“Tasha, there is clearly something not right, so tell me what it is. You’re scaring me.”
Dipping her fingers into the back pocket of her jeans, Tasha retrieved the cause of her distress and held it out to show her husband whose expression was one of confusion now. Lying in the palm of her right hand was a lightly squashed and compressed plastic tube of some four centimetres.
“What's that?” Jim was still confused.
“That,” began Tasha taking a deep breath, “is my contraceptive implant.”
“Why is it in your hand and not implanted in your arm?” Jim was struggling to understand what was unfolding.
“It appears that it's broken, ineffective,” faltered Tasha as she battled the emotions and tears she was struggling to control. “It was implanted deeply, too deeply. Possibly during my crash it got moved, damaged and was moved. Mitch isn't entirely sure how or what happened, but it's fucked!” She sounded angry rather than upset as she slammed the plastic down and then held her severely bruised arm out to show just how deeply it had been implanted.
“Ouch, that looks sore.” Jim grimaced and reached across to gently kiss her bruised flesh before thinking through fully the implications of what Tasha was saying, almost scared to allow his mind to process all the possibilities. “You're okay though? Have you had another one put in, chosen something else or are we going to discuss that?”
Tasha shook her head. Her brain refused to order or utter words but allowed tears to fall. When she saw Jim's confused face she realised she had to tell him about her day, all of it.
“Nothing to discuss. Not right away. Good news is, I do not have cystitis or a urinary tract infection. In fact, I am in tip top condition,” she revealed with a wry smile and tears on her face.
“Baby, you’ve got me real scared now, not to mention damn well confused. Just tell me what the hell happened with Mitch.”
“I'm pregnant.” Once the words were out, said aloud, unable to be ignored or taken back she allowed her tears to flow freely and for her sobs to join them.
Jim stared across at her looking a little shell shocked then smiled a half-smile at her.
“Oh baby,” he soothed as he pulled her into his embrace where he held her, rocked her and when the tears had subsided sat her down on the sofa where he joined her. “How are you feeling now?” He gently kissed her forehead.
“Shit. Really, really shit.” She sounded melodramatic to her own ears, but continued, “I’m so scared, Jim. I can't be pregnant, I just can't, and I don't want to do this. I can't do this.” She held her head in her hands. “It might be wrong I suppose. Maybe we should get a second opinion.”
“Tasha, you're pregnant and you can't wish this away, honey,” he told her seriously. “No number of opinions will make you less pregnant.”
“But we hadn't planned on having a baby yet, maybe never. I can't do this, James. I'm not ready.”
“I think you will find that decision has been taken out of our hands.”
“It doesn't have to be out of our hands, does it?” Tasha knew that it was, even before she looked at Jim's face and saw his horrified expression at her suggestion.
Thinking about Mickie's revelations about Jim's second wife having had an abortion behind his back she felt doubly guilty and began to cry again. “Sorry,” she said sincerely. “I just need to get my head around this. It's a shock. A huge fucking shock. I was just thinking aloud and there are other options, generally. I just don't know if I can do this. You're pleased, aren't you?” she knew she was beginning to ramble as she scrutinised her husband's face.
“I could lie, but I won’t. Yes, I’m pleased, thrilled, but I'm trying to contain it as you’re struggling with it, but the idea of you carrying my baby makes me very, very happy.”
“I'm going to lie down.” Tasha got to her feet with a desperate need to put some distance between her and her husband while they were in such different places.
“I'll sort dinner in a while,” he told her, but stopped short of declarations of love or offers to join her as he figured she needed some space and so did he because his heart was fit to burst with pride, love and excitement.
Once upstairs and after yet another trip to the bathroom, Tasha looked at her naked body in the mirror and tried to find some signs of pregnancy, but found very few, if any. Her breasts looked heavier, slightly, and her nipples were darker than she'd remembered but beyond that she looked exactly the same as she had when she'd gotten married, although by Mitch's estimation she was already pregnant when they'd married, just. Thank fuck Mickie hadn't realised that. She allowed her mind to briefly visit possible outcomes of that night in Philip's kitchen if her pregnancy had been known; having already done away with one of Jim's babies, Tasha was sure another one would have been easy, Mickie had told her as much. A cold shiver ran over her body as she realised that neither of them would have been allowed to leave alive, her nor Mickie. None of them; her, Mickie or Baby Maybury. Throwing a loose fitting t-shirt on, Tasha wondered how the hell this was going to be resolved, so crawled into bed and decided to forget about it, to sleep and dream about anything other than cherubic looking babies with gummy smiles and chunky thighs which was how she imagined her own child of the future.
****
It was dark when Tasha stirred and realised it was two in the morning, meaning she had missed dinner and slept through from early evening. Rolling onto her side, Tasha shuffled back until her back was nestled against Jim's front. His breathing and light snoring made her smile and relax again so sleep could wash over her once more, although when she thought of Jim's pleasure at her pregnancy she found her anxiety levels rising. The feel of his arm looping over her exposed middle made her momentarily soften again until his hand settled on her belly where he gently cupped her lovingly and protectively stroked her. He was already in that place, the one for expectant parents who smiled constantly andcouldn't waitfor theirprecious bundlesto arrive healthy, with ten little fingers and ten little toes. God, she felt sick and was unsure whether it was pregnancy related due to hormones or pregnancy related because she was actually pregnant.
Trying to shift her position was impossible. Every time Tasha moved away, or tried to, Jim pulled her back and held her tighter. She was unsure whether he was awake or asleep and didn’t want to wake him if he was still sleeping and risk the prospect of a discussion. After the sixth or seventh attempt to move failed, Tasha resigned herself to lying still despite her desire to get up, to grab a cup of tea, maybe even a slice of cake or chocolate, but her husband seemed determined to keep her exactly where she was, lying in bed next to him.
It was six o'clock before she was freed from Jim’s embrace and her head was virtually lodged in the toilet with near certainty that the vomiting she was experiencing was the start of morning sickness. Jim tried to support and comfort her, but was obviously wary of her reaction to him, after all, he had admitted his pleasure at the situation while she was still talking about options. Options she didn't have as far as Jim was concerned, but he wasn't going to push that discussion yet. Hopefully, Tasha would reach that conclusion herself.
“Is the offer of breakfast going to trigger more vomiting?” asked Jim as a freshly showered Tasha sat on the edge of the bed wearing yoga pants and a t-shirt.
“Depends on whether you'll accept that I can't eat it.” Even the idea of food made her feel ill.
“I'll get you some crackers and tea, or water.” He smiled at her, with kindness and sympathy before leaning down to gently kiss her lips. “I love you, baby, and this will be okay.”
