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“Are you doing this because of us?” she asked, as she looked worriedly into my eyes and rubbed her tight abdomen. “If that is the case—”
“It’s not the case, no. This is my decision based on what I want from life. I’d never turn my back on touring if that was what I wanted to do. The time is right for change and producing fits in better with family life.
It’ll still mean traveling a little for meetings and late nights when we setup a studio, but I was thinking we could make a studio on the ground floor of the beach house. All the rooms are soundproofed already, and it wouldn’t take much alteration to close off access to the upper floors.
We could live here during the school year, over there on weekends and spread our time between here and there when I’m working.”
“My, you really have been thinking,” Billie said, still eyeing me warily. My attention fell to her and I noted again how tired she looked. I had only been gone a week and a half, but her energy levels and mobility appeared to have gotten even lower. She yawned and cranked her head from side to side.
“You’re tired. Come on, I want to spoon with you in bed,” I said, careful not to put any sexual demands on her because she looked worn ragged. In my absence she had dealt with work, Colby, the house and carrying our babies.
* * *
I used to scoff when couples used the phrase ‘we’re pregnant’, because for most of the time a baby was forming in utero, the most the father had done was come inside the mother host, provide a champion swimmer, and determine what sex their child was going to be.
Then I’d discovered hormones and their ability to strike like ballistic missiles in the daytime sky, and I seldom saw them coming until the explosion was upon me. However, hormones had nothing on the sleep deprivation I suffered while supporting my lovely wife.
During the following six or seven weeks, by then I’d lost count, I had learned to view my sleepless nights as some kind of internship for fatherhood, when I’d been repeatedly called upon to arrange and rearrange my wife’s positions in bed, most of which weren’t sexual, although I had to admit that a few of them were.
“Grr,” she growled in frustration in the dead of night and my primed body jerked and signaled an alert. My tired eyes felt gritty, stung and took several attempts to open.
Until thirty weeks Billie hadn’t been demanding at all, but all of this changed when her baby bump became ridiculously large for her small frame, and when she lay down, she had found it almost impossible to get up again. Naturally she blamed the mattress but her body was downright riddled with fatigue.
“Sorry, Sawyer, I can’t get comfortable. Can you help me move up the bed a little?” Ten minutes after I’d done this. “Oh, are you still awake?” she asked as her nails raked behind her and tickled my abs.
“Mmm,” I mumbled supportively, as I fought not to slide into unconsciousness again.
“I need the bathroom and my foot is tangled in the sheet. Can you help me get out of bed, honey?”
Then there were regular pleas. “Every time I lie down past a certain point, I get heartburn. Can you sit me up a bit?” she grumbled. Soon her behaviour had a routine of its own and it had felt almost ritualistic in nature. Like clockwork, I spent a large chunk of our time in bed repositioning her for most of the night.
She had more positions to get comfortable than sexual ones in the Karma Sutra, many of which involved padding pillows under her head, her bump, between her legs, down one side of her back and by the time she settled and was sleeping soundly I’d had to drag myself out of bed, feed Colby, and take him to school.
Still, I appreciated how cramped her lungs and other organs must have been with the short space she had between her hips and her ribs, not to mention the extra weight of two babies on that small body of hers and reasoned I’d still gotten the better deal.
At thirty-five weeks Billie still went to work and I bit my tongue after another snippy conversation when I’d insisted on driving her there.
“Oh, Lord, I can’t reach the zipper on my ankle boot,” she said, somewhat frustrated again. Can you do this for me, Colby?” She knew asking me would have led to another lecture. Colby had been on my side and as far as we were concerned enough was enough.
“Mom, you either need longer arms or you need to stop working.” He shrugged and I turned away to hide how funny his comment was.
Packing Colby’s lunch in his lunchbox, I tried again. “Listen, I know you wanted to work right up to the end, but don’t you think it’s time to do most of your outstanding work at home and pass the reins on to Tricia?” I asked in the most even tone I could muster.
“Just do my frigging boot up, I’m going to be late,” she snapped with a glare. Fuck you, hormones.
“I will if you intend on sleeping in those tonight, because it’ll be a one time deal,” I stated. “You keep telling me you’re fine, yet I’m taking you to work because the steering wheel is in the way of your bump and your legs won’t reach the gas pedal and now it would seem not only have your legs shrunk but your arms as well.”
Colby got a fit of the giggles and Billie, refusing to be beaten, struggled up to her feet and found a novelty backscratcher her son had bought her for Christmas. Both Colby and I sat mesmerized while she fed one of the fingers of the little hand on the end of it into the zipper pull of her boot and dragged it closed. With a triumphant look on her face, she stood and gave me a smugly sarcastic smirk.
“There,” she said, stamped her foot on the floor and her water broke. I had no idea what I’d been expecting to happen, but the light gray dress she had on turned dark as it became soaked. A puddle formed on the wooden floor at her feet.
Both Colby and I looked at each other stunned while Billie looked like she’d been hit by a truck. Quickly I shook my head and came to my senses.
“Wow, it looks like today’s the day. Colby go grab my cell from the table over there, and we’ll give your mom’s doctor and Uncle James a call and ask them to meet us at the hospital. Would you like me to call Tricia and let her know you may be a little late today, darlin’?” I asked Billie with a very straight face. Fortunately she saw the funny side of my comment and laughed.
“God, this is really happening, huh?” she asked, still a little shell-shocked from the sudden change in pace.
“Yep and with one boot firmly in place,” I chuckled. “Do you have any pain?”
“Nothing, I just need you to help me to the bathroom. I’ll need to change and grab some pads before we get in the car.”
“Does this mean I’m having a day off from school today?”
“Unless you’d rather go in? It may be a long day,” I offered, knowing full well he’d want to be with his mom. “Once we’ve been to the hospital and your mom has been seen, we’ll have a better idea what’s going on.”
Colby nodded, and I ushered Billie slowly to our bathroom suite and helped get her out of her clothes. “You’re so cool, even now,” Billie stated, but little did she know that inside I was quietly freaking out.
