Unlucky in Love

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Dominic asked for the bajillionth time. He was holding my hair back from my face and rubbing my back.

I nodded, and another round of vomit came up. I hadn’t even had anything to eat in the last two days—I couldn’t keep anything down. Ever since the New Year, I’ve been having extreme bouts of morning sickness. And the thing that sucked most about it was that I was almost in my third trimester and I was just now getting it.

So now it was the middle of February, and instead of shopping for Valentine’s Day or working on getting a job, I was leaning over a toilet, literally puking my guts up.

When I was done, I shakily stood up and brushed my teeth. I washed my face and stripped off my clothes and started the shower. Looking in the mirror, I hardly even recognized myself. My eyes were baggy and hollow looking; my skin was clammy and pasty. My hair was limp and looked unkempt…if I had looked like this with Emma, I doubt I’d even be having another baby.

I brushed out my hair and got into the shower, hoping it’ll make me feel at least a little better.

When I was done and dressed, I went downstairs and lay on the couch. We had come back to Portland, deciding California just wasn’t for us anymore. I’d adapted, unfortunately.

Dominic came in, holding a sleeve of Saltines and a bottle of ginger ale. He handed them to me wordlessly, and instead of fighting, I took it and popped a cracker in my mouth. I gagged slightly as it went down.

“When’s the appointment again?” I asked, my voice rough.

“One-fifty,” he replied, forcing me to eat more crackers.

I swallowed it down with some ginger ale. “And what time is it?”

“One. So we should get going soon.”

“Okay,” I murmured. I couldn’t believe how shitty I felt.

* * *

“Well, the little guy is smaller than we’d like him to be at this stage. You’re six months, right?”

“Almost,” I murmured. “I haven’t been able to eat. Do you think that has something to do with it?”

“Possibly,” my doctor said.

I sighed. “I just gag around food—even freaking crackers. I tried to eat an apple this morning, but after two bites I was throwing up.”

The doctor frowned, looking between the screen and me. “Did you have this problem with your first pregnancy?”

“Not really. I did eat raw cookie dough once, and that didn’t end too well. But other than that I was just fine.”

“Well, every pregnancy is different. Sometimes the baby just doesn’t want to cooperate. But it is very important that you get the nutrients into your system, for your sake and the baby’s.”

I nodded. “I can eat vegetables for the most part, but I can’t hold down meat or carbs.”

“Try plain chicken without seasoning. White meat, skinless and boneless. Just pair that with some veggies and see how that goes. But aside from that, it looks like there’s some pressure around the baby in the uterine walls—I’d like for you to be on bed rest for at least the next four weeks.”

Dominic and I exchanged a glance. “Is he okay though?” Dominic asked.

“As of right now I have to classify it as a high-risk activity. So, please, for the next four weeks try to refrain from unnecessary walking or sexual intercourse.”

“So basically I just have to lie around and get fattened up?” I asked with a smirk.

“Pretty much. And try to keep yourself entertained—have the remote with you or a stack of books. It can get boring. And as for you, Dominic, she has a significantly high blood pressure. You need to keep her calm.”

Dominic nodded, and I sighed. I didn’t want him to be my maid and my therapist.

* * *

“I’ve had food in my system for an hour now—I think that’s a good sign.” I told Dominic, curling up to him. It was a little difficult seeing as how I was nearly twice as big at sixth months than when I had been pregnant with Emma. “I think Max is starting to be nice to me.”

“He’ll warm up to you eventually,” he said reassuringly, and I nodded, smiling. It was the first time in weeks that I’ve felt okay.