In no time at all, Aspen and I will share a child. The next newborn I hold will be my own. I won’t be the protective uncle;I’ll be the dad. For as long as I can, I’m going to be the strongest man in her book. Our baby will never grow up thinking they are less than. I want to raise my child to be so sure of themselves that they never question whether they can do something. Whether or not they can come to me, I didn’t have that. And I’m fixing to mend that broken chain.
I may not get to be there forever, but I’ll make the most of whatever time I get with my baby.
Chapter 20
Aspen
“The doctor will be in as soon as possible. If you need anything hit that call light and I will be right back,” I instruct as I tuck the sweetest ten-year-old into bed. Poor guy had the playground get the best of him. Biffed it off the monkey bars and has a gnarly goose egg on the back of his head. We took him down to CT and the initial read on the images are good and reassuring.
Closing the curtain behind me, I walk to the nearest sink to wash my hands and try to get some charting done before I have to head out of here early.
I’m nineteen weeks today, but we’re doing my twenty-week appointment. The doctor is unfortunately out the day of my ultrasound and this was the closest we could get in. It’s hard to believe that we’re already almost at the halfway mark. Guess that’s what happens when you don’t realize you’re pregnant for over three months.
“You excited for your appointment today?” my coworker, Ashley, asks. I miss working with Ava, but if I had to choose who I’d work a shift with, it’d be her. She’s happy to be here and works her ass off. Between her bright blonde hair and sunny disposition she feels like literal sunshine, and in a place like the ER, we could use more sunshine.
“Yeah, I wish we could have the ultrasound today, too, though.” I’d feel better about today's appointment if Rhett had his initial lab work in. They said it would take two weeks, but it’s been three. My nausea had just gotten better, but with the added stress I’m right back to feeling a bit queasy. I’d give anything for that man to be okay. Mostly for the health aspect, but damn, would I love to see him actuallylive. And not in fear, with freedom instead. He deserves so much more than what he is allowing himself.
“Hopefully you’ll get to hear heart tones though, that’s always exciting. I loved doing it in nursing school. I almost picked Labor and Delivery for my internship.” She smiles brightly at me just as a call light goes off. “I’ll get it, you finish your charting.”
She practically skips down to bay four and I can’t help but laugh. I hope this place doesn’t rob her of that. Healthcare isn’t always easy. Add in all the policy changes, crappy leaders and executives who care more about money than they do you, it can get pretty daunting.
I chart the vitals of my last patient, and check my pockets to make sure I’m not forgetting anything before I log off. Once I page our supervisor to come take over the rest of my shift, I wave to Ashley and head out to the parking lot .
My mind bounces back to Rhett; it always does. Maybe it’s the hormones, or maybe it’s the feelings I have been trying to bury. Repeatedly. I meant it when I said I was choosing myself. And choosing a future and happiness.
But what if he is my ‘happy’? I still get lost in the daydream of us being a real family. I try not to think about it often, cause damn does it make my heart ache, dreaming of the life where Rhett is mine, and I am his. The pull I feel toward him has intensified tenfold. Maybe in part to the hormones, but really, it’s because he is already the best damn dad, and if that isn’t the hottest quality a man can have, I don’t know what is.
I’m trying to find the balance between being hopeful and being realistic. It’s possible his feelings aren’t as deep as mine. We’ve never talked about it. Feelings were very much off the table of discussion. But I swear I've seen it, in the way he looks at me, the way he touches me. It’s like my heart knows, maybe both of ours do; we’re just too scared.
I sigh, trying to push all of this out of me. Maybe if I exhale hard enough, it’ll pull all of the confusion from me. I try again. It doesn’t.
Once I get home, I head to my bedroom, already feeling a bit overwhelmed; trying to find something to wear will totally help. At work it’s easy; scrubs pretty much always fit, they’re stretchy with an elastic band. The jeans in my closet? Not so much.
In the last two weeks, it’s like every time I wake up, the bump is bumping more. I’m halfway between looking like I had the world's largest burrito and pregnant. It makes dressing incredibly different, living in a body you don’t quite recognize.
I have one pair of jeggings that buttoned last week, so I pull them out of the closet. It looks really cute with my floral blouse. It’s pretty flowy, so I have high hopes.
The pants get caught at my hips, not the area I thought I was going to be having a hard time today. Maybe I just need to do a few hops, loosen them up.
Three hops later, they are up but just barely. I take a step and look in the mirror. They are stretched so far, the materialripples, and there’s no way in hell they are buttoning. I look like a busted can of biscuits.
Tears start to build up, but I quickly bat them away. I don’t have time for that. Rhett will be here any second, and I am not even close to ready.
I guess I can always wear leggings with the shirt; it’s a little 2016 coded, but I can live with that.
The shirt slides on, no problems at all. Thank the Lord. That probably would have been my–oh no.
The shirt is a bit cropped to begin with; add in a bump, and now I look like Winnie the Pooh. Not exactly the style I was looking for. I stare at myself, slowly becoming a blur as tears fill my eyes. I am so grateful to be bringing life into this world, and I love my baby so much already, but I just feel like a stranger in my skin and this is only the beginning.
It’s not that big of a deal in the grand scheme of things, but the culmination of everything else has stacked my heart into a fragile house of cards. These clothes not fitting is the wind to knock them over.
“This is so stupid,” I chastise myself as I sink down onto the floor, burying my face in my hands.
The front door opens, and I inwardly curse Rhett for being so damn reliable. I should have known he would be early. Usually, I love this about him; during a meltdown, not so much.
“Aspen?” he hollers out.
I swallow the lump in my throat and try to hop to my feet. “In here.” It sounds better than I thought it would. A little Kermit the froggy.
