Is the 'I Love You' Worth It?

Five months pass, and we don't have another tiff. Since Tre got home, we've been getting along so well. Save that one fight, but that was really just us readjusting to each other, I think. I hope. Anyway, we've been getting along so well, it amazes even me. No motherly interventions, nothing. I think my mom finally got that I don't want anything to do with her. Finally. Two months ago, we ponied up and bought a house. It's so nice. Better than that shitty apartment we were living in. And it's large. Huge, I mean. Gy-fuckin'-normous, as Tre puts it. It's in a really nice neighborhood, with an elementary school just a few blocks away. Perfect for when the baby reaches school age. That was my call. Also, the bathroom. That was my decision too. It's got marble sinks and countertops. A bath AND shower. Both. And not connected either. I mean I know it's so unnecessary, but I mean come on. Both! His and her sinks, which is good, as Tre isn't the most considerate in the neatness department. I swear I spent the first three days after we'd moved in soaking in the tub.

For the past two days, we've been working on the baby's room. We decided to wait to find out what the gender is until the baby's born, so we're doing the room's décor in green and purple. We didn't want to make it blue and pink because they're too obvious. But purple and green are pretty ambiguous.
"So," I say, perched on a stool reading a baby name book that's balanced on my distended belly. "We should probably decide on names soon."
"I don't know," Tre shrugs. He's almost finished painting the fourth wall green.
"Yeah," I sigh. "All of these in this book are pretty lame. I mean all of them are like 'no, no, no, no'," I laugh.
Tre chuckles. "No Ashley, Jordan, Caitlin, how ever you spell it."
I roll my eyes. "Kaitlin with a K, Katlyn with a K and Y, Katelyn with a K Y E."
"I hate that. It's like name your kid a fuckin' name, not whatever."
"I guess we can think on it," I say
"Well, give me some options," he says refilling his brush and flicking it at me.
"Hey," I say chucking a roll of blue masking tape at him, missing and flying out the open window. Tre gives me a silly grin and climbs back on the stacked milk crates doubling as a step ladder.
"Give me some options. You know, some that you like."
"Oh, I don't know," I sigh. "This is hard."
"Just go," he says stretching up to reach higher than the milk crates allow him.
"Okay, just some names I like? Uh," I thumb through the book. "Anwyn, that's pretty."
"Pretty weird," Tre scoffs and I give him a look. "I was teasing, jeesh."
"Well, what are your ideas, smartass?" I say.
He shrugs. "I don't know. How 'bout naming it after you if it's a girl?"
"No." I say.
He looks at me.
"No. I hate my name. It's too weird."
"Okay, okay," he laughs. He taps the handle of the paintbrush on his chin.
"Hmm," I say rubbing the top of my stomach. I know Tre is bothered when pregnant women do this, but it really itches. Tre's a loser anyway.
"I guess well figure it out. I mean it's not like we need a name right now,' he says flicking his wrist, sending paint flying at me.
"Stop!" I say chucking the book at him. He ducks and it slaps against the wet wall, sliding down and landing in a heap on the sheets covering the floor.
"Glad I made you put the sheets down?" I say. He rolls his eyes and stoops over to pick up the book.
"Hey," he says wiping the a paint on his hands on his pants. He holds the book open. "What about this."
He hops over the paint pans on the floor and lands next to me. He points to the name Ramona in the book. "You know," he says sliding his arm around mine, "Like the song."
"The song?"
"Yeah, you know, 'Ramona'," he tries to remind me. "The Ramones... "
"Oh," I say remembering. "Yeah, yeah." I shrug. "I don't know. We'll figure it out eventually."
***

Two weeks later...

