by Aceves, Gigi
Moaning I answer, “Hmmm, chained to the bed, I like that.”
Kiss.
Nip.
Thrust.
“Under lock and key. . . .”
“Throw away the key. . . . oh God . . .” another moan leaves my mouth.
Another love bite on my lip, and a gentle thrust of his hips where each stroke is precise, hitting me at the right spot, sending me closer to the verge of a very powerful climax. Slow and sure. . . . steady yet sensual, he pushes us both to the brink of uttermost bliss as we both give into the wonderful world of orgasmic release fueled by love.
Once his breathing is back to normal, his lips are once again attached to my belly. Kissing once, twice and then he talks yet again to our little lentil.
“I’m sorry, baby. Mommy disturbed your sleep, and it’s definitely not my fault since she assaulted me.”
Shoving him I say, “What? I assaulted you?”
“Yes! You took advantage of my moment of weakness.” His smile disappears from his face as he sighs, “You’re okay, right? No pains, nothing?” His anxious green eyes make my heart hurt for him.
I squeeze his cheeks with my hands, pulling him in for a kiss. “I am fine. Stop worrying, instead let’s enjoy the moment, okay? I’m so happy; are you?” Looking into his eyes feels as though I’m looking into my own child’s. The depth of his love for me equals the love he already has for our unborn child—it’s something I can sense in his touch, in his words, but especially in his eyes. At this moment, there’s no trace of fear; there’s only love and hope shining through those emerald eyes.
BRIAN
Today is a big celebration for our group since Tami hit another milestone, passing the five and a half month mark, and Roxy gave birth to Corey, a bouncing baby boy two weeks ago. We’re temporarily staying in San Diego, renting a house with Roxy and Cody, which is within walking distance to the beach. Clean air, calm surroundings is what Tami needs. This is a huge deal for me. Now, I can see the path much clearer, Tami’s belly is growing with life inside it, and nothing . . . I mean nothing, can surpass my happiness at this point, other than the birth of our child. While flipping the burgers, my mind remembers every single thing we’ve experienced since she told me she was pregnant.
“If you don’t stop daydreaming, we’re going to eat crispy charred burgers, man,” Jake yells while rocking Jaelin in his arms.
After lunch, our parents put the kids down for a nap while we stay outside shooting the shit. Everyone relaxes and enjoys the silence that comes along with no child in sight.
Jake says, “Cody, why don’t you tell us about the time Roxy used toothpaste when she gave you a BJ.”
Cody’s smile leaves his face, and a frown settles soon after. Roxy and the girls are laughing like crazy, including Neil, of course.
Cody stands and points at Jake, then says, “You’re a user, man. You want to laugh at my dick’s expense?” He looks at Trish and demands, “Trish, you better lock away little miss kitty. I’ll give you enough catnip to last you a lifetime.”
“Oh, come on, now. You gotta tell us that story, again. That’s one for the books, Cody,” I start taunting him.
“Fine! I have to say, ‘do not try this at home kids.’” Facing his wife he says, “And you missy, you need to kiss it later.” He playfully wiggles his brow, then throws her a kiss.
Standing in front of us, he rubs his hands together. Cody starts, “You guys know, I love getting head. I mean, what guy doesn’t? Well, since we don’t have the green light from the doctor to commence our sexercise, my wife offered to suck me off, and I was like, shit let’s do this. I didn’t know I was gonna end up with a fucking-minty-fresh-burning-dick-with-fluoride-and-no-damn-tooth-decay while in her mouth!” At this point, we’re all laughing so hard. Jake’s on the floor with Neil and Trish, holding their stomachs, Roxy is sitting next to Tami, both covering their faces.
“She was sucking me off with a shitload of toothpaste in her damn mouth. Tartar, bad breath, nor cavities stood a chance, including my dick. It only took five seconds before my dick started burning like a damn old man with Bengay! I swear, my wife . . .” Cody points at her. “She’ll be the death of my dick!”
We are laughing so hard, I fail to hear Roxy call out to me. She pulls me and says in a panicky voice, fear clearly on her face, “Something is wrong with Tami!”
