Riley Adams always pictured herself being married to the man of her dreams before having kids. She wanted to have a stable job and have enough money saved up before having a family.
She never planned on getting pregnant by her best friend after one...
As we reached December, counting down the days until my due date was inevitable. Ross had even circled the date on the calendar, finishing it off with a little drawing of a monkey. You could see the excitement on his face the closer we got from a mile away, his eyes practically lighting up like a Christmas tree. I had never seen him look so happy, and that just warmed my heart.
My maternity leave had begun shortly after experiencing Braxton Hicks contractions, my body's way of telling me to take it easy. Ross couldn't resist in giving me his I told you so look, a smug smirk planted on his face that I just wanted to smack off. He had practically forced me to sit on the couch and elevate my feet, firing off question after question. Was I okay? Did I need anything?
I'd be lying if I said I wasn't enjoying the attention.
My bedroom was officially converted into a nursery, the crib up against the wall beside my bed. I would be able to climb out of bed and just walk those few inches whenever the baby needed to be changed or fed, or just wanted attention. I had no doubt in my mind that my little man would be in my arms as much as possible.
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We had yet to choose a name, unable to decide on the perfect one. Hours had been spent trying to find the right one, and we had come up empty. It wasn't like we could just change the name if we didn't like it, so we needed to find the absolute perfect one.
And it was fucking hard.
Ross had assured me countless times that we would find the perfect name for our son. He wasn't worried at all, but he wasn't the hormonal one. He wasn't the one who was about to pop, the one who couldn't sleep well anymore because her stomach was so huge it was uncomfortable. So not only was I hormonal, but I was exhausted.
I was pretty much couch bound, unable to walk around for more than a few minutes without my feet and back aching. A nice warm bath usually helped, but getting out of the tub? Difficult as all hell.
"I could help you," Ross had said, his cheeks flushing a light shade of pink. "You know, out of the t-tub."
I felt the heat rush to my cheeks immediately.
Ross was still working, not wanting to start his own leave until I went into labor. Unlike me who would be home for six weeks, he would be going back to work after one. He was not happy about that all. I found it adorable when he pouted childishly and crossed his arms over his chest, flopping down on the couch like a fish.
"Can I ask you something?" Ross asked, as we were relaxing on the couch, watching a random show on tv. Well, he was relaxing. I was trying to find a comfortable position, which proved futile. I nodded, coaxing him to go on. "I know we haven't really talked about it, but I was just wondering if you were okay with me being in the delivery room."
To say I was surprised would be an understatement. We had never discussed if he would be with me in the delivery room, but I had just assumed he would be. I didn't want him missing out on the birth of his son.
