SY 05_Say Yes: Forever

by Amelia Mae

“I promise you never have to,” I assure her.

  “I miss working,” she says. “I miss feeling like I’m in control of my body. I miss being able to walk without thinking about finding a place to sit and rest every five minutes.”

  “I know.”

  “I want my life back. My pre-pregnancy life. Does that make me selfish?” She sounds genuinely concerned.

  “Of course not.”

  “’Cause I feel selfish when I say it,” she says. “I feel like I’m supposed to be happier…”

  “You’re not happy?” I ask, cutting her off.

  “No, of course I’m happy,” she says. “Ian, I love you so much. And I love this baby. I’m so excited to meet her. I just… I sort of hate being pregnant.”

  I smooth the hair from her face, only marginally relieved.

  “I think I just see way too much on social media or whatever from expectant mothers who are loving being pregnant. They henna their baby bellies and put flower crowns on it. I don’t know. I don’t want to do any of that stuff,” she confesses. “I just want to be done.”

  I lean in and kiss Cora’s cheek.

  “I think most women secretly feel that way, baby,” I say, softly. “People post about the good parts and want you to think that they’re happy all the time. But I think most pregnant women feel the way that you do. At least some of the time.”

  “Yeah?”

  I nod. “Only they’re embarrassed to admit it.”

  “Should I be embarrassed to feel this way?”

  I narrow my eyes. “Of course not. You can’t apologize for the way you feel about your pregnancy. You’re the one going through it.”

  “True.”

  “And it’s totally natural to want something painful and uncomfortable to be over,” I assure her. “You’re not a monster, Cora. You’re doing beautifully.”

  She sighs. “I needed to hear that. Thank you.”

  We’ve driven about three hours north of Los Angeles to a small town on a lake for Shawn and Aya’s wedding. Well, what they’re calling their ‘real’ wedding. They were married in a church about a week ago that was all kinds of stuffy and formal.

  This is definitely more reflective of their personalities.

  I just wish Cora could enjoy herself.

  Today, she’d helped her best friend choose a dress and get married. She’d held my hand through the ceremony and as we all ate dinner. Now, as we sit on the patio, amongst our friends, watching the fire die down, I know she’s itching to get out of here.

  Fine by me.

  Shawn and Aya are completely preoccupied with each other and the other four are deep in conversation, so I don’t think anyone will care too much if we slip on out.

  We say our goodbyes to the newlyweds, and I help Cora back to our room.

  “Feeling okay?” I ask her, opening the door and ushering her inside.

  She nods.

  “Tired?”

  “No,” she answers. “I mean, physically yes. But I’m not sleepy.”

  “Want to watch a movie or something?”

  “That sounds nice. I think I’m going to take a bath first,” she says. “I’m so sweaty all the time. Is that normal? I don’t remember anything about excessive sweating, but… ugh.”

  She starts to unzip her dress, but needs another hand, so I step in and do it for her.

  “Thank you,” she says, heading into the bathroom.

  She walks into the bathroom, closes the door and locks it. Cora never used to lock the door when she showered. And now it’s commonplace.

  I know she’s only on the other side of the door, but somehow, she’s a million miles away.

  Twelve

  Cora

  My bath helps. I feel a little less achy and terrible after soaking in the hot water. I dry off and put on flannel pajama pants and a big tee shirt. They’re Ian’s. But since my clothes don’t fit anymore, I’ve commandeered them. He doesn’t seem to mind.

  I towel dry my hair and look in the mirror. I look… rough. For the past few months, I haven’t cared about haircuts, worried about makeup, or taken care of my skin. I mean, I put on makeup and a nice dress today, but this was a special occasion.

  I sigh out hard. Usually, I like to look put-together. I like the way my body looks in my clothes. I like putting on a little makeup and walking around my neighborhood feeling confident.

  But now I just feel… sloppy.

  And I look like I’ve given up.

  The tears come quickly. They always do. Ugh. Everything makes me cry these days. Literally everything. Commercials for pet food, even. I don’t even want to admit how many tissues I went through today watching my best friend get married.

  But I wipe them away before I go back out there. I don’t want to unload all this on Ian. He’s been amazing this entire time, always there with a neck rub or whatever weird food I’m craving, or to tell me that I look beautiful when I really look a mess.

  Or to tell me that I’m not selfish for feeling the way that I do even though I know I am.

  I put my hands on my bump. By Alicia is growing a little more every day, and I try to picture what my life will look like once she’s here. I imagine feeding her and changing her. And rocking her to sleep in the rocking chair Ian got for her bedroom.

  I even imagine Ian and me taking her to the park. Maybe he’ll play with her in the sand or teach her to hang from the monkey bars and push her on the swings. The thought of Ian being so sweet and fatherly to our little girl turns me on in a weird way.

  But, as I look at my swollen belly, my double chin, and the patches of acne that the hormones have caused, I’m disgusted with myself. I don’t find myself sexy at all. I have no idea how Ian possibly can.

  Which hurts me because Ian, believe it or not, has gotten even hotter since he found out that he was going to be a dad. To me, anyway. Maybe that’s just biology and all, but ever since I told him I was pregnant, he’s been extra attentive and protective, and I want him ten times more than I usually do.