I turn around and rush toward her. Her head is slump on the table, groaning. “T, what’s wrong? Talk to me, please?”
“Brian,” she moans in pain.
“I’m right here. What’s hurting you? Where?”
With a pained whimper this time as she covers her eyes, she says, “I . . . I just don’t feel right. God, something is wrong. . . . something is wrong.”
“I’m taking you to the ER, right now.”
THANKFULLY, THERE’S NO BLOOD LIKE before, though there’s this gut feeling I can’t deny. It’s a slow burn that starts from the tips of my toes, but once it lands in my chest, it turns into ice—cold, unfeeling, and then dread settles in like a thick fog.
I won’t let it win, not this time.
“I’m scared. Something isn’t right. God, please I don’t want to lose him. . . . please. Don’t take him, again . . .” She says softly, but soon is followed by her pained whimpers that causes my already anxiety laden heart to skyrocket to the heavens.
“Not gonna happen, baby. Happy thoughts . . . think of happy thoughts. God wouldn’t take us this far for nothing, okay? We’re going to see our baby. Look at me, Tami.” Her panic stricken eyes stare back at me. I hate seeing fear in her eyes because it reminds me of how fear imprisoned me. “Let’s focus on breathing, okay? Right now, she’s inside of you, breathing because of you. I’m afraid—you’re afraid, but we shouldn’t be because of her.” She smiles when she hears me say ‘she’ for the second time. “What’s our choice going to be?”
Meekly, she whispers, “We’ll stand with her.”
“Good. As we should. So, no fear, alright? It’s you and me. I can’t do this without you, babe.”
She nods timidly and closes her eyes. Even though she can’t see me, I don’t allow the tears to fall or my own fears gawking at me to break my will. I don’t have the luxury to be afraid, even for a second. I can’t—I won’t.
I talk to her and our baby, whispering I love you’s, and reminding her about our dreams, our plans for us and our baby. Although in reality, my plans are nothing compared to His plans for us.
“We’re almost there. Breathe for me, T.” I watch her intently taking in and blowing out air. “Beautiful. Again.” I kiss her forehead, letting the warmth of my lips give her peace, just what her kisses do to me.
I don’t think I’ve ever made a deal with anyone as much as I’ve made deals with God since finding out she’s pregnant. Over and over, silently in my brain I bargain with God to take me and save both of them . . . He can have anything I own–take anything I need—ask anything of me as long as He doesn’t take the two most important people that make my world turn from me.
I carry her out of the car as soon as it comes to a full stop, telling her again and again to breathe for me. We’re quickly taken to a trauma bay in the ER where one very efficient nurse takes her vitals. Her eyes squint just a tad when she gets the first reading of her blood pressure, after that she’s got my full attention. Scrutinizing each facial movement as I hold onto Tami’s hand, giving it a few encouraging squeezes and more loving caresses.
Tami’s groaning in pain, and knowing she can’t have anything for it is killing me. “Tami, talk to me.”
“Something is wrong. . . . I’m feeling worse by the second. . . .”
I face the nurse and calmly ask, “How much longer?”
The abrupt departure of the nurse is like a bullet filled with doubts, but . . .
In my brain, I’ve killed that thought many times over.
In my heart, I’ve slammed my heart’s door on that lie.
In my entire being with
God right in front of me, no one can come through Him to get to my wife and child—no one.
Dr. Rosenthal walks in, thankfully my parents are here because whatever news she’s about to tells us will bring me to my knees.
Tami’s hold on my hand gets tighter by the second. My lips settle on her very cold hand as I kiss it every so often, hoping it gives her comfort—hope.
“Here’s where we are. Tami has what’s called Preeclampsia. There’s no known cause, but research shows it’s a result of the placenta not anchoring deeply within the walls of the uterus during the first trimester. Because of this abnormal placental formation, it can affect blood vessels and arteries, thereby, causing the blood pressure to rise. The only cure is to take the baby out. The protein levels in her urine, her BP reading, plus other factors are enough for me to put her on bed rest here in the hospital for her and the baby’s safety.”
