Seattle Washington, March 4 1993
"Ugh... do we really have to do this interview...?" Chris sniffs as he stands by the front door waiting for me to grab my planner. Chris has been fighting off a cold for the last week and I swear to god, if you want your husband to be a baby, just let him catch a cold. It will make your life amazing!
"Yes... the interview was set up with RIP magazine weeks ago, so we can't cancel now," I say as I walk over to him and grab my bag to stuff my planner in. As I reach for my leather jacket, Chris let's out the loudest sneeze that made me jump.
"Fuck... I neeb a Kleenex," He says completely stuffed, holding his hands over his nose and hurries into the kitchen for some tissues to clean himself.
"Uh... I can't breathe..." He calls from the kitchen, muffled as he wipes his nose. I let out a frustrated exhale, though I don't mean to be frustrated. I'm feeling irritated and I don't know why, but if he complains one more time about his nose, I'm going to flip. I quickly throw on my jacket and sling my bag over my shoulder as he comes out of the kitchen blowing his nose some more and letting out another sneeze.
"Do you hab my allergy stuff...?" Chris sniffs as he walks back up to me.
"In my bag," I say sarcastically and reach in my bag to grab him an anti-histamine.
"Ok, you don't need to be so moody... I can't fucking help it that I'm sick," Chris looks annoyed at me and takes the packet.
"Sorry... we're going to be late..." I say trying to not sound annoyed but it's hard when he's been driving me insane for the last week. I grab my keys off the table by the front door and head out to the front porch. He gives me a weird look and then follows me out the door.
The magazine interview was set up at Murphy's pub downtown and so I was excited to grab a basket of those delicious fries and onion dip while the interview took place. During the drive downtown, Chris could not stop sneezing and blowing his nose in which I tried to not let it annoy me but he was really trying my patience.
"Did you not take the anti-histamine I just gave you...?" I ask.
"Yea... I don't know why it's not workig... and why the hell are you snappig at me?' Chris retorts, his nose still stuffed which makes him not able to pronounce his 'N's and 'M's' as we make our way down the road. I look out the windshield and avoid his question because all I want to do is just get away from him or yell at him or both. It's a very complicated emotion I'm feeling right now.
"Great, now we're fucking late..." I say as I glance at the digital clock on the dashboard.
"Well fuck, sorry I had to drag myself outta bed which is where I really want to be instead of answering stupid fucking questions that have been asked so many fuckig tibes before..." He says looking at me with a hardened expression.
"I couldn't cancel it,"
"You shoulda tried harder," Chris retorts as we come up to a stoplight.
"You know you could call Susan too and ask to cancel things, it doesn't always have to be me that talks to her," I say annoyed.
"But you're the P.A... you're supposed to do those thigs, that's your job," Chris remarks.
"So I'm your P.A all the time... even when your not on tour?" I ask sarcastically looking at him.
"No... you're my wife all the tibe -'
"So, because I'm your wife I'm just supposed to do everything for you?" I say angered.
"No, that's not what I'mb saying,"
"Sure fucking sounds like that's what your saying," I say and look out the windshield.
"Andi, what the fuck is your probleb? Why are you so full of fuckig attitude?," Chris says louder and more annoyed.
"I'm just hungry and we're late," I say still looking out the windshield.
"Well fucking loose the snarkiness alright? I'm not in the fuckig mood to deal with your bitchiness and then go into this interview pretendig to be happy to be there, when I'd rather be in bed sleepig this off...!" Chris yells and I just stare out the windshield.
"I'll loose the bitchiness when you stop annoying me," I say back.
"I'm annoying?! What the fuck am I doig to annoy you?!" Chris sniffs.
"Nothing... just fucking drive ok?" I say, still not knowing myself where this is coming from, but I need to take it out on someone and since Chris is the only one here in my presence, he is unfortunately feeling the wrath of my irritation.
"Fuck," Chris exhales frustratedly as the light changes green and we head through the intersection making our way to the pub in silence.
Seattle Washington, March 15 1993
"Fuck me..." I say quietly to myself as I brush my teeth in the sink of our bathroom. It was the second time I've thrown up today. What the fuck did I eat? I've been feeling nauseous for the last few days and I can't figure out what it is that I ate that is making me feel this way. I quickly finish rinsing and dry my hands off on the towel that was hung on the towel rack and then head back out of the bathroom.
Chris and the guys were rehearsing downstairs and I could hear the music flowing up from the basement. I reach the bottom of the stairs and see Chris playing his black Fender Stratocaster while his voice sings out the lyrics to 'Head Down', one of the new songs that Ben wrote. Then the weirdest thing began to happen. I started feeling nauseous yet again. Just as Chris and the guys finish the song, Chris gives me a concerned look and I immediately run myself back upstairs, just making it to the washroom that was just off the living room.
"Baby...?" Chris knocks on the door after a few minutes. I hope he wasn't hearing me throw up.
"Yea..." I call as I flush the toilet.
"You ok...?" Chris asks.
"Yea... you can come in if you need to..." I say as I start the water in the sink to clean myself up a bit. He opens the door and steps inside as I dry my face with the hand towel.
"You sure you're ok...? You took off from the basement in a hurry there..." He smirks.
