Authors: Vivienne Harris-Scott
He
didn
’
t
reply, and I went to my bedroom.
At
15 weeks, we were still sleeping in different bedrooms but he would come to
mine to bid me goodnight every single evening, staying a little bit to talk
while I was massaging my belly or he
‘
d massaged my cold feet, then he would
kiss me on the forehead and leave.
At
week 16, when we got the news that the tumor was shrinking, we celebrated. He took
me out for dinner to Astral, one of our favorite restaurants from the time when
he was still courting me on my first trip to Sydney.
When
the next evening he presented me with a signed edition of one of my favorite
French author, a gift he knew I would highly care about, I boldly told him I
thought he wasn
’
t
very subtle about his intentions, but yet very sleek. I asked him if he was
trying to seduce me, and he sheepishly retorted with a hesitant smile,
“
Is it working?
”
I could see the fear and hope in his
eyes, and just burst out laughing. I couldn
’
t help myself. The idea
was ridiculous, wasn
’
t
it?
That
night was the first we realized we were bantering like a normal married couple;
it was the first night I allowed him to touch my upper body. It was a light hug
after dinner, before I was going to settle in for the night. We were right in
front of my bedroom, and as I was thanking him again for the book, he took my
hand. I was apprehensive as to what he was planning to do with it, but he just
kissed my wrist, looking at me intensely, and then he leaned and embraced my
body into his arms. I was frozen, stunned, but I felt no fear of him. He must
have felt it, and he surprised me, when he kissed the crook of my neck and
whispered to my ear,
“
Thank
you. For staying.
”
He then gave me a last look and left me there.
Three
days later, my belly popped overnight. When I woke up the next morning I was in
utter shock, my little bump had gone, replaced by a full fledge round belly.
When I looked at my body in my bathroom mirror, I cried and laughed at the same
time. I fell in love. Holding a side and caressing the center, I spoke to my
baby. The connection I had been so afraid of not feeling was there. Multiplied
by ten or a hundred. I was mystified by the intensity of the feeling.
I
spent that day shopping online for new clothes to accommodate my new body.
Luckily, David Jones delivered the same evening. When Ethan came home that
night, I told him I had a surprise, I couldn
’
t contain my excitement as he was
following me to my bedroom. I asked him to sit on my bed and close his eyes. He
complied.
I
discarded my large black shirt and sweat pants leaving them at my feet, and
only wearing a bra and panties, I told him to look at me.
He
was silent for first few seconds, and then he got up and came to level with me.
He kneeled in front of me, holding my belly on both sides and kissed it. He
looked up at me with tears in his eyes and whispered,
“
I love you
”
. I didn
’
t respond but went on showing him all the
things that had been delivered. I had gone a bit overboard, but he was happy to
see me embracing the changes. I had chosen sexy and comfortable clothing for
daily wear and nightwear. I felt womanly, and I wanted to show it to the world.
Ethan had only commented,
“
Whatever
makes you happy. You
’
ve
never looked so sexy. Pregnancy really suits you,
”
I had blushed. This was the first semi-
sexual comment he had made to me since our baby was conceived, and we both realized
it. He cleared his throat, and told me he would go see Marina to check on
dinner.
When
he left me, I went to my bathroom and looked at myself. I was looking good, my
skin was glowing, and my body was fuller, yet beautiful. I was sexy. I felt
oddly happy. I couldn
’
t
quite believe it, and I realized this was something he had seen before I did. I
thought, maybe I should thank him for all his support in the previous months,
as he was partly responsible for my happiness; the idea didn
’
t sound preposterous.
I
put on a pair of new lounge pants I had bought and a baby doll and went
downstairs to have dinner.
The
affair was relaxed and pleasant as usual, and I found myself looking at my
husband in a new light.
I
knew he had been trying very hard to make right the wrong he did. He was hoping
for redemption through atonement, ever since I had been hospitalised. He had
stood by me, and helped me though this difficult time, without asking anything
in return. I knew I had made it difficult for him when I returned from the
hospital, yet he had remained steady, and accepted it, taking everything in
stride. Looking at him that evening, I realized he was more and more like the
Ethan I had fallen in love with. I was starting to see the best in him again. I
was starting to see, Ethan, my partner, my yin, resurface.
I
was carrying his child. I wondered if there was a chance our marriage could
recapture what we had lost.
Lost
in my thoughts, I hadn
’
t
realized he had been asking me something for the past few minutes, and now he
was standing next to me, looking at me with a worried look. When I asked what
was wrong he replied,
“
I
should ask you this question. You have this intense frown on your face, and
obviously something is bothering you, so what is it?
