Topsy Turvy Kinda Love
hated needles; it’s probably why I stopped at one tattoo on my thigh when I went through my badass goth girl phase. Not that I’ve left that phase, but maybe a little growing up and becoming a little more normal is due. Through all of this, I have Brooks to thank.He’s there every time I wake up to pray to the porcelain god, which I’ve started calling Tiffany, every time I want food, the multiple times I just need him in the middle of the night when I rub against him so frantically just to get rid of the ache. I’m constantly horny, I know it’s shocking. So freaking horny all the time, well, except when I’m puking.
We’ve been sitting in the waiting room for fifteen minutes now, and I’ve got ants in my pants. My knee bounces up and down with the beat of the music playing softly overhead. Every woman or couple that walks through that door looks like they would make amazing parents. They’re dressed in normal clothes and have normal hair colors.
These couples look like they genuinely have their shit together, and then there’s me. Pink, purple, and blue hair in my black clothing and combat boots. Definitely winning every single creepy mom award. A hand squeezes my knee lightly to stop it from bouncing. My eyes find Brooks, and a smile crosses his perfect lips. A smile just for me, dimples showing.
“Hey, get out of your head. It’s going to be just fine, Pixie.”
“I know… I’m just…”
He leans over and kisses my forehead, resting there for a minute longer than necessary. “I know… me too. It’s going to be okay, though. Everything is going to be fine. Just a little bit longer before we get to see our little miracle in there.” His hand reaches over and rubs my still flat tummy. I love it when his big palm covers me. The amount of love he shows in one simple gesture overwhelms my hormones and I get sappy eyed.
The door opens, and we all look up, waiting to be the next name called. “Mia Preston.” I sit there for longer than I need to. Brooks slowly gets up, offering me his hand.
“It’s your turn, my pixie girl. You ready to see our baby?”
Tears form in my eyes and I resist crying. For once in the last few weeks, it’s a grateful feeling to be able to control that one simple instance. “Yeah, I’m ready.”
He smiles at me, and I give him my best mean face. “Don’t you dare laugh at me, Brooks Jansen. You’re the reason I’m in this position.”
Leaning over, he whispers in my ear, “I like when my little badass shows emotions, and I can’t wait to practice that position more when we get home, now get your cute little ass over there.” He pinches my butt, and I stick out my tongue at him.
A short huff and I walk toward the medical assistant, but a smile forms on my face anyhow. I can’t help it. I’m fucking over the moon happy… until she tells me to get on the scale. I know the inevitable weight gain is coming, and I mourn my sexy figure.
Twenty minutes later, my feet are secure in those terrible stirrup contraptions. I’m scooted to the very end of the bed, where I’m sure every single part of my hoohah and ass is hanging out. I can feel a damn breeze. Brooks sneaks a peek or two and then waggles his eyebrows at me. I narrow mine in return. He’s so mature—the father of my child, everyone.
The doctor is about to shove a big ass wand into my V that will probably be the most uncomfortable thing that’s ever been in there and that’s saying a lot.
The walls of this room are too white. Normally, I enjoy black and white, but today I want something less sterile. Something blue.
My attention turns to the little black and white screen to the right of the doctor. The doctor adjusts the wand once it’s inside and taps a few keys. You can tell Dr. Morgan has been doing this doctor thing for a while. She uses a calming tone, and her mellow-ness makes me feel less on edge. I haven’t smoked a good joint since I got knocked up, and I miss my weed. Or maybe just the calming effect it gives me, but I don’t want to do anything that will cause harm to my child.
Brooks has come to my side since checking out my lady bits. He holds my hand firmly and squeezes, letting me know it’s okay. He looks impatient as we wait to see our baby. Deep brown eyes firmly planted on the black and white screen like mine should be doing, but I can’t stop taking in this image of him being excited over something we created together. He’s been murmuring sweet words to me since the appointment started, knowing that he needs to calm my nerves.
He’s probably the only thing that could at this point. It’s been weeks since we found out I was pregnant. Ever since I came home, we decided to take it one day at a time, a step at a time. We’ve been learning about each other and working on more of our wish list items, but I’ve realized that it’s not about sex with us anymore.
Maybe it never really was…
Yes, the sex is hot, but it’s him that makes it so hot. It’s the way he cares for me. The way he’s been caring for our child who’s not even born. If I had to think about it, it hasn’t been about the sex for a while. It took some hard truths and a little pregnancy to make me realize it though.
Dr. Morgan clears her throat and points to the center of a circle. “There’s your baby, mom and dad.”
“Where?” I try squinting but my foggy eyes are heavy with unshed tears. Cue the waterworks. I start to panic, feelings crashing