Slow Love 2-It Ain't Over

Opening-It Ain't Over

Chapter 1-It Ain't Over

We are flying back home to Minneapolis the day after receiving the awesome news that our surrogate, Chari, is pregnant with our triplets. Immediately after take-off on the charter jet, I start to feel nauseous. It has been a while since I've had that kind of bug. Bummer, I hate not feeling well in flight at 30,000 feet. 

We move over to the bed after leveling out and I try to get comfortable with him thinking, if this does not pass soon, he ain't gonna see any action tonite. I hope it will melt away with him holding me in his arms. "Baby, you are shivering and don't look good. What's a matter?" 

Ooop! Here it comes, "Sweetie, I feel sick to my stomach. Let go of me so I can get to the bathroom." I barely made it, all that came up was liquid, nasty, icky stomach bile. Blick! I feel momentarily better now that's all out, but I'm hanging out in the bathroom to make sure there isn't a second wave. 

After a while, he taps on the door, "Baby, are you alright? You've been in there for a long time." I try to answer him but nothing comes out of my mouth but squeaks. That stomach acid burned my throat coming up so I flip the door handle to let him in. On my knees in front of the toilet, driving the porcelain bus, I can barely raise my head from the dizziness that followed. He gets down on the floor with me, "Baby, tell me what's wrong. I'm concerned about you." 

I look at him, put a finger up like wait a minute, and I dry heave, nothing but some horrible retching causing my toes to curl. I try to speak but all that comes out in a high pitched peep, "Help me". The growing worried look of concern on his face, I know he feels helpless to help me. I need to lay down and this bathroom is overcrowded, barely big enough for me let alone the two of us. 

I point toward the door and he helps me get out of there. I hardly ever throw up so this is a rare occurrence. I take a hand towel to cup in my hand over my mouth in case I throw up again or dry heave. Oh dear god, please don't have this come out the other end. He assists me into bed but does not join me, instead kneels beside the bed to observe me. Stroking my forehead with his fingers pushing my sweaty hair back. The towel is still drawn to my face and all that is uncovered are my eyes. 

He positions a small trash can by the bed. "Baby, do you have sympathy morning sickness?" I manage to chuckle beneath the hand towel. "No Sweetheart, I think I have some nasty cooties the way I feel. See if you can find me some Pepto Bismol or something that could settle my tummy down." 

Quickly, he goes to the bathroom, comes back with some Pepto and a cold, wet washcloth for me. "Baby, I always carry it with me. I sometimes have stomach problems." I put the magic pink tablets in my mouth to dissolve, hoping I don't throw them up. Gently wiping the sweat from my face with the cool washcloth, "Baby, would you feel better if I held you in my arms?" 

I nod and he climbs over me, gathering me up in his arms. I think it would be a good idea if we just spoon because I have a feeling this ain't over. "Sweetie, don't hold me so tight, I might need to grab the trash can." Kissing the back of my neck tenderly, I relax in his hold, feeling all his endless love course through me. 

My mind starts to wander thinking about all we've been through together these past 18 months and how good he always takes care of me. A year ago January, I flew to Minneapolis to do a job for my best friend, my girlfriend. Quickly, we discovered we had deep feelings for one another, feelings that were always there but never fully realized or expressed. After a whirlwind courtship, that led us to getting married less than 6 months later, I had breast reconstruction surgery, twice and arthroscopic knee surgery. 

He had hip replacement and a minor hip readjustment surgery. We celebrated our year of discovering our love...in the hospital, together after we both had minor surgery. Shortly after that, while recovering from our surgeries, I was in a car accident caused by black ice, suffered a concussion and hypothermia all because I didn't like him building me a house without my knowledge. I left him alone in the new house when he accused me of being like all the other women, only going as far as Paisley Park. Left him again in London, when he was thoughtlessly bumping and grinding on a young singer, on stage no less, in front of me and a thousand concertgoers. He left me because I didn't tell him all of my painfully tragic backstory and he conjured up in his mind I didn't love him anymore.