Haste [h.s.]

~47~

the moment we've all been waiting for...
pass me tissues, please!!

* 33 weeks preggo *

There were many instances these last couple of months when I could see this day so perfectly. Moments of clarity from my doubtful nights spiraling when my hands would brace each side of my bump and I could picture this day unraveling the way I always dreamed of.

It would've been a sunny day – no, a partially cloudy one, because nothing about this whole journey has been close to perfect, regardless of how good it might've seemed on paper.

My water would've in all likelihood broken while brushing my teeth, sending Harry into a fit of stress to begin with thinking that whatever was wetting his feet as he stood behind me brushing his own teeth had been a result of a broken pipe from under the sink, until it would eventually hit him.

The drive to the hospital would be filled with frantic calls from my end to my doctor while Harry was all nonchalant to my mental crisis, drowning out the engine's revving in the heavy California traffic with some Bowie jams and drawing hearts with his thumb over my skin. A nervous smile would crack his face every once in a while when it would crash over him the realization that we'd become parents sooner than expected.

Harry wouldn't have left my side for even a single second, insisting every nurse they had to double and triple check how many centimeters I was dilated because he was certain there was no reason I should be in such pain regardless if there was a literal human pushing his way out of my body.

He would be standing over the line drawn between being acutely aware of how traumatic the pain was for me, and oblivious to why I had to be dragged through the pits of hell to bring something so beautiful into our lives.

The dream was short lived, as if I'd been woken up abruptly just as the unspoken promise was getting good. Like many times before, life had a fucked up way of mocking my ass in the most unprecedented moments.

There really were so many ideas of how I'd start my labor and delivery story whenever it would come up in some future conversations, some of which I'd enable and pull out every nitty and gritty detail about how life altering it was and how it was the best day of my life, despite how cliché it sounded when thinking out loud.

It'd be a story I'd tell with pictures like any annoying mother would, whether that be retelling everything that was happening behind the camera in the moment, or painting you a vivid image of the whole day with big words you'd probably find in a classy dictionary or the Google search engine.

One of the multiple images — my favorite — was scattered with so many timid hearts swirling the expanse of my bump, those of which I can only credit the other half of my firstborn when he was the one responsible for drawing so many I could still see in my imagination from how much he'd do it in his free time or any chance he got to be in my vicinity.