Guppy.
Guppy.
John seemed very anxious to come to this appointment with me. He kept bouncing his leg and thrumming his fingers on his lap.
I sigh. “John, everything’s going to be fine. Why are you so nervous?”
"I’m not," he lies.
My name is called, causing him to sit up straighter in his seat. I take his hand, smiling. “You still want to come?”
He nods, rising from the waiting room chair and following me into the doctor’s office, Dr. Hopkins.
She comes in a moment later with a folder under her arm. “Welcome back, Mrs. O’ Callaghan. It’s nice to see you again.”
I notice John’s lips lift and mentally roll my eyes. My new last name was still fresh to him, after being married for three months, and he grew extremely happy whenever he heard someone call me that.
"And you brought your husband with you? I’m assuming this is him."
I grin. “That’s right.”
She holds out her hand. “Glad to have you here, John.”
He smiles politely, shaking with her. “My pleasure.”
The doctor turns to me and asks, “You’re here for an ultrasound, correct?”
I nod. Laying some transparent paper on the big hospital chair, she says, “Let’s get started, then.”
John pulls up a chair to sit next to me and hold my hand as I lay down. The doctor lifts my shirt up, spreading some cold jelly over my stomach. She rolls a machine closer to us, then presses something down on my lower stomach. I jump from the added coldness and John squeezes my hand. “Are you okay?” he asks worriedly.
"It’s just cold," I assure him, smiling. He got so cute when he was concerned.
My doctor stares at the monitor, while continuing to feel around my belly. A few minutes pass by in silence. I absentmindedly watch the black and blue static on the screen, gasping when a picture starts to form. The tiniest bubble was curled up in a ball.
"You’re a good few weeks in," the doctor chuckles. "The baby’s growing well. You can make out the hands and feet."
I look over to John, his expression wide-eyed and blank. I feel my heart sink. Was he afraid? Did the idea of actually having a child scare him?
He finally blinks. “I-it looks…it looks like a little guppy.”
I can’t help but laugh, relieved. “It does.”
His mouth curls into a lopsided smirk, and he looks at me with his slanted smile.
Guppy. I kind of liked it.
~*~one year later~*~
After giving Angela a bath, I tell John to put on her diaper and clothes then take her downstairs so I could feed her. At almost four months, she was quite a fan of applesauce, much to my surprise.
He was taking long, so I decide to check up on him. I hear Angela distant giggling as I reach the top of the stairs.
Still only in her diaper, her father was blowing on her stomach and playing with her tiny feet. She was shrieking and cooing with delight, smiling her toothless grin.
John chuckles, coming up for air. He rubs his nose against hers, baby talking. “Who’s my wittle pwincess? Huh?” He takes a deep breath and blows on her stomach. “Guppyguppyguppyguppy!”
She starts laughing again, her face red. He tickles her sides and nibbles on her neck.
I laugh. “Take it easy. Let the poor girl breathe.”
He smirks just as Angela takes some of his hair in her small fists. He makes a face at me and I roll my eyes. “Get her dressed.”
I head back downstairs, but not before hearing him whisper, “Mommy’s just jealous.”
Two minutes later, John finally brings her into the kitchen and places her in the high chair. His hair is all over the place after she’d finished fussing with it.
"I’ll feed her," he tells me when I approach with the applesauce and spoon.
I raise an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”
He nods, motioning for me to hand it over. Shrugging, I give him her meal and sit down next to them. I watch him make fishy faces at her the entire time she ate. He was such an idiot sometimes.
Once she’s finished, John cleans up and I turn on the TV for Angela. It was on a toddler channel and I hear John laugh from behind me. “Look, Angelfish. It’s your favorite show.”
I watch the little characters swim around. What were they, mermaids?
"What show is this?" I ask him.
He chuckles, wiping the corner of her mouth and cheek. “Bubble Guppies.”
I look at our daughter, who seems almost hypnotized by the cartoons on the screen. I laugh. Well, what do you know?
John scoops her up, still in her trance like state, and sits her in his lap, kissing the top of her head. “My little guppy.”