”
I had swallowed hard. I couldn
’
t tell him, not yet anyway.
I
had gotten up and told him I was getting my tub of ice creams and Tim Tams, and
he should get the book he would read to our baby. When we reconvened in the
lounge five minutes later as I came back from the kitchen with my
favorite
concoction du
soir
in a
huge ceramic bowl, he grinned at me. He was already lying down on his back on
the sectional, and motioned me to come and get comfortable, which I did, held
by his arm, tucked against his chest, my head resting there, eating my ice
cream while he read, his hand resting on my stomach.
It
was one of the best times I loved about my pregnancy, the time he spent reading
to me, to us.
That
evening though, I simply couldn
’
t
concentrate on his reading, so much so, that after ten minutes, I interrupted
him abruptly, and said,
“
E?
Can I ask you something?
”
He took the bowl from my hands leaving it on the sectional table, kissed my
head and replied,
“
Sure.
Ask away
…”
but the words wouldn
’
t
come out. A few minutes passed, he just kept on caressing my belly, waiting. I
finally whispered,
”
Are
you scared?
”
I closed my eyes, waiting for his answer. He didn
’
t hesitate, and said it in a strained low
voice,
“
Yes.
Every day.
”
He took and held my hand
between his own, on my belly, and added,
“
I love you, and I am terrified of losing
you, or the baby.
”
I knew he meant it, and felt my throat start to hurt. I was about to cry. So I
croaked,
”
We
should get to bed, it
’
s
getting late.
”
as I lifted myself from his comfortable chest. He helped me, and as we were
both standing, looking at each other, he said,
“
I
’
m sorry.
”
his eyes were shinning, and I knew it was
the direct effect of unshed tears welling up at the surface. I didn
’
t need to ask what he was sorry for, so I
simply said,
“
I
know.
”
I
gave him a last look and went to my bedroom, but sleep evaded me. I had been
lying in bed for over two hours, I could only think about him, his admission,
and how I felt about it. I no longer hated him, hadn
’
t for months now. This was a fact. Hearing
his apology, and his voiced fears, left me high strung, my emotions were all
over the place. He had told me numerous times he loved me, he had shown me in
the last few months this love he was professing. He had not once tried to
pressure me to change my mind about anything from the minute I had left the
hospital .He had indulged Lily
’
s
protocol when it was criticized by the doctors he knew, and actually embraced
it, just for me. He had made certain every single one of my needs had been met
and then some. He had just been there, rock solid, collected. Yet, not once,
had I thought he had been scared and still was.
I
wondered who was giving him support, emotional or otherwise, but that thought
led me to think of Anna, and a flash of anger coursed through me, I felt my
heart rate beat faster. He never mentioned her name in my presence, but she was
still his chief of staff. I wondered if they were having an affair, and maybe
that
’
s
why he had been so calm throughout all this. I pushed the thought out of my
mind, as it was the first negative one I had in months, and again I tried to
reassure myself that my husband was not cheating on me. He had been too
attentive, spending every spare minute he had with me, he simply did not have
time to have an affair, I rationalized. He loved me, that
’
s all there was to it. He wouldn
’
t dare have an affair while his wife was
battling cancer and pregnant with his child, would he?
The
fact that I did care so much was a complete shock. I could feel my heart
tighten at the thought of the woman touching my husband.
Ethan
was mine. Or, was he?
My
wandering thoughts kept me awake, so after another hour of restlessness, I
finally got up.
I
felt chilly in my short nightgown, and after putting on a warm bamboo robe, I
decided to check if Ethan was still up by any chance.
I
slowly opened the door of our bedroom and it was plunged in complete darkness.
I didn
’
t
say a word as I walked in and shut the door. It was close to 3:00 a.m. and I
assumed E. was asleep as he would get up at 6.00 am as he did every morning.
As
I sat on my side of the king bed and confirmed it was indeed empty, - Ethan
still slept on his side not in the middle of the bed as I had thought -, I
realized it had been over 18 months since I had been in this room, our room. 18
months since I had last shared a bed with my husband. Did I feel scared? No.
Strangely
enough, I felt like I was finally coming home after a long trip away.
Letting
the robe drop on the floor, I slowly lifted the quilt and got under the sheet
trying my best not awaken Ethan. Once covered, I settled my body on my left
side, my back to him, and finally exhaled. The bed felt warm. All thoughts of
Anna were forgotten. I could sleep now.
Morpheus
had been waiting and as I was finally entering his opened arms, I felt Ethan
’
s body press against mine, his hand
enveloping my belly and his sleepy voice murmurs in my ear,
“
I love you.
”