29. Olivia
Olivia
Over the next six months, everything in my life changes.
I go from being a young woman who recently graduated from culinary school and set out to achieve her dream of opening a restaurant to a soon-to-be mother.
People warned me about how much motherhood would change my life, and I didn't believe it.
Maybe I was being naive and hopeful that I could still have the best of both worlds, but everything is different.
Drake makes more money than I can wrap my mind around, so I was thankfully able to quit my job.
It was difficult to accept that at first, because it felt like losing my independence, but growing two children while I spent ten hours at work every day was not ideal.
Now, instead of going into the office, I stay at home and rearrange the toys and decorations we've bought for the nursery.
Still, I don't enjoy not working and am getting restless. The more time I spend not working on something, the more time I have to start thinking about the fact that sooner or later, I'm going to give birth to twins, and I will be responsible for two tiny lives.
It's a lot of pressure.
The doorbell rings, and I slowly rise from the couch, pause the TV, and waddle to the door. Standing on the doorstep and carrying a bag of greasy Chinese food like a knight in shining armor is my dad.
“You’re a hero,” I say, excitedly grabbing the bag from him as I rush to the kitchen to grab plates.
He meets me at the counter, cautiously looking around for any sign of Drake. While we are on good terms, he still isn't thrilled that his best friend went behind his back and is sleeping with his daughter.
“Don't worry, I understand that Chinese food is more important than me,” he says, sticking out his tongue as I shovel fried rice on a plate, giving myself a heaping portion and leaving less for my father.
“I'm glad we could clear that up because it would have been awkward if I had to tell you.”
We sit in the dining room and eat lunch. He tells me about some new clients at the gym and asks me about the pregnancy.
“Your mom would be so happy for all this,” he says after a lull in conversation.
“I remember talking to her about our retirement plans. She always told me that she wanted to live wherever you were because she wanted to be close to her grandkids. She was so young, but she was so excited about spoiling them.”
We smile, and I clear my throat to keep from getting teary-eyed. “I'm putting some pictures of her in the nursery. Even though they'll never get to meet her, I want the kids to know her.”
He reaches across the table and squeezes my hand, looking away from me so I don't see the tears in his eyes. It breaks my heart to see him like this. I know he's happy thinking about my mom, but this is one of those things that he wished she was here for.
“Are you ready to see what I need you to do?” I say, slowly guiding him through the house to the nursery.
Drake has been very busy at the office over the past couple of weeks getting everything in order before his paternity leave begins.
Because of that, it's fallen on me to assemble a lot of the nursery furniture, and the results have admittedly been hit or miss.
Still, the room is almost finished, with lilac purple walls and white dressers filled with baby clothes and scores of diapers stocked in the closet.
Half of the wall has flowers painted all along it, and the other half is unfinished.
In the center of the room are two boxes with cribs.
They are the best that money can buy, and assembling them is tougher than building a rocket.
One of them is poured out of the box and halfway built with bars hanging loose from the base.
My dad laughs when he sees this and drops to his knees to inspect the damage.
I leave him to it and return to the kitchen to sneak more Chinese food before packing it away in the fridge.
As I bend over to put the Szechuan chicken on the middle shelf, I feel a pop between my legs that makes me jolt upright.
Just then, water gushes between my legs, and I feel faint from anxiety.
“No, not right now,” I say, looking over the large bulge of my belly to the ground to see my water broken on the tile. “I'm not due for another month.”
I hurry to the counter and brace myself against it, trying to catch my breath. I don't know how much time passes, but my dad walks in shortly afterward with a smile that quickly falls.
“What's going on?” He rushes to my side, and before I say anything, he sees the puddle on the ground and hurries me to the dining room to sit.
“I'm not ready for this,” I say through a sob as I shake my head and try and will the babies to stay in my womb for another month.
“You're going to be great. I'll be right here with you the whole time,” my dad says, pacing as he panics.
I try to call Drake to let him know I'm going into labor, but he doesn't answer.
My father rolls his eyes, helps me from the chair, and drags me to the front door to take me to the hospital.
I have a bag half-prepared in the bedroom with things I need for the labor, but it has to wait for now.
I can send Callie to come pick it up and finish packing it for me later.
“Don't worry; I'll make sure he’s there,” my dad says when he sees me frantically trying to call Drake.
“He had a big meeting today,” I say, running my fingers through my hair. I need him here with me. I can't go through this without him.
My dad seems almost as nervous as I am. He doesn't waste a moment ushering me into his car to drive me to the hospital. I'm in full panic during the ride, barely registering the fact that we pull up outside, and he runs to the entrance to grab a wheelchair for me.
He gives the receptionist all the information he can, and we're quickly brought back to a room in the maternity ward. Not long after I'm settled in, Callie shows up in her work clothes with her hair pulled back in a professional bun.
“I came as soon as I heard,” she says, out of breath as she takes a seat beside me on the bed. “Is everything okay? You're not due for another month.”
She looks around the room, and Drake is noticeably missing. She quirks an eyebrow to ask without saying the words. I know what's on her mind, and she's worried that I was wrong to trust him.
“I couldn't get a hold of him,” I explain, shaking my head.
“He has to be here for this,” she says with irritation thick in her voice.
The doctor walks in with a smile, and I tell him everything that's going on, including the fact that my water broke almost a month early.
“It doesn't immediately concern me that this is a premature birth,” Dr. Berg says as he palpates my stomach. “Twins' gestational periods are often shorter than single pregnancies. However, it's always best to be cautious, and we’ll closely monitor you and the babies during your labor.”
He does a preliminary physical exam while Callie and my father wait behind the curtain in the room.
I can hear them whispering to themselves as I take deep breaths for the doctor.
When he leaves, I call Drake again, but he doesn't answer.
With each missed phone call, I'm more nervous. What if this is too much for him?
Giving birth is a lot different than being pregnant. I'm sure the reality is setting in for him about everything we're going through. He promised me it wouldn't be this way, but men like him make promises to women like me all the time.
My dad moves to stand beside me, squeezing my hand as he brushes my hair out of my face. “I'll make sure he's here. Don't worry.”
He gives me a quick peck on the cheek before jumping up and grabbing his things to leave, tossing me one last reassuring glance before he leaves.
“He'll be here,” Callie echoes, sitting next to me on the bed. “I've seen how important this pregnancy is to him, and I doubt he'll have a change of heart.”
I nod and take a deep breath to let her think I'm calming down. The panic is more intense than it has ever been, and I just hope she's right, because I need Drake here beside me more than ever.