The Way We Feel

Chapter 39

The cap came off with a pop.

"Alright, let's have it," Harry said, sitting on the lounge chair beside mine in our backyard and cracking open a water bottle that he'd grabbed for himself.

"You share your birthday with at least 9 million other people in the world," I read, the refreshing taste of raspberry tea cool on my tongue.

"Hm," Harry said, sunlight reflecting off his sunglasses. "That's a bit mad, isn't it?"

I had to laugh. "Just a bit."

I took another sip, looking out at the view of L.A. from our perch beside the pool, wondering how the hell this was my life. How I was sitting here in this backyard with my gorgeous husband, sipping Snapple Iced Tea with a hand on the side of my round belly, where our daughter would only be growing for another month.

The next sip of iced tea went down a little harder than the last.

"That one's probably true," Harry said then.

It took me a moment to understand what he was talking about—the Snapple fact. "Probably, yeah. It would make sense."

My hand ran over my belly, my skin taut and warm beneath my touch, even through my sweatshirt. I was braless, only wearing one of my maternity sweatshirts over underwear because I'd felt too constricted in any clothes I put on this morning. And it was cool enough out that goosebumps kept appearing on the skin of my legs, but I had no desire to put on pants.

It wasn't a good day. I'd been having a lot less of those lately. The pain in my hips made it basically impossible for me to move around too much without frequent breaks for rest. So, while Harry and I had been planning to get out today—maybe do some Christmas shopping since we were a couple weeks away, maybe do some more shopping for baby clothes (Harry had suggested that we had enough, but I couldn't seem to help myself)—we'd ended up getting a slow start, taking our time with breakfast and showering, and then just staying home.

I didn't mind a lazy morning, but it would've been a nicer, more enjoyably experience if I wasn't also feeling so restless. And exhausted. Which was a combination that was only managing to make me nervous.

About everything.

"When do you think her birthday's going to be?" Harry asked me next.

My nerves spiked.

We were just about a month out. My due date was January 6, and there was no telling whether she would be early or late. And we still had to somehow get through Christmas with everyone here, and if my hips were still giving me as much trouble in a few weeks time, I had no idea how I would manage it. And I was pretty sure it was only going to get worse.

"Mads?"

"Oh, um... I don't know. Hopefully she'll come on time." I had both hands on my belly now, the book I'd been perusing before Harry had returned with our drinks open and facedown on top of it.

The idea that this baby wouldn't be inside me anymore—the idea that she would be a living, breathing, tiny little human in my arms in just a month's time, maybe less than a month...

A cold sweat broke out across my skin, even though a tiny thrill shot through my chest, setting off an incredible ache in my heart.

"Think she'll come early? A New Year's baby?"

I swallowed the sip of raspberry tea in my mouth, and tried not to focus on the nausea I was suddenly feeling. "Even if she doesn't, it'll still be close enough that she'll be a New Year's baby no matter what."