Somewhere in Neverland

These past few days have blended into one big blur where I can’t distinguish one day from another and most of the time I’m staving off pregnancy symptoms and complaining about how uncomfortable I am. I have to give Alex a whole lot of credit for not strangling me because if I were in his shoes, I would’ve given up a long time ago. But he’s stayed by my side faithfully the entire time he’s been home despite my raging hormones and random emotional outbursts.

As my due date quickly approaches, we’ve finally settled into a routine and have wrapped our minds around the idea of being parents. Between the physical demands of being nine months pregnant and the mental toll the hormones have taken, I’m more than ready to get the baby out of me. I thought I’d be a lot more nervous than I am about the idea of giving birth, but I’m so done with being pregnant that I’d gladly shove the thing out of my vagina right now so I no longer had to waddle around like a fucking penguin and constantly be paranoid about my blood sugar and the effects it’ll have on the baby. And for how nervous I was at the beginning of the pregnancy, I honestly can’t remember why. Alex and I are adults, we have a steady income, so far our relationship has withstood the test of time and distance, and he doesn’t seem to be going anywhere. If anything, I was nervous because I didn’t want to turn into my mother, but Alex has helped assure me that it’s never going to happen.

“It’s just a waiting game now,” Dr. Rhodes says as he pulls off his gloves and Alex helps me to sit up. I cross my legs to cover myself as best as I can in the gown and look to the doctor to continue. “You’re still only about 3 centimeters, but you’re 70% effaced, so your body is still working towards labor.”

“I just want it out,” I whine. “Can’t you induce me or something?”

He laughs and shakes his head. “You don’t want to be induced. It’s a lot more miserable than waiting for nature to take its course. Plus you’re not past your due date and your pregnancy is going quite well, so there’s no need to induce,” He pauses and gives me a reassuring smile. “Patience is a must at this point. It’ll come when it’s meant to. In the meantime, nest and get everything ready. Let your maternal instincts take over and distract her,” He eyes Alex.

“I’ve been nesting for days,” I groan, kicking my feet a little due to impatience. “I finally feel like we’re ready and now we have to wait. Plus these stupid Braxton Hicks contractions are confusing me!”

Dr. Rhodes smiles and nods to show he understands what I’m saying. I’m sure I sound irrational and impatient, but in my own defense, I do have a parasite feeding on my body for life. Granted, that parasite is my child, but it’s still doing awful things to me, both physically and mentally.

“You’re going to miss being pregnant on those long, sleepless nights,” He reminds me. “And a lot of women have told me they miss feeling the baby kick and move around; that it’s sort of a comfort that they miss.”

“Not me, doc,” I shake my head firmly. “I’m so ready for this to be over with and to have my baby in my arms.”

“Any day now,” He nods with a smile before turning to wash his hands. “And the next time I see you will hopefully be at the hospital on this little peanut’s birthday.”

“What happens if I don’t progress any further than this?” I ask suddenly. “I’ve been at 3 centimeters for a week now. What if I get to my due date and nothing happens?”

He grabs a paper towel and blots his hands dry and smiles at how paranoid I’m being. “Then we work from there. If you reach your due date and your endocrinologist thinks it’s affecting your readings, then we’ll induce. If that doesn’t work, there’s always the C-section route, but that’s not gonna happen.”

Dr. Rhodes continues answering all the ridiculous and paranoid first time parent questions Alex and I come up with until we seem satisfied that everything going on right now is completely normal and that nothing is out of the ordinary. I think it’s just the leftover nerves of realizing the next time I see Dr. Rhodes will be with him pulling a human being out of my lady bits that make me a little bit more reluctant to just accept his explanations as fact, but it takes longer than usual to get us out of the office.

“I’m so hungry I could eat a small cow,” I groan as I lower myself awkwardly into the car. “And I could drink a liter of water because I think my blood sugar is sky high right now.”

“Why? You literally haven’t had anything that would make you go high today,” He says, pulling out of the parking lot and begins navigating his way back to our house.

“Diabetes does what it damn well pleases sometimes and nothing that I do will change that.”

The doctor’s office is only about a ten minute drive from our house and when Alex pulls into the driveway, I immediately rush out of the car to make it to the bathroom. High blood sugar and late term pregnancy are devil bitches when coupled together and it’s as though Niagara Falls is trying to escape from my bladder.

But as I sit on the toilet, I can’t help but feel that something isn’t right. Maybe that’s not the right way to put it. Something feels different. Maybe it’s the high blood sugar and the stupid Braxton Hicks contractions, but my mind is telling me that something big is in the works.

