by Liv Bennett
I yawn and stretch my arms out while walking to the bedroom. The over-joy of finding out about my pregnancy has left me exhausted. I guess the hormonal change may have something to do with it, too.
While putting on a t-shirt and yoga pants, I examine the reflection of my body in the mirror. My belly seems larger and feels very hard, most likely due to gasses that haven’t managed to make their way out. I’ll swell like never before, not just my belly, but my face and hips, too. Even so, I’d rather have the shape of a snowball with our children than a model’s figure but childless.
Will Adam still find me attractive? He’ll most likely be in seventh heaven rather than complaining about my appearance. I don’t think his sisters will share his enthusiasm about our baby, though. Neither of the four has accepted me as Adam’s wife and must be secretly wishing he’ll go back to Pat. I hope the baby will be the miracle I need for them to finally accept me as a member of their family.
A permanent one.
With my hands gently massaging my belly, I move to the bed. This will be the first time I’m going to fall asleep knowing a life is growing in me. I’ll have to pay more attention to my health, eat more, and most importantly back off on the workload. Not just during the pregnancy, but later on, too. As much as I want Jack’s company to perform at the top of the market, my priorities will switch so I can attend the needs of my child.
I slip between the sheets, careful not to put much pressure on my belly, and close my eyes. Although my body is exhausted, my brain won’t shut down and keeps producing questions about the future. Are we going to be able to buy a home before the birth of our baby? Should I stop the acupuncture sessions now that I’m pregnant or continue to boost my hormonal balance? When should I announce the news at work? When will I take a maternity leave from work? Although I’m the owner of the company, it’ll be unfair if I take a much longer time than the employees are granted. I’ll have to discuss it with Adam, and maybe with Bree, too.
With more questions popping up in my mind, I slowly find myself drifting into a relaxing sleep. Whatever problems I might encounter, I’ll be able to overcome everything as long as Adam is by my side.
From far away, I start hearing radio playing “Hit the road, Jack” by Ray Charles. I hate that song, since it’d been playing seconds before the car crash that took Jack away from me. The pitch-black darkness around me makes me want to get up to switch the lights on, but I realize I can’t move. My body feels heavy, like a giant chunk of cement, and a man’s voice echoes from the distance.
“The breaks don’t work; the breaks don’t work.” It’s Jack. His last words before he gave his last breath.
Air escapes my lungs, and a sharp pain hits my abdomen. It’s a dream. I must be sleeping. I shouldn’t let the depressive thoughts sprout in my mind again, yet the pain in my abdomen doesn’t feel like the product of my imagination. I try to open my eyes and move my hands up to my stomach.
It’s dark but not pitch-black as it was in my dream, since the street light is glowing through the curtains. Kicking the sheets away, I straighten up and reach for the light switch.
The brightness of the light has me squinting, but even so, I don’t miss the bright-red color on my pants. My heart stops. Red covers everything in my vision. If there’s a moment as excruciating as I had when my aunt told me about Jack’s death after I opened my eyes in the hospital, that moment is happening now. I don’t need to be a doctor to know this amount of blood is not a good sign.
I clutch my stomach and squeeze my legs together to ease the pain that seems to be growing by the second. My heart hurts even more. The blood takes everything with it. My dreams of a family, the home Adam and I were going to buy, the vacations we were going to take together, Christmases, Thanksgivings.
After a moment of struggling, I manage to get up and head to the bathroom. As soon as I sit on the toilet bowl, though, I hear a plop into the water and glance down to see the big mass of a blood clot floating.
Oh, god. Is that my baby? If I had any doubts earlier in the bed, now I’m sure I’m going through a miscarriage. Should I take the blood clot out to get it analyzed or just flush it? Why isn’t Adam here with me when I need him the most?
Maybe he shouldn’t be. He shouldn’t know I’m losing our first child. Probably our only child.