“What are you saying exactly? She’s only five and a half months pregnant!” My voice firm, but my heart . . . my heart stops as the cold lies of doubt seep through me.
“I know, but if her blood pressure continues to rise beyond controllable levels without causing any damage to her overall health or risk to her life, delivery is the only option. Delivery is the only solution, but not the only answer. We can try and help her through medication to control her BP. We can also give shots to help the baby’s lungs to fully develop. There are other ways. I’m just saying, the ultimate solution if all else fails is to deliver the baby.”
My entire world stops spinning. It feels as if someone pulls out my heart and cuts it in half. How can delivery be on the table when . . . I know where this is leading to, and God knows, there’s no way . . . no way I could survive this. I start shaking my head in disbelief, or maybe denial, or maybe it’s my way of waking up from the confusion that has slowly invaded my body. How can this be happening to us?
“Her reading of 140/90 is high. My hands are actually tied when her BP goes higher than this. I have to take the baby at that point. With severe preeclampsia, which I think she’s leading to, she can have a stroke, platelet count could be compromised, and her liver functions will be affected. There are just a lot of things I, as a doctor, need to account for, including thinking of the well-being of the baby. But the truth of the matter is, there’s two ways this could turn out. I just want you to know what you’re facing. Her BP could spike up any minute, and I only have a small window of time to act. Trust me when I say, I will act. If we wait too long, we may lose them both. Is that something y’all could live with?” She looks me dead in the eyes and says, “Or, and I put emphasis on the ‘or,’ because it could very well happen, the meds could work. She’ll be on them until it’s safe for the baby to survive outside the womb. I’ve seen this happen time and time again, but each case is different. Let’s just hope for the best.”
For the first time, Tami speaks up, and she kills me with five simple words. “The baby is our priority.”
Opening my mouth without looking at her I roughly say, “Whatever is less risky or threatening to my wife’s overall health is what we’re going to do.”
Sensing tension between us, Dr. Rosenthal response diplomatically, “We’ll try our best to help both, Tami and baby, but we have to take it one day at a time. We can’t jump to conclusions that’ll stress her out even more.” Looking at my wife calmly she says, “I’ll have you moved to a room, okay?”
If there’s anyone who can understand us . . . what we’re feeling, what we’re thinking, and what we’re mostly afraid of is my mom and dad. As my mom stands next to Tami, she holds her hand while my dad stands next to me. His hand resting on my shoulder.
“Tami, my son will always fight for you, he may even choose you. But in choosing you, does that make him a terrible father? If he chooses the baby, would it make him a horrible husband?”
My father squeezes my shoulder and says, “If your wife wants to protect her child—your child, does that make her a terrible wife or a loving mother? Choices are always made in life. But, in this case, I don’t think there is a choice. I don’t think the choice is between Tami or the baby, but rather the choice to accept what is given to us. Let’s wait for the meds to work, and let nature take its course.”
“Don’t fight with her, Brian. She doesn’t need to be stressed. It’s bad for her and the baby. Open your ears to accept what’s the hardest to hear, and your arms to embrace the most hurtful of choices.”
My father moves between Tami and me. He grabs my hand and hers, sandwiching them with his strong rough ones. “If you can’t do it for each other, do it for my grandchild. Accept the situation with a clear head and an open heart. Let the vows you both gave each other that day be the sounding board of everything that needs to be done today.”
Without another word, they both leave and finally we’re alone to deal with the most excruciatingly painful decision any parent, or husband, or wife could ever make.
“I don’t want to lose you. I can’t survive it—won’t accept it.” I reach for her hand that now rests on her belly.
“I don’t. . . .” her voice cracks, then she takes a deep breath. “I don’t want that to happen, but I don’t want to lose our child. My heart can’t take that. Can yours?”
“My heart is already breaking, Tami. It can’t take anymore.”
“Don’t you want to get to know our child? See him, hold him . . . love him?”
