Whose Fault? (Editing)

Chapter Twenty-Two

I nodded my head. Eight weeks? There's only eight weeks left! That's not enough time!

We were coming home from another doctor's appointment; I had to go every two weeks now, but they hadn't done an ultrasound in a long time and I just wanted to see her. I wanted to see what she looked like and how much she'd grown since the last time. It wasn't needed though, so they hadn't done one. It sucked. I missed seeing her.

Dr. Clarey told me a while ago that if I was ever worried about her or if I thought she wasn't moving around enough that music would help. So, naturally, I had made a playlist of calming songs that was always playing, whether my baby girl was moving around or not. I think Max was a bit over it, but he didn't complain and even if he did, I didn't care.

So as we put together the crib and changing table, we listened to the playlist through the TV in the living room. I began to worry that there wouldn't be enough room in my bedroom for everything. I thought about if I really needed all the bigger pieces of furniture in my room that were already there and which could leave.

I could put the desk in the other bedroom for now, but then I'd need to bring it back in when the fall semester started. "Do you think my dresser will fit in the closet?"

"Most likely. Why?" Max questioned.

"Well, the room is gonna be really crowded if I keep everything in here as it is." He nodded, agreeing with me.

He got up and pushed the dresser into the closet. I took a breath already feeling much less claustrophobic and thanked him when he returned to the room.

Max and I had a good system going, since I couldn't help too much, I read him all of the directions and handed him the tools or pieces he needed if I could reach them from where I was. Within a few hours we were finished with the furniture. Max went downstairs and installed the car seat by himself. I wanted to go with him, but he told me he could do it himself and that I'd get hot extremely fast outside. So instead, I started folding and placing clothes in the drawers of the changing table.

There was a song on my playlist called 'Your Song' that I really focused on while it was playing. The original version of the song was by Elton John, but the one I had saved was a cover done by Lady Gaga. I remembered watching her perform it on TV once and I fell in love with how she did it. As I listened I found myself singing along and connecting to the song, so much so that I put it on repeat.

I didn't know when Max returned inside, but when he saw me his eyebrows furrowed. "Why are you crying?"

I hadn't even realized I was crying, I placed my hands on my belly before answering, "I think I'm in love with this song, Max. Because it's true. It may not be perfect but when I'm thinking about her, life is wonderful and if she didn't exist, I wouldn't have that. Who knows where I'd be or if I would even still be here?"

Within the next seven days, I managed to finish putting all the baby things away, baby proofing, and packed a hospital bag. I also memorized all the lyrics to the Elton John song. It was the only song I ever played anymore. Anytime there was music on, that song was playing and I was singing or humming along.

I was currently listening to it through the speakers in the living room while sitting on the couch looking at baby names. After a few minutes of scrolling through a website, I scoffed and closed the page, "why is it so hard to find an amazing name?"

"Because it's your baby and you want her name to be perfect for her."

I hummed in response as I clicked the link to another names website. I scrolled for a minute or so before my phone was snatched from my hand, "hey! What was that for?!"