I don’t know what’s better. Not being able to conceive at all or conceiving then miscarrying. Adam will be so disappointed in me. In my abilities as a woman.
I clean myself, place a pad on my panties, and hurry back to the living room. It’s seven. Half an hour before Adam is supposed to arrive. He won’t experience any disappointment, if he doesn’t find out the truth.
I gather the bed sheets that are covered with my blood, dump them into the washer, and change into a shirt and a skirt. My tears are falling freely, wetting my shirt, as I hasten out of the apartment.
Why did this happen to me? I already lost my mother, my cousin, my husband, and now my baby. How many more lives will I be forced to separate from?
I call a cab and wait for it outside since there’s no way I can handle driving right now. A sudden cramp hits my stomach, making me double over in pain. The cab arrives in minutes, and I hop in, biting my lip to be able to cope with the pain.
“Cedar Sinai emergency department,” I say and cover my face to hide when I see Adam running around the corner toward our apartment building. He sprints the last few feet and leaps his way up the steps, two at a time. He must be impatient to fill me with his seed, make me pregnant with his kid, and have the family he’s always been dreaming of. If only he knew... “Hurry,” I yell, my voice coated with anger and pain.
Why me? Why can’t my body handle a simple thing the majority of women do without a problem? Drug addicts can have children without even wanting to. I’m only twenty-seven for god’s sake. Adam’s mother gave birth to the twins when she was forty three.
I’m a major failure.
The emergency doctor who attends me confirms what I already know. I try to hold myself together as the doctor speaks, but my efforts are useless. My tears and sobs prevent me from following what she’s saying. If I hadn’t gone to Dr. Fowler this afternoon, I’d have thought I was having my period, only a few days delayed, without being aware of the loss of my baby.
Ah, the bliss of ignorance. That’s exactly why Adam shouldn’t know about the miscarriage.
I take a cab back home after several hours of crying at the emergency. As soon as I unlock the door of our condo and open it to enter, Adam shows up at the doorway, with his eyebrows knitted together, worry lines across his forehead. Rightly so, because it’s close to midnight and I have yet to check my phone. Pulling me to his chest, he embraces me tightly, and I can’t help but forget about my promises to keep a straight face to hide the miscarriage from him.
Sobs choke my throat, and tears blur my vision, as I hug him back.
“Where have you been? I even called the police.” He draws back, pushing the door closed with his foot, and slips a finger under my chin to steer my face up.
I can’t look at his eyes just yet. “I didn’t feel good.”
“Why? What have you got?”
“My period started today.”
“So?”
No, there’s no frigging way I can tell him about the loss of our baby. About my incapability. I can’t handle seeing the disappointment in his face right now. “You know.”
“If it’s about getting pregnant, we’re not officially trying to get pregnant yet.”
“We’re not?” I raise my eyes to gaze at him directly.
“No. We are only fooling around, just like young couples who are deeply in love do. If we were seriously trying it, we’d calculate your ovulation date and take appropriate measures to make sure your egg is fertilized my by super-duper sperms.”
I feel my lips curl up with a reserved smile. Only he can pull out a smile out of me in these circumstances. “Oh, plural, huh? Are you planning to get me pregnant wi
th triplets?”
“Triplets? I want you to compete with octomom.”
I laugh and drop my head on his chest; fresh tears begin wetting my cheeks. Octomom could carry on a pregnancy with eight babies, while I couldn’t handle just one. What does that say about me?
“Hey, hey, hey. What is it really about?”
I don’t answer.
“Is it because you were late for your period and thought you were pregnant?”
I swallow and freeze at my place. He’s so perceptive; it’s both annoying and disarming. “How do you know I was late?”
“Do you seriously think I wouldn’t notice the extra week I got to enjoy you this month?”
I slap at his chest. “You’re a perv.”
“You’re the wife of a perv. What are you gonna do about it?” Whisking me off my feet, he carries me to the bedroom, and gently places me on the bed.
