Oh so happy.
Jacob pretty much knew anyway. If there's one dead giveaway it's that I throw up a lot. Not just in the mornings, it's pretty much an all-day continuous event. Hence the fight beginning early to not wind up dehydrated and in the hospital. I can't afford to spare much of the 98 pounds that remain. Being pregnant is one of those struggles for me that winds up being a minute-by-minute battle and this cold on top of everything has left me completely drained.
I sat down at the table, got the kids arranged and when everyone was finally happy and settled and the server had taken our orders, our eyes met over the middle of the table (this was in between hovering over Henry to keep his perpetually running nose in check. I know, how romantic.)
So, Jacob, we need to talk about some things.
Like?
Like which room you'd like to turn into the nursery, for starters.
(This was the part where he almost dropped his water glass.)
Did you test?
I sure did.
The smile spread across his face in slow motion, it was the most amazing thing for me to watch. It started with the corners of his mouth turning up and widening and infecting his dimples, which deepened, creasing his cheeks into lines. Then it moved vertically, lighting up his eyes before they glassed over so thickly I thought he was going to lose it. Which he pretty much did. He jumped out of his chair and came around to my side of the table, putting his arms around me and kissing my cheeks, my hair, my lips. This was when he saw the hearing aid in my ear and that stopped him short.
What? When did you? Oh my god. I can't take all this in at once. It's too much. My God. Thank you God.
He's crouched beside my chair right in my face. I put my hands on his face and told him to sit down and we'll talk without the familiar echo of repeating every second phrase thanks to the surrounding din of clinking silverware and low conversation.
He stood up and apologized to our nearest audience, the next table who had stopped eating and were watching us have this crazy exchange.
We're having a baby! And....she can hear me!
They murmured their slightly confused congratulations, oblivious to the emotion in his voice, which I heard for the first time in public in a way that knocked me on my ass, because it was so prevalent I will never forget it.
Dinner was sort of a blur, after that. Besides, I didn't really feel well enough to enjoy it.
He sang in the truck, the whole way home. Softly, and I heard him, lyrics I didn't know, but I recognized Slow Dancing in a Burning Room, because we've danced to it a lot recently:
I was the one you always dreamed of
You were the one I tried to draw
How dare you say it's nothing to me
Baby, you're the only light I ever saw
After the kids were snugly tucked in for the night, we retired to the den to talk and cuddle and he held me so sweetly and he whispered things, talking about how happy he was, and how thankful he was for me, for everything we have. It would have been the most romantic way to end the day. Except for one thing.
The very decidedly unromantic vomiting, which punctuates every part of the day now. Something that's become pretty much part of my routine again. I really hate that part.
He doesn't seem to mind at all.
