A chapter in their lives…
The first ultrasound at twenty weeks went smoothly, but Harry decided that he didn’t want to know the sex of the baby. I, on the other hand, disagreed with him. We already fought enough on how I should take care of myself–he thought I couldn’t even make the bed, I always tried to lift heavy boxes–that not knowing the sex would just bring more fights in the future. The color of the room, for instance. Or baby name ideas. We couldn’t agree on anything.
“Fucking hell, Elena. How many times do I have to tell you not to get up on a chair?”
“Do you want your God damn pancakes or not?” I asked. All morning he’d been nagging me about wanting pancakes, and all I did was to get up on a chair and reach in the upper cupboard for the flour. “Go in the living room and leave me alone.”
He growled. He fucking growled. “Don’t speak to me like that, El. This is my baby you’re putting in danger, for fuck’s sake.”
“Your baby?” I hiss, jumping off the chair once the bag of flour is secured in my hands. “Excuse me. Remind me who the fuck is carrying your baby? Remind me who the hell looks like a whale and eats for two? Or who has to pee every two minutes? Oh, I’m sorry. Did you have to go through morning sickness for three months? Or fatigue and muscle pain and migraines?”
But he simply rolled his eyes at that. “So, maybe you’re carrying it, fine, but who put it in there?”
I couldn’t believe he was saying that. I was all for using the ‘We’re pregnant!’ expression, even though technically, I’m pregnant, he’s just watching me gaining weight, but this was too much. “Oh, you little piece of shit. That’s not my fault if you couldn’t keep it in your pants for one night.”
“Don’t speak to me like that, or don’t speak like that at all. You’ve giving a bad influence on Bean. Jesus fucking Christ.”
“And you’re not?” I yelled in disbelief. He was the one throwing curse words around like there’s no tomorrow. “You know what? Shove your pancakes right up your ass, Harry.”
And I threw the bag of flour on him before storming out of the kitchen. All I heard was a numerous amount of curse words when the bag exploded in his arms.
But aside from the small disagreements, the pregnancy has been very fine so far. No heavy sickness, no major pains–except Harry, he’s a real pain in the ass–and no stretch marks. So at twenty-eight weeks, I can officially say that I embrace being pregnant. My belly has grown relatively large, even though I’ve been told that I’m five pounds under the normal weight, and our baby is healthy and moving.
However, for today’s doctor appointment, I’ve decided to ask about the sex of the baby.
To be fair, with our wedding coming up next week, I thought it would be a great surprise to tell Harry whether we’re having a little girl or a little boy. He’s the one who wanted to get married while I’m pregnant, but not too pregnant to the point where I couldn’t walk. And since I have to get married looking like a fat slob in a wedding dress, I thought it would just be fair to know at least who I’m looking like a fat slob for.
“We should get married before the baby comes,” Harry said one morning while we laid in bed naked. My tummy was still invisible back then, and I could easily lie on top of him without crushing Bean. “I want Bean to be part of the wedding, but if they’re a baby you’ll have to breastfeed in your wedding dress.”
“I’m not breastfeeding,” I snorted, giggling against his chest. “And if you want to get married before Bean comes, we should do it soon because I’m not getting married looking like a white whale in a zoo.”
I felt the vibration of Harry’s stomach before I heard the growl. “What do you mean, you’re not breastfeeding?”
And there was another argument. “Well, if I don’t want to look like a whale in a wedding gown, I certainly don’t want to feel like a cow breastfeeding.”
“You’re breastfeeding,” he affirmed, matter-of-factly, as if this has been discussed. “Breast is best, and you’re breastfeeding whether you like it or not. Or you can pump, but they’re the only two options I’m giving you.”
“Options?” I scoffed, slowly sitting up. “Who the hell do you think you are, Styles? You can’t force me to do anything, and I’m not breastfeeding. Jesus, my mom gave me formula and look how I turned out.”
He raised a brow challengingly. “Exactly, so we’re breastfeeding.”
“Go fuck yourself,” I snapped as I hit his chest. “We’re not breastfeeding, so get that out of your head right now. And we still have six months to talk about this, so can we about the wedding now?”
