But understanding doesn’t make it easier to bear.
The hours crawl by.
I try to read, but the words blur together.
I attempt to watch television, but nothing holds my interest.
I even consider calling Mikhail, but I know he’s in meetings and I don’t want to be the needy wife who can’t handle a few hours alone.
Except I’m not handling it well at all.
By the time the sun starts to set, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink, I’ve worked myself into a state of restless frustration.
I pace the bedroom, ignoring the doctor’s orders about bed rest, my mind churning with thoughts I can’t quite organize.
This isn’t living.
This is existing in a beautiful cage, waiting for something terrible to happen or for the baby to arrive, whichever comes first.
And Mikhail, in his desperate attempt to keep me safe, has forgotten that I need more than just physical protection.
I need connection.
I need intimacy.
I need him.
The realization hits me with sudden clarity.
We’ve been so focused on the pregnancy, on the threats, on the logistics of security and safety, that we’ve lost sight of each other.
When was the last time we made love?
Really made love, not just the careful, gentle encounters we’ve had since the complications started?
When was the last time he looked at me with desire instead of worry?
I move to the full-length mirror and study my reflection.
The pregnancy has changed my body in subtle ways.
My breasts are fuller, my hips slightly wider.
The small bump of my belly is visible beneath the loose dress I’m wearing. I don’t look fragile.
I look like a woman carrying life, strong and capable.
But Mikhail doesn’t see that anymore.
He sees someone who needs to be protected, wrapped in cotton wool and kept away from anything that might cause stress.
Well, I’m done being treated like an invalid.
An idea begins to form in my mind, dangerous and thrilling in equal measure.
If Mikhail won’t see me as a woman anymore, I’ll have to remind him.
I’ll have to break through his walls of overprotection and reach the man I fell in love with, the one who looked at me with hunger and possession and raw need.