I had a feeling that nickname was going to stick.
I sigh. “John, everything’s going to be fine. Why are you so nervous?”
"I’m not," he lies.
My name is called, causing him to sit up straighter in his seat. I take his hand, smiling. “You still want to come?”
He nods, rising from the waiting room chair and following me into the doctor’s office, Dr. Hopkins.
She comes in a moment later with a folder under her arm. “Welcome back, Mrs. O’ Callaghan. It’s nice to see you again.”
I notice John’s lips lift and mentally roll my eyes. My new last name was still fresh to him, after being married for three months, and he grew extremely happy whenever he heard someone call me that.
"And you brought your husband with you? I’m assuming this is him."
I grin. “That’s right.”
She holds out her hand. “Glad to have you here, John.”
He smiles politely, shaking with her. “My pleasure.”
The doctor turns to me and asks, “You’re here for an ultrasound, correct?”
I nod. Laying some transparent paper on the big hospital chair, she says, “Let’s get started, then.”
John pulls up a chair to sit next to me and hold my hand as I lay down. The doctor lifts my shirt up, spreading some cold jelly over my stomach. She rolls a machine closer to us, then presses something down on my lower stomach. I jump from the added coldness and John squeezes my hand. “Are you okay?” he asks worriedly.
"It’s just cold," I assure him, smiling. He got so cute when he was concerned.
My doctor stares at the monitor, while continuing to feel around my belly. A few minutes pass by in silence. I absentmindedly watch the black and blue static on the screen, gasping when a picture starts to form. The tiniest bubble was curled up in a ball.
"You’re a good few weeks in," the doctor chuckles. "The baby’s growing well. You can make out the hands and feet."
I look over to John, his expression wide-eyed and blank. I feel my heart sink. Was he afraid? Did the idea of actually having a child scare him?
He finally blinks. “I-it looks…it looks like a little guppy.”
I can’t help but laugh, relieved. “It does.”
His mouth curls into a lopsided smirk, and he looks at me with his slanted smile.
Guppy. I kind of liked it.
~*~one year later~*~
After giving Angela a bath, I tell John to put on her diaper and clothes then take her downstairs so I could feed her. At almost four months, she was quite a fan of applesauce, much to my surprise.
He was taking long, so I decide to check up on him. I hear Angela distant giggling as I reach the top of the stairs.
Still only in her diaper, her father was blowing on her stomach and playing with her tiny feet. She was shrieking and cooing with delight, smiling her toothless grin.
John chuckles, coming up for air. He rubs his nose against hers, baby talking. “Who’s my wittle pwincess? Huh?” He takes a deep breath and blows on her stomach. “Guppyguppyguppyguppy!”
She starts laughing again, her face red. He tickles her sides and nibbles on her neck.
I laugh. “Take it easy. Let the poor girl breathe.”
He smirks just as Angela takes some of his hair in her small fists. He makes a face at me and I roll my eyes. “Get her dressed.”
I head back downstairs, but not before hearing him whisper, “Mommy’s just jealous.”
Two minutes later, John finally brings her into the kitchen and places her in the high chair. His hair is all over the place after she’d finished fussing with it.
"I’ll feed her," he tells me when I approach with the applesauce and spoon.
I raise an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”
He nods, motioning for me to hand it over. Shrugging, I give him her meal and sit down next to them. I watch him make fishy faces at her the entire time she ate. He was such an idiot sometimes.
Once she’s finished, John cleans up and I turn on the TV for Angela. It was on a toddler channel and I hear John laugh from behind me. “Look, Angelfish. It’s your favorite show.”
I watch the little characters swim around. What were they, mermaids?
"What show is this?" I ask him.
He chuckles, wiping the corner of her mouth and cheek. “Bubble Guppies.”
I look at our daughter, who seems almost hypnotized by the cartoons on the screen. I laugh. Well, what do you know?
John scoops her up, still in her trance like state, and sits her in his lap, kissing the top of her head. “My little guppy.”
I had a feeling that nickname was going to stick.