Page 67 of Just Like in the Movies
Llewellyn
Mike was on set today and I was stuck home and restless. My due date had beenfour days ago, and nothing. Not a thing. The doctor had laughed and said that wasn’t unusual for first timers. I’d asked how likely it was that he’d be going to kindergarten from inside my stomach and he’d laughed even harder. I wasn’t entirely kidding though—it felt like that kid had moved in permanently and he wasn’t planning on leaving.
I flopped down on the couch and stared at the ceiling.Uhoh. Will I be able to get back up again?I lifted my head to stare at the mountain of my belly, and for a moment I could have sworn it had taken on a life of its own and was staring back at me. Daring me to do…something.
Maybe I should jump up and down for a while? But I’d always hated jumping jacks in gym. Actually, I’d just hated gym, I was a gentleman of as much leisure as I could manage.
Maybe I’d call Mom and see if she had any words of advice. Except my phone was in the bedroom. I tried to sit up and got about halfway before my belly laughed and put an end to any progress in that direction.
I’m beached on the couch like a dead whale. If Mike came home right now, I’d never live it down.
The television remote wasn’t far away. I turned that on for a bit, but daytime talk shows—unless my fiancé was on them—weren’t my thing either and it wasn’t long before I turned it off.
Now I had to pee.
Desperate times call for desperate measures.I wiggled my legs off the couch, then rolled until I was on all fours on the floor in front of it. As fast as I could, I got to my feet and waddled toward the bathroom before I wet myself.
On the way back to the bedroom, I paused in the baby’s room. We’d painted it a kind of oceany-teal, with little fish and mermaids and mermen all over the walls. I’d wanted to put the baby’s name on the wall too, but we were still stuck trying to decide between three. I straightened the sheets again, even though they didn’t really need it, and checked out the contents of the baby bag, in case we had to leave suddenly. It had all the necessities for a short stay at the hospital, and everything we’d need to bring the baby home. The car seat was already installed, too, just in case.
“Time for you to move out, bud,” I told my belly as I wandered around the room.
In answer, he just stretched a little and then went still again. I sighed and went to look for my phone.
A couple of hours of motherly sympathy later, though, I felt a little less put upon by my ungrateful spawn and decided I’d make a lasagna for dinner. Leftovers could be packed into our little freezer so we didn’t need to worry about cooking while I was gone or after I got home.
It was somewhere about the middle of the second layer of noodles that I felt…something. Kind of like the Braxton-Hicks I’d been having, but stronger. I froze and put a hand to my belly, but then everything relaxed and I was left wondering if this was going to be it, or if it was just a tease.
The next one hit as I was spreading the cheese over the top of the layer. It started slow like the first one, squeezing down from the top. No pain—I’d been expecting pain, so that was a little surprising. But it definitely meant business.
I wiped my hands off and did my best to keep it casual as I dialed Mike’s phone.
“Hey, that was good timing! We’re just finishing up.” I heard someone in the background ask if that was me, which gave me a weird flush of happiness. Mike’s coworkers, who were all actors and directors in Hollywood, were interested in how I was doing. I needed to work on being more cool with that.
“Good. I’m making lasagna.” I could tell him when he got home, there was no need to panic him. “Could you pick up some rolls or something on the way home?”
“Sure. White?”
“Yes, please. As fresh as you can.” My cravings had moved from Mexican food, to fresh fruit, to smoked salmon and cottage cheese, and was now sitting in carb central, with fresh white bread and real butter being the thing the baby craved the most. “And maybe pick up a few other supplies? Some water or juice?”
Oops. I shouldn’t have said anything, because he picked right up on the only reason for me asking him to pick up extra bottled water when we’d just bought a bunch. “Is the baby coming?”
“Not for a while,” I assured him. “Maybe tonight. Probably tomorrow. Don’t rush home.” Be careful, I wanted to tell him. I didn’t want to be in labor in one hospital bed with him in traction after a car accident in the next one over. “I’m just putting the lasagna in the oven.”
“You’ll call me if anything happens, then?” he asked and I could hear the excitement in his voice.
“I will, I promise. But it’s only just started, we probably have hours and hours to go.”
“Okay, I’ll see you soon. With bread and water. Love you.”
“Love you too.” I hung up the phone and finished the lasagna in record time, then shoved it into the oven and went to check my hospital bag for the umpteenth million time to make sure I had everything I’d need.
* * *
Two days later,we were finally admitted to the hospital. They sent us home the first three times, saying I wasn’t in active labor yet, whatever that meant, but then on the last time they agreed that I’d probably be having the baby that night.
“Thank fuck,” I muttered as we trundled along the corridor, Mike carrying my bag and the nurse pushing me along. I was tired already—the contractions had been waking me up on a regular basis and I’d spent most of yesterday just lying on the couch, drifting in and out of sleep.
We got to Labor and Delivery, where I was quickly stripped out of my clothes, checked again because apparently they couldn’t just take my say-so, and popped into a bed to wait for things to get interesting.