Letting out a laugh I say, “So now, we’re having a boy? You finally agree with me.” Then, my smile disappears to answer her question. “It’s not even a question of do I want to see, hold, or love our child. God knows, I’ve been dreaming of it, but I want to love him, hold him, see him, enjoy everything about him with you. With you holding him while I hold you both. That’s what I want.”
Nothing but silence follows. I can hear her breathe while she can hear me. I can feel her fear while she can see mine etched on my face. There’s nothing we can hide from each other. Her pain, my fears, her wants, my needs, her love for me and my love for her, but ultimately what resonates within the four walls of this room is our love for our child.
She smiles the first genuine ‘Tami smile’ since this morning. “I can feel his strength when he moves. Every ripple he makes in my body reminds me of you . . . every kick . . . every moment. Brian, he is you inside me. How can I not want to sacrifice myself for him?”
I close the gap between us leaning toward her, capturing her face with my hands. “How can I choose him over you? How can I choose you over him? Is it too selfish to want you and him in my arms with me?”
“He hasn’t lived his life. He hasn’t taken his first breath.” Her eyes brimming in tears solidifies everything her heart wants as my heart weeps with her choice.
“You haven’t lived yours . . . your life with me and our baby.”
As I wipe her tears that find their path down her face she says, “He needs a chance.”
“And you need to have one, too.” Still refusing acceptance. “How do we decide, Tami? Help me to make one.”
Shaking her head as she cups my cheek, I lean into her touch. How can I lose someone who soothes every ache in me, but at the same time how can I lose someone I’ve always dreamed of loving—a little precious life I want to cradle in my arms.
“We don’t decide. We let Him. Papa is right; we need to accept what’s given to us because we can’t change it, Brian. When His will comes to pass, please, accept it with grace for me . . . I need you to do that for our child.”
I refuse to accept it. I don’t want anyone to make the choice. I don’t want there to be a choice. But in life, there’s always a choice . . . always that damn fork in the road—always taunting, so very daunting, which road you’ll choose . . . which path you’ll take. Unfortunately, for me and for everyone else, no one knows which path to pick, or which road to take, or if our fate has been chosen for us.
STOP
GO LEFT GO RIGHT
BRIAN
TWO MONTHS LATER
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TAMI’S PRIVATE ROOM IN THE hospital has been our home for the past two months with me glued to her side at all times. Her BP is never steady, it goes up then down, but thankfully, it hasn’t reached critical levels. Today we’re enjoying our time with the family who visits us every weekend without fail. Cody is sitting on the window ledge with Roxy between his legs, playing with her hair. Jake is on the recliner with Trish on his lap face-timing with the quads. Patti is stationed next to Tami while Jack is standing by the door talking to my dad. My mom is standing guard behind me, her comforting hand on my shoulder.
A nurse walks in with a bag in her hand which she immediately hooks up to Tami’s IV, then checks her BP, temperature, and the pulse/oxygen thingy on her finger. I let my hand, the one on her belly, move from side to side wanting to feel my baby move while comforting my wife at the same time.
“How are you feeling?”
“My head hurts . . . ,” she responds softly with furrowed brows.
“Do you want everyone to leave so you’ll have some peace and quiet?” I whisper as I kiss her jaw, wishing I could take her pain away.
I’m about to press the call button for the nurse when two of them walk in, just in time. All too soon, I’m shoved, pushed, then I hear Tami complaining of her chest hurting.
“Page Dr. Rosenthal, stat!”
Next thing I hear, our doctor is being paged, and everyone except Cody, Jake and me hover by the door hearing everything one nurse is saying to another.
“Her BP is up 160/110.”
Dr. Rosenthal appears out of nowhere and barks out orders, “Give me the reading. What’s the protein level this morning?” As she flips through the chart, she signals to the nurse closest to the door to get us out.
That’s when my heart stops beating. Everything around me seems to move in slow motion, and I find myself in the hallway with Cody on my right and Jake on my left, both holding my arms. When the door opens a few minutes later, my wife is being wheeled out.