  Of course, I’m feeling too unsexy and self-conscious to act on it.

  I open the bathroom door and pad out into the bedroom. Ian’s kind of sprawled on the bed. Shirtless, of course, wearing only a pair of loose, black track pants. His muscled torso and all of his tattoos are on full display.

  So, basically, he looks gorgeous and I look… pregnant.

  “Are you okay, Cora?” he asks.

  I nod, forcing a little smile.

  “No, you’re not. What can I do to help you?”

  Ian gets up and helps me over to the bed. He coaxes me to lie down and rest my head on his shoulder.

  “I just don’t feel like myself anymore,” I tell him. “I’m not comfortable in this body. I don’t like the way I feel. And I’m worried about everything that’s going to change after Alicia’s here.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like my job.” I confess.

  I’ve thought about what it will mean to go back to acting and auditioning after having a baby. My agent and several producers seem to think that my body will just snap back after giving birth. Like magic. I’m already scheduled to audition for a supporting role in a big-budget action movie, but God knows if I’ll be able to keep up with the physical demands of the part.

  “Please don’t take this the wrong way, Cora,” Ian starts, “but would it be the worst thing in the world if you didn’t go back to work right away?”

  My eyebrows hit the ceiling. I can’t believe I’m hearing this from Ian.

  “Are you kidding me?” I sputter. “Are you seriously asking me to give up my career and stay home while you…”

  “I’m not saying that at all.”

  “Because I worked too fucking hard to get to this point, Ian,” I state, firmly. “And we’ve talked about this before. I don’t want to be a stay-at-home parent. Not for longer than I have to be, anyway.”

  To be totally clear, I’m not knocking the stay-at-home parents. My mother stayed home with me a
nd didn’t return to work until I was old enough to go to school. But I know that that’s not the life for me.

  “I just want to feel like myself again,” I tell him.

  Ian holds me closer.

  “I know, baby,” he whispers. “I was just saying that you don’t have to jump in and be a superhero right out of the gate. Give yourself time to adjust and heal.”

  I nod.

  “And you’re not going to have to do it alone. The band isn’t touring for the next year. I’ll be around all the time.”

  I know. The band agreed to postpone their first international tour for a year. It wasn’t an easy decision to make, but he refused to leave me alone with a newborn.

  Which is good. It makes me sick to think about Ian up on stage with the band and the crowd throwing themselves at him while I’m at home, up to my elbows in dirty diapers. Probably still bloated and greasy and insecure.

  “Seriously,” he says with a little smile. “I’ll be around so much you’ll be sick of me.”

  I roll my eyes.

  Ian leans down to kiss me, his fingers tangled in my damp hair and his stubble scraping at my chin.

  I still lose track of time when Ian kisses me. It’s still as deep and passionate and thrilling as it was the first time.

  I blush a little, remembering the first time Ian kissed me. We had a lot of firsts that night.

  Ian deepens the kiss and I part my lips for his tongue. He rolls over so that we’re on our sides, facing each other and I’m pressed up tightly against his body.

  He’s hard for me.

  Seriously, he’s hard for me.

  Ian pulls back.

  “What’s the matter?” he asks, gently.

  “Ian, how can you still want me when I look like… this?”

  He puts a hand on my belly. “Like what?”

  I sigh. “I guess it’s nice of you not to make me say it.”

  “You mean ‘pregnant’?”

  “Yeah.”

  Ian slides off of me so that he’s kneeling and kind of straddling my shins. He smooths my huge tee shirt up, exposing my belly, and places a kiss on my navel.

  “You have no idea how sexy you are to me right now,” he whispers.

  I don’t believe him. But I don’t want to sound like I’m fishing for compliments either. So I murmur some assent.

  Ian keeps his mouth on me, moving further and further down my body. A chill runs through me.

  But not in a good way.

  Like a get off me way.

  Which is something I’ve never felt towards my husband. Ever.

  “What’s wrong?” Ian asks. “You tensed up.”

  I ease him off as best I can.

  “I can’t, Ian. Just… I can’t. Not now.”

  “Okay.” He backs off. Of course he does. “No problem.”

  He doesn’t sound insulted or disappointed, but he does sound concerned. He lies down next to me, and I snuggle into his shoulder. He presses his lips to the top of my head, letting me know we’ll be okay.

  And we will. Eventually.

  But I can’t help but wonder how long that’ll take.

  Thirteen

  Ian

  For the next few days, all Cora seems to want to do is be alone. She’s been out once with Aya to get her nails done, but other than that, she’s barely left the house. I’ve tried to talk to her. To get her to watch movies with me. To just hold her.

  But, something’s off.

  Sure, she puts on a smile and tells me that she’s okay. But I know she’s saving face.

  Pretty soon, the fake-niceties and the distance drive me insane. I have to say something.

  Cora’s on the sofa reading. She looks up when she sees me walk into the living room and smiles sweetly but goes back to her book without saying anything.

  I gently take it from her and set it on the coffee table.

  “Cora, we need to talk,” I tell her.

  “Why?”

