“That’s got to mean something, right?”
“If that means that I want pickles and ice cream at four a.m., I need for you to rush to the store and buy it. I need for you to go to my appointments, and watch this baby grow. What I don’t need is for you to micromanage my life. I might crave greasy, slimy pizza, and you just have to keep your mouth shut and let me eat it.” He grimaces at my food comments, but I watch his face as he processes what I’m saying.
Continuing, I take his hands into mine and run my thumb over his wedding ring. My voice is stronger, and more confident now. “I’m scared to death. My body is no longer mine. It’s been hijacked by Mother Nature. I’m growing another organ, for God’s sake. Mother Nature has now decided that this little tiny bean growing inside of me is more important than me.
“I need your support. I need for you to listen to my fears, and not freak out and try to fix them. I need you to hold me when I can’t sleep. I’ll need you to rub my swollen feet and shave my legs when my stomach will be too big for me to reach around it. I need your love. I don’t need your obsessive, controlling worrying. Got it?”
The internal war in Colin’s head is fascinating to observe. I watch fear at what I’m saying grey his face. I see wonderment at what my body can do fill his eyes. I see the idea of having to shave my legs and rub my feet dance on his beautiful lips. Finally he confirms, “I can do that.” Then, without missing a beat, “So when can we tell everybody?”
“We have another appointment in four weeks. As long as everything is still on track, we can share our news with our family and friends.”
He face lights up like Christmas morning. “Can we tell them the same way that you told me? Can I show them my shoes compared to the baby’s?”
How could I tell him no when he’s this cute? “Of course we can.”
Colin gently pushes me back on the beige flooring, making quick work of removing my pants, and leans down to rest his head just above my pubic bone. I don’t have the heart to tell him that my uterus is not that high up yet. “Hi bean,” he says. “This is your daddy’s voice. Get used to hearing it, because I’m you and your mommy’s biggest fan. You be nice to her and quit making her feel bad. ‘Kay?”
I laugh at his silliness, and run my fingers through his wavy locks. He lifts his head and stares down at my panties as if he’s found a buried treasure. They’re removed, and tossed haphazardly over his left shoulder with the shirt he never put on. Before I can moan “Oh God,” Colin’s buried in the apex of my thighs.
Apparently, I can cross Being afraid to make love to me off of my worry list.
This feels so right. Perfect. Not just the wonderful attention that he’s paying to my body, but the whole energy surrounding us. He’s happy, which makes me fret less. He still finds my body appetizing. God, my thoughts, are interrupted when he slips one, two, hell, a whole hand’s worth of fingers inside me, finding that perfect place that makes me moan his name while he continues to suck and nip at me.
“Colin, that feels so good,” I encourage him begging for more. More of what? I’m not sure, but I’m not ready to find my release.
He reaches up with his free hand and gives my nipple a hard pinch. As if I’m Popeye and have just been handed a can of spinach, I become sex crazed and desperate for him. His tongue feels delicious against my clit and his fingers are magic, but I need rough. I need to feel him inside of me. I want him buried balls deep, and pounding my special place over and over again. I feel like it’s been days since we’ve made love instead of less than twenty-four hours. Even though what he is doing to my body feels great, it’s not the assurance hard lovemaking brings me. Instead of running my fingers through his hair, I’m grabbing it, and begging him for more.
“Please Colin,” I all but sob, “fuck