Harry has appointments and meetings all day today, and was devastated when management refused to give him the day off. I could’ve rescheduled, but the appointment would’ve gone after the wedding and our honeymoon, and I thought that everything should be done before. At least he’s met the doctor several times and questioned him on everything there is to know about pregnancy, so missing one appointment shouldn’t kill him. I hope. I’ve already prepared myself for the tears, the happiness and the surprise, and Harry is just pacing around making sure I’ve got everything before he leaves. At least he still allows me to drive, and that’s a fight we had more than once.
“You know I can call in sick, yeah?” Harry sighs, rubbing my stomach with one hand while his other one rests on the back of my neck. “I can just tell them that I woke up feeling sick.”
“Harry, I’m fine on my own,” I assure for the millionth time. “Go to your meeting and I’ll meet you at the restaurant after my appointment.”
He looks completely unsure. “It’s not fair. It’s my baby, too. I should be allowed to be with you to know about our baby. What if there’s something wrong? Or like, what if they tell you you’re dilated and about to go into labor? And I’m not there?”
I roll my eyes at him. “First of all, I’m twenty-eight weeks pregnant. If my vagina’s dilated, it’s because of all the sex we’ve been having since you found out about my prenatal multiple orgasms. And if there was anything wrong with our baby, which I am carrying, she or he wouldn’t be moving so much and kicking like a crazy.”
He still doesn’t look convinced. “You’ll call me if there’s anything wrong, yeah?”
“Babe, we’re getting married in a week, Haz. I think you should start trusting me before you put a rock on my finger.”
“Right,” he chuckles, leaning down to press his lips on mine. “I trust you with my life, but I’m worried about Little Bean. I feel like a horrible dad.”
Bean kicks gently as Harry continues to rub my tummy in the direction of the movement, and I smile against his lips. “What bean doesn’t know won’t kill it, babe. You’re a great daddy.” And it’s true. Harry has taken care of me and bean very well so far. He made me a food schedule and menu, gives me my prenatal vitamins every morning, reaches the high cupboards for me and refuses that I do anything or clean anything in the house. He even washes my back–
Okay, Harry has been a great dad but to be very honest, he sometimes pushes it. I mean, according to his menu, I have to eat gigantic breakfasts to activate my metabolism for the day. I can barely drink anything in the morning because of the mild nausea, let alone eat eggs, potatoes, bacon and toast. And the no-cleaning rule? I don’t like having maids coming to the house and touch our stuff, so every time he has to leave for a couple of hours, I vacuum and dust around before cancelling the maids for the day.
“Alright, I have to go,” Harry sighs heavily, looking at me with apologetic eyes. “Call if there’s anything, and call as soon as you leave the doctor’s office. We’ll be at the restaurant for a few hours but the boys won’t mind that you tag along.”
“Have they gone to their fittings? Because of Niall missed this one again, I swear to God that my hormones are gonna take over.”
Harry laughs, throwing his head back and all. He knows how mean I can get because of the hormones, and all the boys know better than to aggravate me. Louis was actually terrified when he found out that Eleanor was pregnant; he thought she’d be like me.
He was even more terrified when she happened to be worse.
“They’ve gone to their fittings and everything is fine. Don’t stress about the wedding, yeah?” Harry grins, poking my nose with his fingertip. “You don’t need stress and everything is fine. In exactly a week and two days you’ll be the most beautiful bride, and our wedding is going to be perfect.”
I nod. “Okay, I trust you, but now leave. Mommy has to do her makeup checking up on Little Bean.”
“Alright. I’ll see you and don’t forget to call. I swear, if you don’t call, Elena–”
“What? You’ll spank me?” I challenge with a smirk, crossing my arms over my chest. At this point in the pregnancy, my arms just rest against the belly. “Because then I won’t call.” Iwatch a flash of pure lust in his green orbs.
“Fucking hell,” he curses, pinching the bridge of his nose and sliding his feet into these hideous boots. “Just call.”
And with that, he leaves.
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Chapter End Notes:
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-Katexx