  “I can’t do this anymore. The distance. The silence. The faking nice to each other. It’s driving me crazy. We haven’t talked about anything real since Shawn and Aya’s wedding, and I feel like we’re drifting apart.”

  She looks at me strangely.

  “Which is pretty scary since, you know, we’re having a baby together,” I stupidly remind her.

  Cora looks frustrated.

  “Ian, I don’t know how many more times you need to hear that I feel enormous and ugly and sweaty and… not like myself,” she says. She’s raising her voice, which she nearly never does.

  “You’re beautiful…”

  “Don’t do that,” she continues. “You want to talk about something real? Fine. Let’s get real.”

  I swallow hard. I feel like I may have just gone down a road I don’t know how to navigate.

  “I hate that me getting pregnant held up the Say Yes international tour. I feel guilty about that every day. How’s that for real?” she asks.

  “That was a unanimous decision,” I assure her. “The band voted…”

  “You know it wasn’t a unanimous decision.”

  “Dylan came around eventually.”

  She doesn’t look appeased.

  “How about the fact that I turned down a role I really wanted because we’d be shooting during my last trimester,” she says. “And I’ve been really bitter about it since they’re filming right now, without me.”

  I knew about that part. It was for an action movie and the part would have been cool.

  “There will be other movies,” I tell her.

  “Not the point,” she says. “I just wonder if maybe, just… maybe… I resent this baby. Just a little bit.”

  At that final admission, Cora starts crying. I sit down next to her and take her hand. I know she feels like a horrible person right now. And she doesn’t deserve to feel that way.

  “I’m going to confess something to you,” I tell her. “And I promise I’ll never mention this ever, ever again.”

  She nods. Go ahead.

  “Putting off the world tour wasn’t the easy decision I made it out to be,” I tell her.

  “Really?”

  “No. I mean, when you told me you were pregnant, I was so happy. But I was scared about what that meant for the band. I was worried they’d let me go and find a new drummer. Or that I’d have to figure out how to be halfway around the world and yet, somehow here with you.”

  Cora wipes her eyes.

  “I didn’t think the guys would be so cool about postponing, and I thought I’d lose my career. I thought for a second that I’d resent this baby too.” I sigh. “God, I feel horrible having just said that.”

  “I know,” she confirms. “I feel like such a garbage human.”

  I take her hand.

  “How did you get past that?” she asks.

  “Honestly? I think about my mom,” I tell her.

  “Your mom?”

  “Yeah. I mean, she got pregnant by a guy who…”

  I sigh. It’s been decades but talking about my dad is still not easy.

  “By a guy who was terrible for her. Who she loved, but who didn’t love her back,” I continue. “Getting pregnant with me and then, later, with Nikki, was probably the worst possible scenario. But, as long as she lived, my mom always told us that Nikki and I were the best things that ever happened to her. And I think that she truly believed that.”

  Cora’s eyes are wet with tears.

  “I believe this baby is going to be the best thing that ever happened to us, too,” I tell her.

  Cora sniffles. “I’ve never told anyone this before,” she starts, “but my mom didn’t want children. She didn’t want to be a stay-at-home mother. But my father was super traditional.”

  “I had no idea.”

  “Yeah. They broke up when I was young and then he disappeared completely when I was a teenager.”

  I nod. I never knew this about her mom.

  “I think she blamed me for holding her back in life,”
she continues. “I think she still wonders what she could have been had she not had me.”

  “Cora. We are not our parents.”

  “I know, but…”

  “I’m not going anywhere,” I tell her.

  My voice is firm. I’ve never been more certain about anything. I will be there for Cora and our daughter.

  “And secondly, you’re an adult now. Your mother has the option to pursue a different career path or go back to school or travel the world… anything she wants. But she isn’t. And that has nothing to do with you.”

  Cora nods, hesitantly.

  “I promise that you and I will have an amazing life together with Alicia. I promise that she will enrich it, not take away from it.” I take Cora’s hand and kiss her knuckles. “And, like I promised at our wedding, I will do anything to make you happy.”

  That finally gets a little smile out of her.

  I clear my throat, ready to go on with the rest of an impromptu speech. “I promise to…”

  Cora groans.

  “Okay, I know it was getting cheesy, but…”

  She groans again and clenches my hand, squeezing so hard I think she might break it.

  “I think that’s a contraction,” she says.

  “Oh, God,” I reply, loud and frantic. “We need to go to the… um…”

  Of course we’ve got a plan and of course we know what to do. But right now, my mind is racing, and I remember absolutely none of it.

  “Hospital,” she says. “The world you’re looking for is hospital.”

  Right.

  And despite my bumbling and panicking, I manage to find Cora’s bag, help her into the car, and get to the hospital without killing anyone.

  Fourteen

  Cora

  There are so many things that they don’t tell you about giving birth. Or, okay… they tell you, but you still aren’t prepared for it until it happens to you.

  It’s long. And hard. And painful. You’ll scream and cry and curse and want to tear your partner limb from limb.

  Then, suddenly, there’s this helpless little creature in your arms. And it’s yours to raise and teach and somehow mold into a good, helpful person.