"Yea... I just uh... got really nauseous again, all of a sudden... I'm ok though... you didn't hear me did you?" I ask as I look at him through the reflection of the mirror.
"No..." Chris says, his blue eyes shining in the bathroom vanity light.
I turn and look up at him as he looks down at me, he moves closer and places a kiss on my forehead. He then draws me into him as I place my hands on his chest, feeling him flex a little through his black 90 logo T-shirt. Once again, out of nowhere I started feeling it again.
"I uh... I think I'm going to go and just lay down on the couch for a little while," I say as I try to control my breathing.
"You alright...?" He asks concerned.
"Yea...yea I'm fine... I just need to lay down," I say as I pull myself away from him as he watches me make my way to the couch in the living room.
"Do you need anything baby?" Chris asks as he attempts to help me to the couch.
"Uh, maybe just... water?" I say as I sit down, trying to control my breathing and just relax. Fuck I hate this. Chris runs out to the kitchen and grabs me a cold glass of water, then heads back over and hands it to me. I take a huge sip and he places a kiss on my forehead.
"We're not going to be too much longer ok...?" He says as he moves away from me.
"It's ok... I'll be fine..." I say as I lay back.
"Ok..." Chris says and gives me another quick kiss on my forehead, then heads back downstairs into the studio.
Seattle Washington, March 20 1993
A few days later, I was still feeling queasy. It wasn't as intense as before but I was a little concerned. Normally, if it was something I ate, it would have ended by now. Now I know what you're thinking... I'm pregnant... but I already took a test and it was negative, just like all the other ones. Chris and I were still trying to have a baby but we weren't doing it by a certain set schedule like before. After we had that conversation at Lola's Restaurant back in January, we threw away anything that reminded us of a calendar and just went back to being us, in the moment. Trying, but not trying if that makes sense.
But just to make sure, though I know I'll be proven wrong, I'm sitting here in our bathroom, like so many times before, waiting for this little piece of plastic to once again decide my fate.
"I don't know why I'm even taking one... I know what it's going to say..." I say quietly to myself. It was early in the morning and Chris was still sleeping soundly in our bed. I couldn't sleep at all as well, you know, I'm still nauseous as ever.
But just as soon as I was sure I knew what this little piece of plastic was going to say, I look down and see that the normal blue line that I'm so used to seeing was actually a blue plus sign, as clear as it could be.
Positive.
I stare at the stick for what seemed like forever, not wanting to take my eyes off of it, afraid it was a dream. I cover my mouth with my hand to keep myself from crying out in hysterical happiness. I didn't want to wake Chris just yet. Oh who am I kidding? I want to scream it from the rooftop of our house. I almost want to take another one just to make sure, just in case this one was broken or something.
Staring at that blue plus sign, tears welling up in my eyes, I want to keep this moment here with me forever. I wipe the stray tears of happiness from my eyes, stand up from the toilet seat and make my way into our bedroom.
I see Chris sleeping so soundly, his face buried in the pillow with his curls strewn across, the blankets barely pulled up to his hips, seeing the slow rise and fall of his breathing as he is lost in a dream somewhere. I slowly make my way over to him, crawling up on my knees into the space beside him, making myself comfortable, while I wear his blue plaid button up shirt. I watch him sleep for a few more moments, admiring his features as I softly brush his curls out of his face. His beautiful eyelashes, his perfectly trimmed beard with slight stubble on his cheeks and those irresistible full lips that make me want his kisses to never end. He moans a little as his brow furrows, shifting a little and turning to see me looking at him.
"Hey," He says, his voice raspy from sleeping as he turns on his side and rubs his eyes to rid the sleep.
"Hi," I say quietly, desperately trying to hold it in. He looks up at the beside table, the clock reading 7:30 AM, and looks back at me, his eyes fluttering, trying to focus.
"It's early..." He breathes in.
"Yea..." I say quietly as I look at him. He stretches so cutely and then shifts himself onto his back, moving up the bed to lean against the headboard and pillows. He looks at me with those beautiful Irish blue eyes and gives me a smirk, still not having any clue what I am about to tell him.
"What is it baby...?" He giggles a little as he reaches up and moves a stray curl from my eyes.
"It worked..." I say as I look down in my hands that held the pregnancy test. He follows my gaze and looks down at the plastic stick that I held and I look up at him. At first there was no expression from him but as I wait for his reaction, he shifts himself more into a seated position and takes the stick from me. His brow furrows, his pupils dilate as he flicks them back to mine.
"You're...?" He trails off looking at me as I quickly nod my head at him.
"You're having my baby...?" His bottom lip quivering as he looks back down at the stick and I lean in and touch my forehead to his.
"I'm having your baby...."
He closes his eyes and crashes his lips to mine. He reaches up and cups my face in his palms as I suck that beautiful bottom lip of his, then moving his hands down to my hips and he pulls me in to his lap. He moves his hands up under my shirt, up my sides and in one movement, I'm on my back with him over top of me, letting out a squeal against his lips while he wraps my legs around his waist. He chuckles when his lips break away from mine. I look into his eyes and bite my bottom lip as he opens my shirt, his attention turning to my stomach and placing soft gentle kisses as I lace my fingers through his curls. He stops after a few moments and rests his head on my stomach, his hands still holding my hips while I still continue to softly play with his curls.