Mare Moody - [blank]

"You are 8 weeks right?" She asks.

"Yeah, almost I think," I say. My stomach has begun to swell and will continue at a rapid rate. I wonder if I will have a basketball belly like all of the thin women who keep their figure but have a huge belly. Or maybe I'll be the kind of pregnant that you can't tell. My stomach will just blend with the rest of my overly swelled body. I hope it is the first.

"I'm not sure," She says, "Maybe."

She looks at Margaret. We share a moment. We both understand what it means to be a mother. Although I am not one yet, I am being to fill the impulses grow. I know that all of my reflexes won't fully make themselves known until my child will no longer need them. That is the curse of knowledge. You learn it when you no longer need it. I look at Tabitha. She watches her child in total disbelief. Her baby is growing into a fully grown human before her eyes; before my eyes. I have stayed at her house for over two months now (minus the hiccup at the hospital) and the change is enormous. I wonder if God made it that way so that mothers get scared of time but at the same time, can't wait for it to pass. The eternal chase that you both love and hate.

"Are you going to call Noah?" She asks me. She looks worried. She has been bothering me for the last month to actually contact him. I want to but I can't. I haven't told her about my run in with Kane because if she actually knew the enormity of event, especially the death threat, she would force me to call him. But if I don't see him, he will be ok. I know that I am weighing too much on Kane's words because I know him and he will hurt Noah no matter what. The spiral begins. No. I take a deep breath. In for four, hold for six, out for eight.

"Well, I'm going to go take a nap." I smile at her. This hallway is getting shorter and shorter the more I move through it. I wonder how quickly Tabitha and Mark march through it at this point. I open my door and throw myself on the bed. The cushions catch my momentum and stop me from bouncing off. I look up 128 tiles. As I look up, my face relaxes and the sun from outside burns my eyes, even though the light comes in at an angle. Bits of the sunshine reflect on the white tile. Small circular swirls show on the ceiling like replicated puddles of fire. I look to my night stand. I have a mural of mistakes. The picture of Kane, Tabitha and I is stood up right and right below it lays the carved sandstone fish that Brook gave me.

The door squeaks open and Tabitha peers her head in.

"I don't suggest you nap for very long. The appointment is in only two hours."

I sigh. Maybe it's a good thing the incessant UV rays woke me this morning.

"Alright," I say, exhausted. I stand yet again and look in my wardrobe. I know I want to wear as much of this stupid as possible before I am too big to even squeeze my head passed the neckline. I grab out a long shirt and old jeans. Pair with my Chuck's, and I'll look like a 50s Greaser in no time. This outfit is most comfortable and easiest to slip on. I put on the t-shirt and feel all of the memories sink into my skin. If I press my nose on just the right spots, I may be able to smell my granddad. I wear this whenever I have a hard night. Although the reality of his sweet hand is much darker, I like to pretend that I have had at least one family member who is slightly sane. I sigh, pull on my jeans, tie up my Chuck's and walk out. Tabitha has since turned on the hallway light. Now LED rays pierce my eyes. They are so much harsher than natural light. I never understood why somebody would want them in their house.

I can hear chatter in the great room. I follow the sounds down the stairs. Tabitha plays with an overjoyed Margaret, calling out compliments as the toddler happily gnaws on a big, red ring. I smile at the view. She keeps her child with her at all times yet knows exactly when to not give her too much attention. She looks up at me.

"Are you ready to go?" She asks.

I nod my head. She picks up her child and places her on her hip. We walk out of the door together. Mother by mother.

The inside of the building smells much too metallic for comfort. I shuffle in my seat and look around the waiting room. No matter what, I can't get away from hospitals. I was mentally and physically fucked by two men. The wide array of women is somewhat peculiar. Some have bulging bellies while others have petit bumps such as mine; even a rare one or two show no sign of swelling at all.

"Ana?" If I had a nickel for every time someone said my name as a question, I could pay all of my medical bills without my insurance.

I stand and walk to the nurse. Tabitha follows me with Margaret in her arms. The corridor is painted an ugly yellow and looks too new. This whole building looks like it was made yesterday. The rich smell of construction lingers in the corners. The nurse leads me to a room with a large blue bed that has a white slip of tissue paper over it. I timidly sit on the bed. The walls are covered in little decals of teddy bears with wall trimming to match. The gaunty violet paint is much too violent. |

A huge white machine that slightly resembles a 1990s computer is placed next to the bed. A wide, purple keyboard is attached to the bottom of it. The nurse sits on a stool in front of it and smiles.

"My name is Erica, and I'll be helping you today." She is way too excited about her job. Then again, if I got to see babies every day, I'd love my job too.

I lie down and pull my shirt up. The bump is much larger when I am lying down. She leans over me and holds a clear bottle of blue gel. The container oddly looks like a ketchup dispenser.

"This will be cold," she warns me.

She squeezes the gel onto my lower abdomen and a shiver goes up my spine. I had not realized how sensitive those nerves were until after the shocking gel touched them. She picks up a device that is attached to the ultrasound machine. In one elaborate move, she twists the cord around her wrist and holds the device in her palm. She presses it against my stomach and moves it around for moment. A dark picture appears on the screen. I can't make out anything until she moves it more to the left and a pocket is shown. My uterus sits in the picture, looking swollen as ever. Inside it is a white smudge. A small pebble has made its nest in my body.

"Do you see it?" She says, her smiling growing wider. I sigh out with an enormous amount of relief. My worries about their father wash away. This is my baby. I am going to be a mother. I don't care about anything else. I sound like a broken record to everyone but myself. If I don't convince myself of this, then I know I will fail.

"From measurements, it looks 7 weeks and 6 days gestation," Erica announces

My smile grows even wider.

"You can tell this early?" The excitement rises in my body.

"We can make a prediction," she tells me. "There is a chance it could be wrong, but it's fairly accurate."

I look over at Tabitha whose smile is beginning to match mine.

"Yeah, I want to know."

The doctor moves the device around more until the baby's profile moves.

"They are a real mover," Erica jokes. I laugh with her. I have been set into a weird type of euphoria. Not one that can be produced by pills or caffeine but one that is purely instinctual.

"Here we go," Erica says, moving the device a centimeter.

"It looks like a boy."

A lightness bubbles up from my stomach. It pushes through a laugh but as soon as it is released, the light bubbles continue to grow and multiply. One after the other they burst into the air.. A smile is plastered on my face but that doesn't even begin to explain it. It is relief matched with hope. I am going to have a son. A little boy to call my own. He will be the only man I need in my life. My eyes shut in pleasant approval. The smile on my face settles in, perfect and natural. Relaxation washes over me as I watch my little boy moving around in my womb. He is mine.