Of course it is, idiot. You’re having a fucking baby. I mentally tell myself as I stand awkwardly and shimmy my pants up my legs before washing my hands and exiting the bathroom to find my meter.

Alex is lying on the couch with his nose buried in a baby name book, flipping frantically through the pages.

“What do you think about Maya?” He asks without putting the book down.

I gather supplies for a site change in the hopes a new one will lower my blood sugar and contemplate the name.

“I don’t hate it,” I say, pulling insulin into the reservoir and tapping the air bubbles out of the tube. “But I don’t particularly like it, either. Besides, I feel like every name you ask me about is a girl name. What if we have a boy? We’re shit out of luck on that front.”

“I feel like we both know that if we have a boy we’re naming him Jack,” He answers matter-of-factly, laying the book down in his lap to look at me. I don’t argue with him and instead focus my attention on the needle I’m about to jab into the back of my arm.

After the site is successfully stuck to my arm and the garbage is thrown into the trash, I return my attention to the talk of names.

“So, you’d want to name our son Jack?” I ask with a hint of humor as I curl up on the couch next to him.

He nods.

“Why?”

“Because it’s a kickass name and because of the meaning and connection behind it,” He shrugs.

I think about it for a minute. “That may be the sweetest and gayest thing I’ve ever heard. I’m down.”

“Why was that so easy, but we can’t agree on girl names?”

“Because you won’t fucking give in and accept that we should name our daughter Cadence!” I try to be as humorous as I can be, but the fact that we still can’t agree on shit is worrisome. Our kid is gonna get here and be fucked in the name department if it’s a girl.

He gives me a skeptical look. “Because that’s not a name, it’s a word.”

“Then what do you propose we name our kid if it’s a girl?” I ask, exasperated.

“I’ve told you the names I like!” He gets defensive and I don’t exactly blame him. I shoot down his suggestions just as quickly as he shoots down mine.

“Calm your tits and tell me again,” I playfully smack his shoulder and he rolls his eyes.

“Well, I did like Annabelle, Lila, Nora, and Avery, but you seemed to hate them,” He pouts.

“I didn’t hate them; I just didn’t particularly like them, either! And I told you I liked Anna, but you weren’t having any of that!”

He shakes his head. “No, so I compiled another list and if we can’t agree on a name, then we’ll obviously end up with a daughter named Reptar.”

“That seems only right,” I agree.

“Sadie,” He pauses to examine my face.

“Eh,” I offer.

“Charlotte?”

I scrunch my nose. “It’s not my style. It’s not bad, just not for me.”

“Emily,” I shake my head. “Ruby?”

“That’s a word, not a name,” I mock.

“Molly?” He looks desperate at this point, but I merely shake my head.

“Looks like we’re naming it Reptar if it’s a girl!”

While Alex gives me this incredulous look telling me he hasn’t given up just yet, my phone begins to vibrate in my pocket. I shove my hand haphazardly into my pocket to retrieve it and see Isobel on the screen. I quickly swipe my finger to answer the call, remembering they’re flying in any day now.

“Hello,” I answer and Alex raises his eyebrows curiously.

“Hi, Caroline! I called you because I knew my son wouldn’t answer his phone,” She says and I smile, knowing she’s right. “I just wanted to make sure you know our flight details and everything because Alex forgets a lot of important information.”

I laugh and see his eyebrows furrowed in thought, off in his own little world and completely oblivious to the conversation I’m having with his mother. “Yeah, he is rather forgetful,” I agree, thinking it’ll snap him out of whatever daze he’s in, but he’s too far gone to get through.

She tells me all the flight details and I write them down on a random notepad that I find in a kitchen drawer as Alex continues pondering whatever thought is going on in his mind. When I hang up, I sit back down on the couch next to him and he looks at me like he has this great idea.

“What about Isobel?” I say before he has the chance to say anything. He looks confused. “I was thinking about it when I was on the phone with your mom. I think it’s pretty, it has good connotations, and I think Izzy is an adorable nickname.”

“Izzy Gaskarth?” It comes out like a question, but I can tell he’s thinking hard about it. “Izzy,” He says again. “I kinda like it. It’s spunky.”

“But I like the I-S-A-B-E-L-L-E spelling better,” I boldly announce. “It’ll give it a more individual feeling, you know? Like it’d still be connected with your mom, but she’d have her own, individual spelling.”

“I like it,” He smiles the most genuine smile I’ve seen from him in a long time.

“So it’s settled then? Jack or Isabelle?” He nods. “And what were you gonna say earlier? You looked like you were deep in thought.”

“Oh, I was gonna say I wanted tacos for dinner.”

Dear, lord…