We're finishing the baby's room today. The walls are done, the crib is set up. We bought curtains, bedding, ect yesterday, and Tre's putting the curtains up now.
"How's it coming along?" I ask, rubbing my side as I come into the baby's room. Tre's balanced on those milk crates again, hammering up the curtain rods.
"Okay, I guess," he says banging in the final nail. "I just have to put the actual curtains on, then I think I'm done with this stuff."
"Cool, great," I say hugging around his waist. He smiles down at me and jumps off the crates. He loses his balance and falls into me.
"Careful!" I laugh. "Please don't hurt yourself."
He cackles into my shoulder. "I'm okay." I wrap my arms around him.
"When you get the curtains up, I think the room's gonna be done."
"Do you have to put the blankets and stuff in the bed thingy?" he asks, pulling me into a hug.
"I did that this morning," I point to the crib. "You were out, and I couldn't fall back asleep."
"How come?" he says cocking his head. I shrug.
"I don't know. I just felt kind of weird. Uncomfortable, I guess," I say.
"Oh." He looks at me oddly before scooping me up and carting me over to the puffy oversized chair we bought a while ago. He dumps me into it and climbs in next to me. "This is big, huh?"
I nod, rub my side agian and snuggle into his chest. It is big- big enough for both of us to curl up in. "I could fall asleep in it."
Tre laughs. "Yeah. I know what you mean." He closes his eyes and leans his head back against the back of the chair. I shift in the chair. I cannot get comfortable. My stomach sticks out so far that I've practically lost any depth perception I might have had to begin with. I'm so paranoid about running into a wall or something. I shift again and notice that's Tre's fallen asleep, so I cuddle into his shoulder and drift off to sleep.

I wake up to Tre shaking me. "Lisea, you're making my arms fall asleep." He shakes me again and I wake up fully.
"I gotta pee," I say pulling myself off him and out of the chair. I rub my side and turn for the door.
"You always have to pee," he laughs, sitting up in the chair. "And you grope your stomach a lot too."
"The baby uses my bladder as a soccer ball. And it's my side, not my stomach," I say heading to the bathroom down the hall. There's a dull pain in my side. "Come on," I say to the baby, placing my hand on my stomach. "Stop being a whore."
I make it into the bathroom and look at myself in the mirror. I look really tired. But the urge to pee is too great and I waddle over to the toilet area of our massive bathroom. My side bothers me again and I'm guessing it's just the baby kicking, so I push back gently. Most of the time that works. But not this time. Sighing, I give up and plop down on the toilet. Immediately, a huge amount of water gushes into the toilet. Shit. My water just broke. I pee and wash my hands at my part of the sink, trying my damnest to keep calm.
"Tre?" I call from the hall as I open the bathroom door.
"Heh?" he yells back. I look over and he's standing in the middle of the hall, pantsless.
"What are- why aren't you wearing pants?" I sigh. I really can't deal with him and his aversion to pants right now if I'm really going into labor.
"I was changing them," he says as if it was obvious. "I spilled burrito on my other ones."
"What?" I start to say, but shake the question out of my head. "Tre, I think my water just broke."
"Huh?" he says looking at me with a blank look on his face.
"I said I think my water just broke. Like, I think the baby's coming."
His eyes bug out before he turns and breaks into a run to our bedroom.
"Tre!" I call, leaning on the wall as I make my way down the hall. "I need you."
He emerges from our room, no with pants and runs over to me. "It's going to be okay!"
I nod and lean on him. He breaks away from me and starts pacing up and down the area of hall between the wall and our door. "Okay, okay," he says, mostly to himself. "Okay."
"Tre," I say, grabbing his arm to make him stop moving. "We need to go to the hospital."
"Oh yeah, yeah," he says frantically, breaking out of my grasp and jogging down the stairs.
"Tre!" I yell down the stairs. I sigh and grasp the banister to steady myself as I go down the stairs. Now I'm starting to nervous. I'm not really in any pain, just the random side pains. I guess they're not really pains, more pressure than anything. I make it down the stairs to find Tre sitting on the couch with his face buried in his hands.
"Honey?" I say quietly, going to his side. "Tre?"
He looks up at me with big scared eyes. "I don't know what to do," he whispers. I hug him and try to ignore my side pain coming back. "It's okay," I say. "I just need you to drive me to the hospital. That's all. It's going to be okay."
He nods and blinks a few times. "It's going to be okay," he says, breathing deeply. I nod and pull his arm gently.
"All I need you to do is drive me there, and the hospital will take care of us when we get there," I say calmly.
He sighs and nods, whispering, "When do we have to go?"
"Uh, like now," I say as a wave of pain - actually pain this time- shoots through my abdomen. Tre can tell I'm in pain.
"Okay, okay, let's go," Tre says. He takes a deep breath and gets up off the couch, jogging to the front door.
"I can't go that fast," I say. Tre zips back and helps me off the couch, out the front door and into the car.