Unexpecting (Unexpecting #1)

43. Chapter Forty-Three

Chapter Forty-Three

“Grandparents are a wonderful source of knowledge and support for the expectant mother. They will be eager and excited to meet the new arrival and often want to provide care for the entire family.”

A Young Woman’s Guide to the Joy of Impending Motherhood

Dr. Francine Pascal Reid (1941)

T he next day, Monday—the day before my first official “date” with J.B.—was a bad day. Technically, it wasn’t my first date with him, because we had those couple of dates when we first met. This was like the first date the second time around. Or I could call it the first date after he impregnated me.

Anyway, it was snowing, which always gets the kids at school excited, and today they all flipped between being hyper and whining in the blink of an eye. Added to this, the babies had been kicking me all morning, I’d thrown up twice before breakfast and once at lunch, and I’d had a bad backache for the last couple of days. For the first time, I was tired of being pregnant.

Despite constant nausea—which had gotten a little better, but was still around—and the throwing up, I’d already gained thirty-five pounds, and today it felt like I was carrying even more than that. I had two more months of this, and right now I couldn’t for the life of me think why I had signed up for it. Oh, that was right—I didn’t. This is all J. B.’s fault.

I fought the snowflakes as I walked the few blocks to the store from the subway. The first snowfall always got me in a Christmas mood, even if it was in November. This year I’d have to watch out for ice on the ground. I was even more uncoordinated than I usually was. My hip still ached from when I fell last week.

Not ten minutes after I got to work, the door swung open with a gust of cold air and in walked my mother. Luckily, she seemed in a much better mood than the last time she came for a visit.

″Casey! Sweetface!”

″Hi, Mom.” I looked with surprise at the way she was dressed. She was wearing a grey tweed skirt and a black leather jacket. I loved the coat, but that was not the surprising part. Her skirt wasn’t too tight; all of the buttons of her blouse were done up without showing cleavage; and for Terri-with-an-I—or too-tight Terri—she looked quite respectable.

″You look nice,” I told her honestly. I wasn’t sure the last time I said that and meant it.

″Why, thank you, sweetie! And look at you! C’mere and let me get a look-see at that belly.”

I stepped out from behind the counter and let Terri have a rub. “What’s up?” I finally asked.

″How would you feel about taking a little trip next weekend? Like to Vegas?” Terri asked in a singsong voice.

″What’s in Vegas?”

″Only my wedding!”

″Oh! Your wedding—you’re really getting married. I mean, I knew that, but… um, can I fly being this pregnant?” I wondered.

″Of course you can. I’d really like you there, sweetface. I’d love for Libby too, but with the kids…” And since she’s barely said two words to you since you told her you were getting married, is what I didn’t say. “It might be hard on her, leaving the kids. Will you talk to her? Please. She listens to you.”

Libby refused to listen to anyone but herself. “I’ll try.”

″Will you come?” In all my thirty-six years, I had never heard my mother sound so vulnerable. She sounded like she actually, truly wanted me there. “And you don’t have to worry about the plane tickets—Eric said it was an early Christmas present from him.”

″Really?”

″Really. Having you there will make my wedding day just perfect! I know it’s short notice… ”

″Okay,” I told her. “I have to check with my doctor, but okay.”

″Okay?” my mother cried with such happiness in her voice, it made me happy. “Really?”

″Sure. Why not?”

″Oh, baby!” Was my mother crying? “You know, sweetface, if there’s anyone you’d like to bring… are you dating anyone?”

″Well…” I paused, “I have a date tomorrow night.”

″With who?” she gasped.

″J.B.,” I admitted shyly.

″Well, that’s nice. Go have your fun now before the babies are born because you sure won’t have a lot of time then. Unless, of course, you ask me to babysit!”

Mom left after giving me several heartfelt hugs, and I was left with a warm and fuzzy feeling. It was not often I’ve made a difference in Terri’s life, but she seemed so happy that I agreed to be at her wedding, I couldn’t help but be glad too.

After about an hour, though, the nice feeling wore off. Not for any particular reason, but I just started to feel sick. Today, though, it was worse than usual. Different. I tried making myself throw up, which sometimes helped, but not this time. By three-thirty, I was feeling so ill that I had to leave work early. Along with my perpetual nausea, today I had heartburn, a nasty backache, and a cramp in my neck. A nice lie-down would fix me right up, I decided, and I might even have time to watch a little T.V. when I got home. I had PVR-ed Downton Abbey and had gotten a few episodes behind.

The lives of Victorian-era gentry had faded from my thoughts by the time I reached home. Literally dragging myself there, I’d never felt this awful during the whole pregnancy. I even had to jump off the subway twice because I was convinced I was going to vomit. I didn’t, mainly because I had no desire to lean over the disgusting garbage cans on the platform and heave my guts in front of tons of people. Then with the thought that some fresh air would help, I got off a station early, but I was so tired and my back hurt so much, I had to stop at least half a dozen times before I made it home. I should have called someone to pick me up, or at least gotten a cab. I kept looking for one as I stumbled home, but they’re never around when you really need them. And, of course, I’d let my battery die on my cell phone .

When I finally opened the door about forty-five minutes after starting out, I was so relieved to be home I felt tears spring into my eyes. And I’m not a crier.

″Casey? Is that you?” Emma called from the kitchen. “What are you doing home so early?” She came to the top of the stairs to see me leaning against the wall, unable to take my shoes off. “OhmyGod! What’s wrong? Is it the babies?” In a flash, she was down the stairs, with Cooper and J.B. right after her.

″You need to lie down.” Cooper pushed open the door to my apartment and steered me inside, his arm firm around my shoulders.

″What’s wrong? You look horrible. Is it the babies?” J.B. asked from my other side. I’d never seen him look so worried. I opened my mouth to speak and found I couldn’t. I had to vomit, right then. I pushed Cooper away and lurched forward. The contents of my stomach spilled noisily onto the ceramic floor inside the door. After it all came up—it feels like it took forever—I was still kneeling on the floor, still retching. And I was crying for real now. J.B. had his arm around me, which I usually can’t stand when I’m throwing up, but today I couldn’t care less who was touching me. Emma was pressing a cold cloth to the back of my neck, and Coop was nervously hovering. I give him credit for staying—I know he’s a sympathetic puker.

″Sorry,” I mumbled to no one in particular after my stomach stopped heaving. Then everything started to go dark, and my eyes rolled back in my head. My last thought was that I hoped someone caught me before I landed in the puddle of my own vomit.