A deep urge to feel his love and support fills me, and I pull him toward me and rest my head on his chest. My favorite position to cuddle. He doesn’t draw away, doesn’t even question my neediness, and hugs me tightly until I feel myself safe in a cocoon of love. Even the pain in my abdomen eases down with the relaxation I feel in his arms.
“When are we going to officially start trying?” I whisper, my lips touching his hot skin.
“It’s up to you, baby. I can start tomorrow or a decade later.”
“Right... Like you can wait that long?”
“You have no idea how much I love fucking you. Once we have kids, though, I won’t have the luxury to have you as often as I’d like.” He slides down on the bed to come to my eyelevel and takes my face into his hand, before brushing my lips with his. His fingers caress my cheek and neck, and the growing bulge beneath his pants is just the proof of his words.
If only I could believe he’s not telling me that just to calm me down.
6- TAYLOR: Over-priced
The emotional and physical pain of a miscarriage doesn’t abandon me the next day. I wake up around noon to an empty bed, decide to skip breakfast, and instead settle in front of the TV with a glass of orange juice. Everything would have been different, if I had woken up with my baby still alive in my womb. Adam would have made tender love to me, prepared a huge breakfast, and even carried me around in his arms so as not to allow me to strain myself. In reality, though, I have to grieve the loss of our baby all by myself.
My phone buzzes on the coffee table, and I answer it without looking at the caller ID, “Did you miss me already?”
“Yes, love. I can’t stay a minute without thinking of you.” Bree’s laugh erupts in my ear.
“Oh, you.”
“Disappointed much?”
I snort. “Is the world coming to an end without me at work?”
“No, not yet. Though, it might be very soon. Adam hasn’t arrived from his meeting with Chloe Hawkins yet.”
Adam is having a meeting with that woman again? Why? And why didn’t he tell me anything about it?
“Still there?” Bree asks. “I won’t take much of your time. Just need confirmation from you about the expenditure on furniture.”
“Oh, that. How much will that cost me?” Hope not more than ten thousand, but I feel it’s wishful thinking.
“Remember, this is a discounted price. The original price was thirty percent more.”
Yeah, definitely wishful thinking. “How much?”
“Fifty grand.”
“Fifty thousand dollars? Are you kidding me?” I shout, feeling like I’m talking to my sister for acting this recklessly.
“Just your office renovation is fifteen g. Believe me, this is deeply reduced.”
“Bree. I’m sorry but I can’t accept it. It may be discounted, but it’s still too much to pay at this moment. Thank you for bringing the need to change the furniture to my attention, but I’m gonna have to pass on it for a few months, until we have a clearer idea about the expenses of the Berenson project.” Most likely a few years than months.
“Oh. That’s too bad, because I already approved the purchase, and they’ll keep ten percent of the total if we ask for a refund. That’s five thousand dollars.”
“Bree!” I yell. “Why did you do that without first consulting me?” Five thousand dollars for nothing? I could have donated that money to St Jude Children’s Research Hospital, and it would have changed someone’s life, rather than changing a silly piece of furniture. “Can’t you change it and order something cheaper?”
“I’m afraid no. We’ll have to renew the furniture sooner or later, anyway. Henry, from accounting, has been complaining about the bugs eating up his drawers forever. If the building management gets a whiff of it, they’ll cancel our lease on the spot for not informing them on time.”
“If bugs are our problem, we need to call the pest control before spending thousands of dollars on new furniture.”
“Yeah, I’m on it, too. I hired a service and they’re coming the beginning of next week for inspection.”
“Why don’t I know anything about it?” I ask, frustration creeping up on me.
“I sent you an email about the bug inspection and the estimate quote yesterday in the afternoon. I thought you’d reply to me if you weren’t okay with it.”
“I haven’t seen that email, and for the record, don’t just assume I’m okay with anything if I don’t respond.”
“Okay, lesson learned. What shall I do about the furniture?”
