lady in the world. “Are you a fan of the Netflix series, The Crown, at all?”
A look of understanding crosses her face. “I’m afraid we don't do twilight sleeps anymore, Tessa. That barbaric practice was stopped back in the late 60s.”
“Barbaric?” I ask with a light chuckle. “It looked pretty civilized to me.”
“Yes, it's unfortunate that the show made it look like such a pleasing option because it really was anything but. It’s actually quite a dangerous practice that had many women waking up mid-procedure screaming and thrashing about. It also resulted in the deaths of a shockingly high number of babies.”
I give her a little wink. “But between you and me, I mean…you know…we can make that work, can’t we? We don’t have to tell anyone. With the far superior drugs available these days, you can make it so there’s no way I’ll wake up until it’s all said and done.” I waggle my eyebrows at her conspiratorially, as though we’re Thelma and Louise about to go on a great adventure together. Although I guess that one didn't end very well for either of them, did it?
Dr. Dropp laughs. “Oh Tessa, you’re such a fun patient. Make sure you stop at the front desk to book your next appointment. I’d like to see you in a week.”
With that, my dream of a beautifully calm twilight sleep birth is now shattered, leaving me even more angry than I was when I came in here. God help the next person to piss me off today.
TWENTY-NINE
Third Trimester Princess Tessa
Arthur
When we arrive home from Dr. Dropp's office, Tessa says, “I don't suppose you'll have time to assemble the cribs this weekend? Or is that a ridiculous thing to expect given your schedule?”
She's really not taking this whole ‘having to be awake during the birth’ thing very well. Not that I'm judging her—there's no fucking way I would ever agree to give birth to anything—so I can hardly blame her for looking for a way out.
Ben opens the door for her, but she doesn’t get out of the limo.
“I'm sure I can find time to put the cribs together. We don't have anything on the schedule for Sunday, so why don’t I take care of it then?”
She shrugs one shoulder. “You know what? Don’t worry about it. I'll just ask my dad to do it. Xav said he’d help.”
That idea ruffles my peacock feathers a little more than it should. Shaking my head, I say, “It's something I'd really like to do.”
“Okay, so long as you do it before I go into labour and have to actually give birth to two babies whilst wide awake.”
There it is. The real reason she’s mad. I follow her out of the limo and up the steps, trying to maintain a safe distance. As soon as we walk through the back door, the sounds of Tessa's nieces and nephews running through the Grande Hall can be heard.
“I almost forgot were having dinner at my parents’ this evening.” Tessa rolls her eyes.
“Any chance you will be suffering from renewed morning sickness?”
“Hardly. This dinner is to celebrate Irene and Bram’s engagement,” she says.
“I would've thought this could wait since it's nearly Christmas.”
“Yes, well apparently my parents like seeing their children and grandchildren as often as possible.”
“Unlike my father?” I ask in a crisp tone.
“That's not what I meant, and you know it.” Tessa hurries down the hall...well, hurry is a relative term, I suppose. These days, she can barely manage to walk at all, let alone quickly. Not a surprise, really, since Dr. Dropp said she’s measuring as though she were forty-seven weeks pregnant. I stroll along next to her, a feeling of guilt coming over me as I listen to her slightly laboured breathing. I really shouldn’t be curt with her. If ever there was a time to be gentle and just let shit go, it’s now.
Just as we're about to reach the entrance to the Grande Hall, she sighs and says, “Let's just get this over with.”
I take her hand and stop walking. “Tess, I’m sorry I snapped at you about my father.”
“That’s okay. I’m not exactly a barrel of laughs these days.”
“Completely understandable, given what you’re going through.”
“Right? These babies are squishing my lungs, even. There is literally no room for me in here.”
I give her a kiss on the forehead. “Poor girl. If it’s any consolation, I love you more each day, even if you are a bit of a bear.”
Her smile drops. “A bear? Thanks.” She turns and starts walking again.
