Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 95307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
“How are you feeling today?” I ask.
“The same as when you left for work this morning,” she teases.
“That was four whole hours ago. A lot can change in four hours. Look what four weeks have done.” I reach over and place my palm flat on her tiny bump.
“Four weeks and four hours, the same but different, right?” She laughs.
“Exactly.” I wink, letting her know I get it. I know I’m a crazy man when it comes to my wife, yes wife, and unborn child. I own that and make no apologies. They’re everything to me. Sure, we’re not technically married, but I don’t need that piece of paper saying so. I know it in my heart.
“Gwen,” the nurse calls.
I stand quickly and offer Winnie my hand. “I don’t need help out of chairs, just yet,” she reminds me.
“Doesn’t matter. If I’m here, you’re getting my help.”
“See what I deal with?” She points over her shoulder at me as she talks to the nurse.
“He’s one of the good ones,” she assures her.
I place my palm on the small of Winnie’s back and follow her down the hall. “I know the drill. Which room?” I ask the nurse as we stop at the scale.
“Room two.”
“Love you.” I don’t bother lowering my voice as I say the words, and kiss her temple before leaving her to step on the scale, and pee in a cup.
As soon as I’m sitting in the room, my cell rings. Pulling it out, I see that it’s Gina. I silence the call, making sure my phone is on vibrate, and slide it back into my pocket. There’s nothing at work that can’t wait twenty minutes for this appointment. Immediately my cell rings again, but I ignore it. The third time, I slide it out of my pocket.
“What?” I say, irritated.
“Harrison, the contractor for the Lakeview location just called. He needs your final paint choices,” Gina says, clearly ignoring my irritation.
“Gina,” I say through gritted teeth, just as the exam room door opens, “I told you not to bother me, that Winnie and I had an appointment today. The contractor can wait. I don’t consider paint colors to be an emergency.” She starts to speak, but I hang up on her. I don’t care what her reasons are; they’re not good enough.
“Gina?” Winnie asks.
“Unfortunately,” I say, running my fingers through my hair. “I told her not to call unless it was an emergency. She called three times back to back, so I answered.”
“And?” she prompts.
“Paint colors.”
“Not an emergency,” she agrees.
“Not even close. I swear she tries my patience. Did I tell you she had a meeting scheduled for this exact time today with the equipment company? Had I not been paying attention I would have stood them up. I caught it and called them myself to explain and reschedule.”
“She knew about the appointment?”
“Yes. It’s on my calendar, the one she has full access to.”
“Knock, knock,” Dr. Taylor says, entering the room. “How are Mom and Dad?” she asks politely.
My heart squeezes in my chest at being referred to as Dad. It’s something we talked about, and I know it’s happening—I see the proof in the changes in my wife’s body, have heard our baby’s heartbeat—but to be called Dad, it’s surreal and exciting.
I sit down while Dr. Taylor goes through the same routine as our last checkup four weeks ago. Asking Winnie the usual questions, she takes measurements. The doctor pulls the Doppler from the cabinet and I can’t stand to sit here this far away from them. Standing, I go to Winnie, kissing her temple and clasping her hand in mine, while we listen to the steady thunderous beat that is Peanut’s heartbeat.
“Everything looks great,” Dr. Taylor says, handing Winnie paper towels to wipe off her belly. I intercept them and do it for her. I can’t explain it, but there’s something inside me that swells with pride at the chance to take care of them. When I think about getting to do it every day for the rest of my life, it’s humbling.
“So, we’ll see you back in four weeks. We’ll do an ultrasound at that appointment and get some images of your baby. We can usually determine the gender at that time as well if that’s something that you’re interested in.”
Winnie looks up at me with question in her eyes. “Whatever you want, Winnie.”
She bites down on her bottom lip, trying to hide her smile. “I’d like to know, so we can paint the nursery and be as prepared as possible,” she says.
“Then we find out.” I kiss the top of her head. I’ve always had a hard time keeping to myself when she’s near, but this time around, it’s worse. So much worse. I have to be near her, to be touching her. It’s almost as if I’m fearful she’ll disappear if I don’t. I know that’s irrational as we’re in this together. Stronger than ever. But the constant worry of her and the baby, of losing either of them again, eats me up inside. I never want to be without her. Ever.