I shake my head. I can’t believe I’m going to fall for her trap, but she gives me no choice. “We don’t have many options, do we?”
“Is that a yes?”
“Yes.” I roll my eyes.
“You won’t regret it, I promise. Your office will show every bit of success Edelman Constructions is having.”
“I hope that.” I toss the phone on the couch and focus my attention back on TV. A small throbbing at the back of my head is signaling the beginning of a headache, and I’m sure it’s related to the money I’ve just approved for spending. Fifty thousand dollars for something we already have. That’s insane.
I start to get up, but the ringing phone stops me. Hoping it’s from Adam this time, I grab it and yank it to my ear.
“Eh, Taylor. Hope I’m not disturbing.”
“Henry. What’s the matter?” Henry, the head of accounting, has never called me on my cell phone. He either sends an email or leaves a message with my assistant. Something must be up.
“It’s about the furniture purchase Bree ordered this morning. I just wanted to make sure that you’re approving the charges.”
My neck muscles are tightening with the thought of the money I’m going to have to say good-bye to. “Yeah, yeah. I am. Is there anything else?”
“So, you’re okay with the amount?”
“No, I’m not, but approve the charges anyway. If there’s nothing else you want to talk about...”
“Okay, just wanted to double check.”
“I know, and I appreciate you for your meticulousness.”
He politely wishes me a lovely afternoon, which I doubt I’ll have, and leaves me alone with my growing headache and irritation. I get up and look for a pain killer in the kitchen, before the headache becomes unbearable, and find a note from Adam on the counter.
“Will be late for the dinner. Don’t skip it just because I won’t be with you. I love you.”
What the hell? Why does he need to leave me a note rather than directly conveying his message to me on the phone?
I hurry back to the living room to grab my phone and dial Adam’s number. Of course his voice mail picks up. Shit. The meeting with Chloe Hawkins must be so important that he is ignoring my phone call. What is this secrecy anyway? Why doesn’t he tell me straight to my face that he’s having a business meeting with a woman? Does he think I’ll over-react or I’ll react just right?
My chest tightens, and I reach for the orange juice and gulp down mouthful. I shouldn’t doubt him, I know. He doesn’t deserve it. But, I can’
t help it. If I lose him to another woman, that’ll be my end.
7 – ADAM: Trapped
Taylor and I rent a small beach house across the ocean in San Francisco for a weekend trip to make the most of Taylor’s ovulation day. It’s not like I need a special setting to be able to have my wife under me, but she hasn’t been her normal self these last few weeks. And the way she insisted on having a relaxed weekend without the stress or reminder of her infertility problems really touched my heart, and I agreed on our little getaway, despite the busy work schedule and the Laker’s game on Saturday.
I had no idea she was taking my wish to have kids so much to heart. I guess I can’t just keep my mouth shut when it comes to our future. I wouldn’t utter a word about having kids if I was absolutely sure she had an untreatable infertility issue. But, she’s a young, healthy woman, not to mention the advancements in medical technology to tackle this type of issue. And if nothing works, including the surrogacy option, adoption is always there as a last resort.
However, for now, I’ll make sure to tone down my enthusiasm about my dream family so as not to give Taylor more stress than she already has.
We fly to San Francisco early in the morning, then drive to the beach house with a rental car. Taylor looks giddy with her nonstop hand-fidgeting, and I can’t help but wonder what she has in mind. Some sexy lingerie, another role play, something kinky to try? I’m open to anything, as long as I hear her moans of pleasure, while I’m spurting my seed deep into her womb.
We stop by a supermarket on the way in order to stock up on food for our stay, then do a short drive around town to get acquainted with the neighborhood. I don’t miss the only sports bar and make a mental note to plan a brief escape for an hour or two to catch the Lakers’ game, in case the TV in the beach house doesn’t have cable. I’m sure Taylor won’t even notice my absence, since she’ll pass out for several hours after I’m through with her.