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“Hello there, sleepyhead,” she says with a smile. “I see you actually listened to me.”
“Pee first, talk after.”
After handling my business, I waddle back into the living room and collapse next to her on the sofa. “I feel so huge,” I whine.
Pippa grins and reaches over, rubbing my stomach. “You’re carrying a whole other life. Anyway, you’re not that big. Could you imagine if you were having twins? Oof. Valerie at the shop had twins, and she was twice the size you are now.”
I shudder at the thought. “No thanks. One is good enough.” I look down at my stomach, tracing the curve of it.
“Hey…” Pippa puts her hand on my shoulder, forcing me to look at her. “What’s the matter?”
“Just thinking.”
“About what? About dick?”
“Pippa! You know, for a lesbian, you talk way too much about dick.”
“I’m not the only one.” She smirks with a knowing expression.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Pippa laughs, shooting me a playful glance. “Even if you managed to close that door, girl, I’d still be front-row for all those oh-so sexy dreams you’ve been having over the last few months. So, what were you really thinking about?”
It’s hard to voice my question aloud, even to my best friend. “Do you think I’m going to be a good mom?”
Pippa’s laughter fades. “Of course you are. How is that even a doubt?”
I shrug, leaning my head back. “I don’t know. It’s not like I had the best role model. Growing up, my mom’s world revolved around me, until I announced my love for dancing, which she saw as my ‘ridiculous dream.’ The pressure to be what she wanted me to be never let up, and any slip from that standard earned me her silent disappointment.” It isn’t exactly my favorite topic, but I’ve always felt like my mother’s love came with conditions, as if I had to meet these impossible expectations just to earn it. “It’s like... no matter what I did, it was never enough. Like I was always falling short. Part of me just can’t help but be worried that I’m going to royally screw this whole thing up.”
“First off, not possible.” Pippa takes a deep breath and shifts to give me her full attention. “For one, you have me. If you even start to lean in that direction, I’ll slap the crap out of you, Elizabeth Evangeline Moore. And another, there’s no way you could be that way because you remember what it’s like. Just the fact that you’re worried about it’s a step in the right direction.”
“That’s fair,” I agree with a small nod. “I don’t think my mom ever worried about stuff like that.”
“No, she didn’t. Which is why you two don’t even speak anymore. You’re a tough bitch but you’re also sensitive and kind. You’re already doing everything in your power to make sure this kid has what they need, not what you want them to have.”
Her words send a wave of reassurance over me, and I smile, pushing aside that pesky anxiety that always shows up at the worst times. “You’re right. You’re absolutely right. I’ll be okay. I always told myself if I ever had kids I would make sure to listen to them and what they wanted. I haven’t changed my mind on that.”
“Good. Keep that mentality and you’ll do fine.” Pippa rubs my arm comfortingly. “You’ve got this, Liz.”
“I’ve got this!” My stomach suddenly tightens, and I instinctively hunch over, clutching my midsection. “O-o-ouch!”
“What is it?” Pippa asks, her eyes wide. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, just…” I struggle to find the words, pressing down to try to relieve some of the pressure. “Tight. My stomach feels tight.”
“Bad tight or good tight?”
“What does that even mean?”
“I don’t know. I’m completely out of my wheelhouse here,” Pippa says, clearly concerned. “Maybe you should go back to sleep.”
Normally, I would argue with her, but going back to bed sounds like the best idea in the world. “Yeah. Yeah, I think I’ll do that. Help me up.”
With her assistance, I heave myself off the couch and shuffle back to my room. I wish I could say that I crawl back into bed and am able to get more sleep. But it doesn’t exactly turn out that way.
For starters, no matter how I move, how many pillows I use, I can’t get comfortable. My body is sore beyond belief. At first, I think my old bed has finally reached its end. But I soon realize, the bed isn’t the problem. Every part of my body feels tense, and no amount of stretching is able to relieve the pressure. The baby is strangely calm. In fact, I haven’t felt any movement since earlier, even when I prod my stomach. Which, by the way, is hard as a rock.
I’ve just forced myself to sit up, contemplating calling my doctor for suggestions, when the bed beneath me grows wet. It doesn’t take a genius to realize what has happened.
