I was so done waiting.
My back ached constantly. My feet were swollen beyond recognition. I couldn't sleep more than two hours at a stretch because Lucia's favorite activity was using my bladder as a trampoline.
I was ready to not be pregnant anymore.
"How are you feeling?" Cesare asked, finding me on the couch where I'd been camped for the past hour, unable to get comfortable.
"Like I'm carrying a bowling ball that kicks."
"That bad?"
"Worse. I can't see my feet. I can't tie my shoes. I waddle everywhere. And I'm pretty sure Lucia is planning to stay in there forever just to spite me."
He sat beside me, pulled my swollen feet into his lap, started massaging gently. "She'll come when she's ready."
"What if she's never ready? What if I'm pregnant forever?"
"You won't be pregnant forever."
"You don't know that."
Despite my misery, he smiled. "I love you. Even when you're irrational from pregnancy."
"I'm not irrational. I'm realistic. This baby is never coming out."
He leaned forward, pressed a kiss to my enormous belly. "Lucia. Your mama is very uncomfortable. Whenever you're ready to make your appearance, we're ready to meet you."
As if in response, a strong kick hit exactly where his lips had been.
"See? She's comfortable in there. She's never leaving."
"She will. Any day now."
I wanted to believe him. But thirty-seven weeks felt like an eternity, and the thought of waiting days or weeks more was unbearable.
That evening, after a dinner I could barely eat (no room with Lucia taking up all the space), Cesare and I settled in bed early. Both exhausted. Both waiting.
He wrapped around me carefully, one hand on my belly. "Try to sleep."
"I can't get comfortable."
"I know."
We lay in the darkness, his warmth against my back, Lucia shifting and kicking between us.
"I'm scared," I admitted. "About labor. About everything."
"Me too."
"What if something goes wrong?"
"Nothing will go wrong. You're healthy. Lucia's healthy. Dr. Lin says everything's perfect."
"But what if—"
He kissed my shoulder. "We'll handle it. Whatever happens, we'll handle it together."
I laced my fingers through his where they rested on my belly. "Promise?"
