When Tabitha’s baby is a week overdue, she’s willing to do just about anything to get the labour started! Funny, sweet, and poignant…
Click on the link to order your copy, and enjoy the excerpt below!
He was nearly a week overdue.
Tabitha traced the red circle she had drawn on the calendar to mark her due date six and a half months earlier.
“Time to come out, little one,” she murmured, patting her full, round belly. The burden inside shifted lazily under her touch. “Just try not to hurt mama too much on the way, all right?”
In twenty-four hours, if things didn’t get moving on their own, her labour would have to be induced. Tabitha was more than ready to get going, but the prospect of that particular medical procedure somehow bothered her more than the idea of giving birth itself. Her body would know what to do when the time came. Having extra poking and prodding to make it happen seemed a little like — overkill.
But her midwife had been adamant: if she was not in labour by the 7th, away to the hospital they would go. No home birth. Possibly a c-section.
It seemed like her pregnancy could be summed up in numbers.
Six and a half days overdue.
Two years of trying — less than some parents experienced, but longer than others would tolerate before heading to the fertility doctor.
Eight pregnancy tests before her husband, Rick, was assured that they were really and truly going to have a baby. He’d been thrilled after the two little blue lines appeared in the first test, but he’d suggested that she pee on the stick again, and again, and again, just in case. After all, the second test had shown negative results. Later, at the midwives’ office, they’d learned that a false negative was a common phenomenon in the early stages.
There was no doubt about it at this point, Tabitha reflected. The negative had definitely been false.
Forty pounds of extra weight…please let it come off quickly, she prayed.
Tabitha wrenched her gaze away from the calendar as the kettle shrieked on the stove. She padded heavily over to turn off the element, not quite waddling but not in an easy gait. Since her pelvis had loosened a few weeks ago, walking was a bit of an adventure in balance. Her great, round belly made her feel like a cow at times, unwieldy and awkward. In other moments, when she caught a glimpse of her silhouette with her full breasts and plump bottom, and her hair grown out longer than it had ever been, she felt deliciously womanly and sexy.
An opinion that Alex was happy to share.
“Hey, gorgeous,” he called out from the top of the stairs to their basement
apartment, “I rented you a movie for tonight!”
The sound of the door shutting echoed down the stairs. Tabitha smiled tiredly. No matter how fat and exhausted she became, her husband never failed to make her feel better. She listened to him coming in, tromping down the plastic liner on the carpet.
“Shoes!” she reminded him, without turning.
“Shoes,” Alex grudgingly agreed, grumbling cheerfully as he turned back to the bottom steps.
Every speck of dirt showed in their tiny wall-to-wall cream carpet one-bedroom flat. Organization seemed to be the one goal that consistently escaped Tabitha’s grasp — there were copious piles of textbooks, binders, bills, used tea mugs, and discarded notes on every flat surface, marking her as a university student in her final year. The bright, open-concept main room had enough space for their two second-hand couches, the coffee table, a cheap wooden shelf for the cable-less TV and VCR, an overcrowded plywood computer desk, and their kitchen table. The boundary between the living space and eating space was marked by a large fruitless orange tree, the only plant that Tabitha had managed to avoid killing with love.
She called the plant “George”.
Tabitha’s inability to keep green things alive didn’t bother her as much as the clutter in their home. Alex never complained that they couldn’t actually eat at the table. The worn-in sofa cushions were fine, he reassured her; the baby certainly wouldn’t care. She plunked a decaffinated tea bag in her mug, eying the piles of clean laundry in the middle of the room that still needed folding. Her husband’s clean aprons and chef’s coats lay precariously on top of the largest pile, taunting her. She couldn’t procrastinate on the housework anymore, having finished her last essay for the term that morning. At least, with the baby so overdue, she had been able to complete her final assignments and would be awarded her degree. That was one worry she could finally put aside.
But the mess… If their home was going to be ready for the little stranger, she had to get busy after he changed and went to his second shift of the day. Alex did what he could to contribute, washing dishes, making meals ahead, and doing all the grocery shopping in the knowledge that Tabitha loathed those chores, but he had been working extra shifts for months to put extra money aside.
Who knew? Maybe a round of energetic cleaning would get things in the uterine department moving!
Download your copy today — http://www.melange-books.com/authors/anthologies/havingmybaby.html