Marital Bitch (22 page)

The nurse decides to throw me a bone and smiles softly. "It's okay, Mr.
Patrick. Lots of women have trouble controlling their bladders when they're pregnant." I pause before responding and think about that. For a few weeks I've had the subtle suspicion on the back of my head that Colleen might be pregnant. I wasn't sure and I thought I might be crazy or it might be wishful thinking; but I didn't have anything else to explain her insanity and weight gain.

"She's not—or we don't know that she is," I fumble over my wo
rds; the nurse smiles and nods.

"She is," she says, "I can tell these things." And then she walks out and returns with an orderly who brings in a fresh bed and some supplies. After a few minutes of prodding the nurse convinces
Colleen to open the bathroom door and to accept the offered hospital gown. Her small, pale hand slips out, grabs the gown, and jets back in. After some time, she even lets the nurse in the bathroom with her. When she emerges, she's wearing a hospital gown and I'm, thankfully, in a fresh bed and new gown myself. Unfortunately, I also had to undergo a sponge bath from Alejandro, a very nice, but very male nurse.

"Waddle on over here, pretty girl and tell me what you're thinking," I grin. Her face is fuller than it used to be. If this was two months ago, that gown would be like a tent, but now it gently hugs her hips and her breasts appear much larger. She's lo
oking shy and a little nervous.

"I think that first test was wrong, but I'm scared for it to have been right." I nod, understanding that. The negative results from the first test were really hard on her. I don't want her going through that again, but damn if I wouldn't feel better if she were knocked up and not just a drive-by peer. There's a lot I'll live with, but getting peed on in the middle of the night is not one of them
—not on a routine basis anyway.

Colleen
walks up to me but doesn't crawl in the bed. "I don't want to pee again," she confesses. I reach over and grab her by the hips and pull her up against the bed, letting my hands travel. She squirms under my touch, uncomfortable in her own skin.

"Please let me touch you." I continue to let my hands travel up and down her sides before I go for the gold. She tries to pull away when I touch her st
omach, but I refuse to let her.

"Whether this is all you or this is a baby, I love
you just the same. I'm not going to judge you, pretty girl." Her body begins to relax and I continue to feel the shape of her abdomen. I'd be lying if I said I could tell from touching her, but I can't.

"That damn nurse made me pee in a cup
," she mutters. I laugh loudly.

"You mean you had more in you
after that water show?" She smacks my arm and laughs.

"Yo
u pee on someone once over a thirty-five year period and they just can't let it go," she smiles ruefully, lips pursed, and giggling.

"When I said I wanted to get you wet, that wasn't exac
tly what I meant, pretty girl."

"Shut up," she s
ays, still in a fit of giggles.

"I love you," I say. She mouths it back to me. It sounds natural, as it should. Loving
Colleen is the most natural thing in the world for me. I don't know another way; but her loving me back still catches me off guard.

The nurse pops her head in just as we're about to kiss. We both turn to her, suddenly a collective ball of nerves, and she nods her head, smiling and mouths 'congratulations'. I lean in and ghost my lips over
Colleen's ear as the nurse closes the door to give us some privacy during this very big, life-changing moment for us.

"So, if you're going to be peeing for the next few months, we're going to have to get you a diaper, pretty girl." She turns her head and narrows her eyes at me, full of playfulness; and then breaks into a big, teary grin.

"We're having a baby," she whispers. I nod. We're having a baby.

(Colleen)

Our babies
.

I SIGH AND
blink back my exhaustion that has been creeping up on me for months now. It seems every time I think I turn a corner, something else pops up. First it was the throwing up—all of the freaking time—and then it was the persistent peeing. I flatly refuse to broach the topic of my bowel movements. Brad must love me to survive it.
He really loves me.

"Are you almost ready?"
Brad calls out from the hallway with his toothbrush in his mouth. I give him a dirty look and point down to my bare feet.

"Do I look ready to you?" I ask. We're two days away from Christmas and it's freezing cold outside. I can't ver
y well parade outside barefoot.

"Don't be such a smart ass, pretty girl," he says and runs the toothbrush over his teeth and smirks. "I've got enough dirt on you that you're gonna want to be nice to me."
I scrunch up my nose and pout.

"You start telling my secrets and no more belly for you!" I grin devilishly and rub my expanding belly.
His eyes grow wide and he darts into the bathroom. Moments later he's rushing out and giving me a warning look.

"That belly is half mine!" he objects and stalks toward me. I scoot back on the bed and put a pillow over my mid-frame. It doesn't do much to hide it, but I'm running ou
t of things to cover ye old belly.

"Nu uh, pal," I smirk and hold the pillow tight against me. "That baby is half yours. The belly is all mine."
Brad reaches out and removes the pillow. He leans in and I can feel his breath on my neck.

"Are you going to stop me from getting some cuddle time with my belly, pretty girl?" I giggle and nod my head. Being in love with
Brad hasn't been all romance and hot sex. Actually, it's been mostly bickering, gas, and back pains; but we're in it together.