Okkaaay, that didn’t go the way I hoped. Plastering a smile on my face, I resign myself to the evening ahead of me. As I watch the children come rushing toward me, I mutter, “Let the games begin.”
When we reach Evi and Ruben's apartment, I help myself to three fingers of scotch on the rocks, secretly the teeniest bit giddy about how this evening is going to play out. Tessa's brothers have never seen her in angry pregnant mode, and I have a feeling she's about to give them the full treatment, which quite frankly the four of them deserve. I feel a tap on my shoulder, and when I turn, I am immediately locked in a fake boobs hug courtesy of the bride-to-be.
“Can you believe we’ll be brother and sister-in-law soon?”
Yuck. The look on her face doesn’t exactly say healthy brother-sister-in-law relationship. “Hard to imagine, isn't it?”
Tessa joins us, pouring herself a tall glass of cranberry juice. She and Irene get into a discussion about wedding gown designers, which is quickly interrupted by Lars and Nina, who are wearing matching 'you're so fucked to be having twins’ expressions.
Nina gives Tessa a once-over. “You look so tired. Are you managing to get any sleep?”
“Mostly short naps because I can’t last more than a couple of hours without having to pee. There is literally no room for my bladder.”
Nodding, Nina says, “Oh, I remember that. Awful. I hate to tell you, but after the babies are born, you’ll wish you could sleep for two hours at time.”
She doesn’t hate to tell Tessa that. She’s positively delighted. Witch.
“Oh, yeah,” Lars adds. “Nina only slept about thirty-five minutes at a time between feedings when the boys were newborns.”
“If that,” Nina says, laughing. “There was a part of my brain that actually believed the babies were trying to kill me by keeping me awake so much.” She looks up at Lars. “I went off my nut there, didn’t I, Lars?”
“Oh, yes. You were like an insane zombie. Remember the time you forgot the babies’ names for two days straight?”
She gives me a conspiratorial look. “True story. My mind went completely blank from exhaustion. It was like temporary amnesia or something.” She starts counting off on her fingers as she makes a list. “I forgot my bank card PIN, how old I was, the babies’ names, how to use the stove…oh, and how to drive!”
Lars jabs me on the arm with his bony elbow. “I think she only pretended to forget how to use the stove so I’d do the cooking.”
Tessa raises one e
yebrow. “Well, maybe you should have done the cooking if she was that bloody tired.”
“No, thank you. He only knows how to make cereal,” Nina says, then her eyes grow wide with excitement. “Are you so uncomfortable, Tess? I was so horribly uncomfortable the last two months with the boys.”
“Yes, Nina. I am,” Tessa says, seeming completely lacking in enthusiasm about her ability to commiserate with her sister-in-law. “In fact, each day is an excruciatingly uncomfortable test in my ability to not lose my fucking mind.”
“Uh oh, you’ve reached the angry phase,” Lars says with a smirk. Turning to me, he says, “I feel your pain, Arthur.”
“Oh, DO YOU? Do you feel HIS pain?!” Tessa snaps, drawing the attention of everyone in the room. All the children are suddenly silent, for quite possibly the first time in their lives. “I’m sure it must be just awful for expectant dads, what with the lack of physical symptoms and the fact that your lives and bodies remain exactly the fucking same as they always have!”
Oh, dear. This isn’t good. “Tessa, look, your mum made some of those teenie weenies on toothpicks. Shall we go get you some?”
Huge mistake. That was not the right thing to do in this situation.
She spins on her heel and gives me a death glare. “No, I do not want teenie weenies! I want some respect.”
A knock at the door interrupts, and in walks Finn in a suit and tie, clearly on his way from the office. “Hey, everybody! How’s it going?”
“Fine, Finn. We’re all doing fine!” Tessa shouts.
“Hey, Tess,” he says, strolling over to us, completely oblivious of his sister’s tone. “You're not still thinking of sticking with that whole no nanny thing, are you?”
The Crown Jewels Boxed Set (A Crown Jewels Romantic Comedy Series) Page 74