So, The Cliffhanger Girl asked me to write a pregnancy one-shot and so I wrote one. This is for you Cliffy! Title inspired by the song "Some Hearts" by Carrie Underwood. Read, review, enjoy!
Disclaimer: I don't own Degrassi or the song "Some Hearts".
I was in Clare and I's bedroom, leaning against the headboard of our bed as I read what must have been my tenth book on birth and pregnancy. Ever since Clare told me about the news eight and a half months ago, I was dedicated to reading everything I could to be prepared. You only have your first child once, you know. I was reading another chapter about placentas when Clare came into our room with a pudding cup and a small bag of Cheetos; it was just one of the many wacky cravings she had been having and it was one of her favorite late-night snacks.
"Sweetheart, I would've gotten that for you," I told her. When she left the room, she had told me she was just going to the bathroom and I was worried that she would fall going up or down the stairs.
"I was already near the stairs," she shrugged as she climbed in on her side. She sighed as she reached for the novel she had been reading; although many would've thought that it was normal to read a novel at night, it was actually a red flag in our house. I had been taking notice of a lot of things ever since Clare got pregnant to tell what kind of mood she was in since she usually would not tell me herself until I got it out of her; she gave me clues that she was upset and I had to figure them out. It was frustrating at times, but I gave her some slack since she was pregnant.
There were many signs she would give when she was upset, but one I was the most familiar with was what she would read before bed. Whenever she was in a good mood, she would read baby books, catalogs that had baby items, or anything that involved babies and children. When she was depressed, however, she would read an actual book so she could escape reality. She was now reading Fight Club, which slightly worried me.
"Are you okay?" I asked her.
"Yeah," she answered, not looking up from her book.
"Are you sure?"
"I'm fine," she snapped.
The pregnancy made her more irritable and I did not want to get on her bad side, so I knew it would be better if I just left it alone. We sat there in the quiet for at least five minutes when I heard a book close with a snap and she put it on her bedside table before she turned to me.
"Do you still think I'm sexy?" she blurted out.
"What?" I asked, turning to her.
"You heard me," Clare said. "Do you still think I'm sexy?"
"Of course I do," I said, putting my book to the side before facing her.
"Really?" she asked, pain showing in her eyes. "Because lately you haven't really . . . shown much interest in me."
"What are you talking about?" I asked. In truth, I have never lost any interest in Clare; if anything, our years of being together have made me more interested in her. Where this assumption of me not being interested came from is a mystery to me. She rubbed the tears that were forming in her eyes before looking at me.
"I was looking through some photo albums a few hours ago and . . . in all of them, you could not keep your hands off me. It was like that at our prom, graduations, our wedding, Drew and Bianca's wedding, our honeymoon, when we first bought our house, everything. But . . . now it's like you don't even want to try."
I then reflected on the last few months; I did not want to admit it, but Clare was right. I had barely touched her in the past few months because she was so irritable. But that was no excuse; I loved Clare and sometimes actions spoke louder than words. I could not believe that I had deprived my wife of physical affection. I could not even begin to imagine all the thoughts that had been going through her head for months.
"I am so, so, so sorry," I said, getting closer to her and wrapping an arm around her shoulders and caressing her large stomach with my other hand. "I didn't know it was making you feel this bad; I would've tried harder if I'd known."
"Why, Eli?" she asked. "Why did you suddenly . . . not want to hold me and stuff anymore?"
"When you found that you were pregnant, you said you were unsure about whether you wanted us to have sex or not during the pregnancy, so –."
"So you only want to touch me if you think you're going to get some?" she snapped, tears now coming down her face.
"No, no, no, honey, that's not it at all," I soothed her quickly, smoothing her tears away. "I just didn't want to pressure you or give you the wrong idea; and . . . I didn't want you to push me away if I tried to hold you."
"I'm pregnant, Eli! I'm going to be sensitive and irritable!" she snapped. She took a breath and shook her head. "Sorry."
"Don't worry," I said, pretty much use to her mood swings by now.
