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The next week went similarly, and we began to make a trip down to the coffee house as a regular afternoon foray. It helped me to not feel quite as cooped up. Amir had held true to his word and we talked on the phone every night before bed. He filled me on what he could about his day and I yawned my way through apologizing for how boring I was. I would eventually start to doze off, and we would hang up. I slept, but not that great, and I woke often during the night. I really hated how much I missed my man. It made me feel like a stupid little girl.
Anna’s due date was only two weeks away and the house was collectively abuzz in preparations. Her personal midwife was already living in residence and the doctor was on call and within fifteen minutes until further notice. Today after her checkup, I’d asked to talk to the doctor.
I told him about the ever increasing cramps and that I’d spotted some blood yesterday. He did an ultrasound and couldn’t see anything visibly out of the ordinary. He prescribed bed rest, however, and I was hesitant to obey. I didn’t tell anyone that was the prescribed course of treatment, and I continued to hide the ever increasing pains in my abdomen.
It had been four weeks since Amir left, and he promised to return by the end of this week. On this particular morning, I found it difficult and very painful to get out of bed. So I ordered some breakfast in, and I slept a good part of the early afternoon. I nibbled at the eggs and sipped a tiny bit of juice, but then had to rush to the bathroom and vomit—something I’d not been inflicted with for well over two months. I went back to bed and dozed.
When I woke up, it took me forever to resurface from a blanket of foggy dreams, so it took me a bit to register the bed felt soggy between my legs. When I finally did register what had happened I lifted the covers and immediately began screaming. I was bleeding and it appeared as if I had been for quite a while in my sleep.
Servants rushed to help me, and I was promptly wheeled to the delivery/hospital room set up on the bottom floor of the three-story palace. The doctor was called, and I passed out just after he arrived. Later I was told it was a miracle I woke at all after that much blood loss. All I continued to whimper was, “The baby—no, the baby! Amsi has to survive.”
Amir and I had been deliberating over names for months now. I wanted something strong and American sounding—like my dad’s name of Aaron or my uncle’s, Able. He wouldn’t sign off any Christian names, and although I understood, it still irked me that he was so stubborn on the subject. He said the boy must carry his Father’s first name, and of course his last, but what we called him and his middle names were a flexible matter.
Then he suggested the name, Amsi, which was an Egyptian name with a multiple meanings, one which was to be a prosperous and generous leader. I rolled it around in my head and decided I could live with it. After another day of pondering, and the child in my womb had his name, and I began to refer to him Amsi. His full name was to be Amir Aaron Amsi Rashid and that made me happy.
But now I was scared.
Was something wrong with me? With my unborn child? My little pPrince?
Chapter Fifteen
I woke to hear Amir’s strong voice in the hall. He was discussing something with someone, and all I knew was that it was him. They were speaking Arabic. I picked up a few words since I’d been learning—Child, wife, and something about prayers. I felt horrible and reflexively stroked my stomach. Amsi wiggled and pushed a tiny foot against my palm. I broke into tears. Thank God he was okay. My momma bear instincts had apparently k
icked in, and I was willing to die if it meant he would survive.
Amir entered, and I weakly grinned. The look of genuine concern on his face slew the last of my sanity, and I began balling hysterically. He rushed to me, and I cry-talked my way through an apology for not obeying the doctor and not telling someone sooner about the pains. He patted my hand and then silenced me with a kiss. I totally missed the fact he’d walked in on his own two feet.
“Calm, my precious. I only understood part of that. Slow down.”
I sniffed and rubbed my nose with the bed sheet, “You’re walking. Oh Amir! You’re walking!”
“That is of little consequence. How are you feeling?”
“I think Amsi is okay. Here feel him…” I took Amir’s hand and put it where mine had been. His face shifted from a moment of confusion and then elation, and then his chin began to quiver and his eyes welled.
“Oh my.” he choked out.
“You’re walking?” I again asked.
He grinned and nodded. “Yes, it is my surprise to you. I still need a cane.” He lifted a fancy wooden walking stick. “Yes, my love. The strength is slow to return, but it is. I can feel I will be a whole man yet again.”
Amsi kicked again, and Amir’s face lit up. I sniffed more, “He’s really strong. I think he’s okay.”
Amir turned all of his attention back on me, “You are more important, Julie. I told the doctors if there was a choice, you were more important.”
My heart swelled and then cracked, exploding into a tiny million pieces. I’d never been loved the way this man loved me.
“No! No Amir. He is more important! He is all that is important!” I gripped at his hand with both of mine and my grasp was feeble, “You promise me right now, Amir Rashid—promise me you will do everything in your power to save our child.”
His lips lifted on only one side of his face. “You are such a strong-willed female. I admire your determination. I love you.”
“You didn’t promise me, Amir. I’m serious!” I pushed the covers off my stomach and held it on both sides. “He is more important than me. Promise me this right now!”
He begrudgingly nodded, “I will not let it come to that. You will be fine—he will thrive to full term—we will be a family.”
“I think I’m going to be okay, but I still want that promise.”
He gave me a curt nod, “Yes, Julie, I promise.”