Slowly,
he leans me back on the bed and he lies down beside me and places his hand on my baby bump. I try to smack him away but he leans in and bites my ear.

"Did you just b
ite me?" I ask, because really?

"Di
d you just hit me?" he retorts.

I shake my head slowly and smile at him. I feel a rumble in the depths of my belly and my face heats up. This has been happening on the regular the past few weeks, but it doesn't make every gassy incident any less embarrassing. But the
n something unexpected happens.

Just as I'm preparing to embarrass myself and send
Brad running for fresh air, I feel movement, like a swishing, and then pressure from the outside in, just under Brad's hand. I'm silent, unsure if I should say anything. But then it happens again. Brad is frozen, eyes fixed on my belly where his hand lie, and a smile on his face. The baby kicked. I start crying immediately.

The past few months have been an emotional mess to say the least. From my birthday on, I've been experiencing things that bring even more tears to my eyes. For so long I had wanted to love and be loved in return, and I had been at a point where I didn't think it would happen for me. I had given up and quit going out. I had given myself over to work, and had accepted that my days and nights would consist of pleadings and correspondence, and summons, and The
Toad.

But when I had given up and thought that I wouldn't find whatever it was I had been missing, I did. And even more, I found it in the one person I never expected:
Bradley Patrick.

And he's here with me and our baby. The baby I thought I wasn't having. The baby I thought was all second-serving weight and depression. The baby that didn't bring us or keep us together; but is now so integral to who we are that it's unimaginable that he or s
he not be here: our baby.

Brad
holds me and I think I hear him sniffle, but I don't bring it up. I'm always amazed and caught off guard when he's as moved by this pregnancy as I am. For such a tough guy, he's a big softy.

"Someone loves their daddy," I whisper and hiccup. He kisses my forehead
. We stay like that for a few more minutes before Brad pulls away. If we don't get a move on we're going to be late for our doctor's appointment with the OBGYN.

Slowly but surely,
Brad helps me get my shoes on. The man is a great cop, but he's also a pretty darn good husband. And I'm just happy that his toe is all healed up. He sure is a damn baby when he's not feeling well.

I HATE THE
OBGYN. Dr. Roth is a lovely woman, she really is; but damn it to hell, I don't think she's ever warmed her hands up before an exam. In addition, those plastic gloves she wears aren't exactly warm, either. So every exam I feel like I'm being poked and prodded by the ice cream man. It's unnerving. That wasn’t even the hard part, though. When Dr. Roth explained the increased risks associated with babies born to women my age, I freaked out and couldn’t breathe. Brad was able to eventually calm me down by telling Dr. Roth that we didn’t want to hear anymore.

This is our baby, will always be our baby, and we don’t give a damn what risks are associated with the pregnancy. Nothing is going to stop us from having our baby. And I loved him so much in that
moment; I didn’t know what to do with myself. Dr. Roth has tried to do her duty as my doctor to prepare us for the big, scary stuff. But neither of us want to hear it. This baby is wanted and loved and for us, that’s all that matters.

"Hold still, Mrs.
Patrick," Dr. Roth says gently. She's spreading that damn goo all over my stomach again. The thing is that even after she cleans it off, I can still feel it on there, like a film that won't go away.

"Yeah, quit squirming, pretty girl,"
Brad shoots me the eye. He's standing beside me, holding my hand. We're having an ultrasound today that should tell us if we're having a Margot or a Madison—Madison being a boy. My name choices, not his.

"It's cold," I whine and bat my eyes at him, like there's something he can do.
He rolls his eyes.

"Suck it up, you baby," he smirks down at me and my pouting face. After we had our big 'I love you' moment, I thought I'd have more sway with him. I thought maybe batting my eyes would be the golden ticket to getting my way. In reality, I don't have any more sway than I did before. I still have a lot, but I'd been hoping for more.
Lindsay tells me that I'm power hungry.

Dr. Roth takes the wand from the ultrasound machine and
holds it inches above my belly. "Are we ready to find out what we're having?"

"Hell yes,"
Brad grins. We're at our sixteen-week check-up. During the last ultrasound we couldn't tell the baby's sex and there was some initial concern about the amount of weight I've put on. Apparently, at sixteen weeks, my body has managed to gain all I'm supposed to gain for the entire duration of this pregnancy. Brad tried to comfort me by assuring me that it was our son's boy parts that are causing the excessive weight gain. He's assuming we're having a boy—either that, he says, or we're having one chubby girl. He's a jackass, but he's my jackass.

Dr. Roth brings the wand down to my belly and starts to move it around. We can hear the baby's heart beating. It sounds really fast, but
Dr. Roth says that it's normal.

The image on the screen is a little fuzzy, making it difficult to see my baby. Despite the weight gain, despite the cold goo on my belly, despite everything, this is my baby and he or she is the reason we're here
. All I want is to see my baby.

