The next days were a struggle at best. Confined to my bed, I already felt somewhat trapped, not to mention exhausted and upset. My hormones continued to rage from one extreme to another and Lindsey was yet to hear me out. I'd tried to explain how I felt several times, but I was always cut off in some form or another. Thankfully there had been a buffer up until now, but this morning my mother left to return to Arizona and Karen was in New York for meetings all week. It was just Lindsey and I- and although I knew there would be tension at first, we would work through our issues.
He had played nice the last few days, I'll say that, but I could feel that our dynamic had changed. For the first time in our history he was completely shutting me out. I'd always been able to reach him and never before had I doubted his love for me. It had always been so real, so honest. Now, however, I wondered if I had truly broken him beyond repair. I lay in bed, wide away, as he sleeps next to me. I could reach out and touch him but right now he seems a million miles away, breathing heavily as though he is sleeping soundly like he doesn't have a care in the world. And though the thought crosses my mind that he actually doesn't have a care in the world, that he has completely shut out and is completely indifferent, I think I know better than to believe that. His back is to me, his arms crossed somewhat defensively across his chest even as he sleeps, a spare pillow thrown between us. And though I love this man with all of my soul, all of my being, at this point we might as well be two brothers sharing a hotel bed, just hoping to make it through the night with some decent sleep and no acknowledgement of the other's presence.
I replay the evenings conversations in my mind, though they were few and far between. He said very little, while I reeled to fix what I had previously shattered. My always outspoken love was now the shell of who he usually was to me, simply going through the motions and fulfilling what he perceived to be his duties towards me in my current state. The more I thought about our interactions that day, the more upset I became. I was half tempted to wake him up and have it out with him, hoping for some sort of resolution in at least one form or another. I had read at some point that the opposite of love isn't hate, its indifference, and I now fully comprehended that statement. Even when he and I were at our worst, screaming and yelling, fighting and crying, there was always a deep passion that drove our actions. But today, it was as though he couldn't have cared less one way or the other, and that stung worse than any insult he'd ever hurled at me.
HIs breathing changed rhythms and I knew that he may have been partially awake, so I took a shot, and whispered softly that I love him dearly. Though it did not elicit a response, I hoped that he subconsciously heard me because right now that's all I had.
Unable to sleep due to the apparent acrobatics performance going on inside of my belly, I ran myself a bath and slipped in to some warm water and lavender oil, hoping it would bring heavy eyelids. I hummed softly to the boys, relaxing in the dark room, lit only by candles. I'm not sure how long I'd been out of bed when Lindsey knocked slightly on the door, checking to make sure I was okay and didn't need any help getting back to bed. He was certainly being the dutiful father, and I appreciated it deeply given the way I had treated him recently.
The weeks passed fairly quickly after that, and the tension dissipated somewhat. My doctors appointments were becoming increasingly frequent and my discomfort becoming the normal. I was completely out of things to do and wanted nothing more than to get up and scrub my house from top to bottom, wash all of the baby clothes and grocery shop. I sent Karen on a mission to do most of my 'nesting' phase and Lindsey dutifully assisted with the laundry, bringing me some tiny clothing to fold after it was dry.
"The boys should have Italian names," Lindsey told me one afternoon, completely out of the blue.
I must admit I was a little taken aback, unsure of his sudden change in demeanor regarding my desire to raise our family in our current location, I couldn't help but to ask what had prompted his change. He wanted them to fit in, he told me, and he knew that they would likely spend most of their time here, with me. My mind reeled a bit, wondering what he meant by that.
"With us, you mean," I questioned. "We will spend most of our time here."
He shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know, Stevie, I guess we will see what you want to do," he told me passive aggressively. "I'm always going to be here for them though, and for you as much as you'd like, I just know that the back and forth between the two of us on the opposite sides of the world won't be feasible while they're small, so they'll be here primarily."
"And what will you and I be?" I asked, eyes wide.
He shrugged his shoulders. "What we've always been, I suppose, whatever that is."
My head was spinning a little bit. Why was he talking about this like it was some sort of custody arrangement? I really thought I had conveyed my feelings towards our relationship in the past few days, attempting to help him understand my concerns and why I wanted to continue to work on 'us' but in hindsight, I hadn't gotten much in with him lately as he avoided the conversation at any chance.
Was I being dumped? I had just worked up the courage to ask what he meant by his las statement when I felt a warm swish as I knew exactly what had happened.
"Linds," I said, hesitance in my voice. He casually glanced over at me, not saying a word, "Lindsey, my water just broke."