"This," Dr. Roth points to a bean-shaped object, "is your baby." I stare at it for what feels like several minutes.
Brad is silent. The only reason I know he's still in the room is because he's holding my hand. I can't take my eyes off the screen.

The little bean moves and the whole screen looks like it's sloshing around. I blink a few times and squint at the screen. Now I'm seeing two beans. My gut reaction is that I've got a deformed baby and it has two heads. I automatically begin to worry about my baby being picked on by the kids who only have one head and I resolve to tell my baby that he or she… or them… are just so special because they have two heads. And you know what they say about that: two heads are better than one.

"My baby has two heads!" I point at the screen and cry out. Just because I've decided to make sure my two-headed baby is loved beyond comprehension doesn't mean the idea of raising a two-headed baby doesn't scare the crap out of me. At least my two-headed baby's daddy carries a gun. That ought to resolve some of the teasing.

"Mrs.
Patrick, please calm down," Dr. Roth smiles. She reminds me that there are risks associated with this pregnancy for me as well. She's all calm and collected like two-headed babies are a dime a dozen. Bitch. "You do see two heads, but look at this," she says. I follow her finger as it traces a line on the screen I can hardly distinguish. There's definitely two beans.

"Two heart beats, two tiny, growing little bodies," she concludes and stares at us like we're supposed to finish that for her. My brain is, unfortunately, still stuck on t
he whole two-headed baby thing.

"Two?"
Brad asks and I'm snapped out of my fantasies of clothes shopping for my extra special child and the difficulties such a task would include. I don't think Sears carries clothing for two-headed babies.

"Two,"
Dr. Roth nods and smiles. Two?

Holy shit.

Two.

"So, my baby doesn't have two heads?" I ask
in disbelief. Brad laughs and kisses my forehead. Twins run in both of our families, so this wasn’t an impossibility. We spend a few moments letting that sink in. I'm not worried about two. Not at all. I'm just happy to have a baby at all. Having two is a bonus.

"This is fucking awesome,"
Brad says, and then apologizes to Dr. Roth. He’s been working on his language in preparation for the baby. Babies.

He's still grinning but there's a bit of water in his eyes. "Can we tell what they are?" Always the eloquent one.

"Well, this one," Dr. Roth continues to move her finger across the screen, "is a boy."

Brad
cheers loudly. I stare up at him because as goofy and ridiculous as he is, I can't wait to have a little boy running around just like him. But God help me, Brad has a big head. I hope our baby boy's head is a little smaller at birth or my vagina is in serious trouble.

"Are they both boys?" I ask, half giddy and half terrified at the idea. I do have an older brother, so I remember what little boys are like. Two of them could set fire to the entire city in a matter of minutes; especially
Brad's boys.

"It seems baby number 2 is being shy today. I can't make out its gender." Dr. Roth tells us that we can try again at the next ultrasound. So for today we'll leave the ultra
sound knowing that baby number one is a little boy (although Dr. Roth says that both are quite large for twins at their current gestation and seem to be very healthy); and we'll just have to wait until the next time to find out if he has a brother or a sister.

AS THE WEEKS
progress and I increase in size, I've taken to staying home more. Not that I have a ton of reasons to leave the house. As it turns out, my quitting my job was the "best thing [I] ever did" according to Brad. In the months that have passed since then, I have often wondered if I'll ever go back to working at a firm. For now, I have Brad’s internship keeping me busy. As it turns out, there’s a lot more red-tape involved than I thought, but my dad has been guiding me through the process of who to talk to and how. Hopefully by this time next year we’ll have the first round of at-risk kids interning at the station and in line to receive scholarships to the academy if they qualify. Lately I’ve been hounding the Red Sox to get involved, but haven’t gotten to speak to the right people yet.

The internship takes up a good bit of time, but I have been doing plenty of
lying around, too. Sometimes I even lay around at Darla and James’s house with the kids. I mean, I do some things around the house: the laundry, dishes, and the cooking; but I'm bored. I'm bored out of my mind, so I've been thinking about what I'll do after the babies get older and don't need me for everything anymore. This internship won’t last forever. Then again, judging by the way my own mother and James interact, some children need their mothers well into their 30s. For a brief moment, I beam at the idea of my babies never leaving me.

Today is one of my rare trips out of the house. It's not so easy moving around anymore. I'm nearly eight months along now and my babies are growing strong and healthy. We still don't know the sex of baby number
two. The little bugger is good at hiding behind his or her brother. We also still don't have names picked out for either of them just yet. Sadly, Brad has officially nixed Margot and Madison.

The grocery store is pretty empty
, and thank God for it. The holidays have come and passed and with it have gone the crowds. We nearly starved in all of December as I'd been boycotting standing in lines with my swollen ankles and pea-sized bladder.

"
Colleen?" A soft voice calls behind me. I set down the box of cookies I've been eyeing and turn to see none other than Heather standing before me. I'm so surprised I nearly pee myself.