"It's just . . . it's not because of you if I do that, okay?" she told me. "If I could, I'd have you hold me all the time, but sometimes the hormones don't want me to be held."
"I guess that makes sense," I said, never really thinking of it that way. "I'll keep all that in mind when we have Baby Number Two."
She smiled at the idea of a second baby.
"Let's just get through the birth of Baby Number One first, okay?" she grinned.
"Agreed," I told her. "And I'm sorry; I didn't realize I was doing that."
"It's fine," she said; she may have said it, but I doubted she meant it.
"No, it's not," I said, moving a strand of hair behind her ear. "You're carrying our baby and that's a lot on your plate; the last thing you need is a husband who doesn't give you the affection you deserve. From now on, I promise things will be different."
"Thank you," she grinned at him, showing me that she was feeling better. "I'm just glad it was because you didn't want to make me upset. I . . . I thought you didn't want to because I'm hormonal and fat and everything."
"You're not fat; you're pregnant. There's a difference," I told her. She grinned a bit at me, which allowed me to see that she was already feeling better. But that wasn't enough; if she had been feeling so unwanted for a while, I was going to show her just how much she drove me crazy in the best way possible. "Do you want to know something?"
"Sure," she nodded.
"I've actually wanted you every night for months now," I informed her with all the honesty in the world.
Her face turned red and she tried to hold back her smile.
"Are you just saying that so I'll feel better?" she asked.
"No," I told her. "You know how I usually go to the bathroom after you come to bed?"
"Yeah," she nodded.
"I never really had to use it," I said, knowing she would get the idea.
She let out a bashful laugh.
"Absolutely," I said. "I mean . . . with the way you waddle in here with you pregnancy belly . . . the way you wear the maternity clothes . . . the glow it gives you . . . it drives me so crazy."
Not being able to control it anymore, I put my lips to her neck; it had been a while since I did this, so I was determined to make it memorable for both of us. I heard her begin to laugh and I was almost sent over the edge.
"Oh, God, I love it when you do that," I sighed as I kissed her jaw.
"W-What?" she asked breathlessly.
"Giggle like that," I told her.
She giggled again, clearly flattered.
"There you go again," I breathed as my fingers touched the other side of her neck. That caused her to giggle; the more she giggled, the more turned on I got.
"Eli," she breathed.
"Yes, beautiful?" I asked, leaning away to look at her gorgeous eyes. I noticed how her usually clear blue eyes were clouded with lust.
"Can we . . . you know?"
My face nearly broke in half from smiling so much.
"Are you sure?"
"Just be gentle for the baby, okay?"
"I will," I promised.
She then scooted closer to me before knotting her fingers in the hairs on the back of my head. She kissed me passionately and I could not help but reciprocate; I gave her the kiss she deserved as I slid my hands down the sides of her body. She shuddered as my hands met her exposed thighs; the skirt of her nightgown was not that long. I slid my hands under the material and onto her stomach, causing the gown to move up and expose her panties and much of her skin to me.
"You are so beautiful," I whispered huskily before kissing her shoulder.
"Eli . . ." she sighed as I moved my hands over her enlarged breasts. I carefully kneaded them and I began kissing her neck, knowing that she loved it when I did that. I then thought back to the days when we were first married and we'd make love at every opportunity. There was always one thing I did that always made her go wild. Deciding to see if it would still work today, I sank my teeth into her neck.
"ELI!" she then screeched loudly.
"Like that?" I teased, believing that she was yelling from pleasure.
"We need to go to the hospital! I think the baby's coming!"
After hours and hours of intense labor, at four o'clock that morning, Clare and I welcomed our son, Benjamin Elijah Goldsworthy into the world. We were now in our hospital room, Clare holding our bundle of joy in her arms as he rested in his blue blankets.
"He looks just like you," I whispered to Clare as I sat next to her on the bed.
"But he has your nose," she pointed out softly.
I smiled; I could not remember having this feeling in my entire life, but it was probably one of the best feelings in the world . . . it was one of the best feelings in the world.
"Honey, thank you for making me the daddy of a healthy baby boy," I whispered to her. She turned to me and kissed my lips.
"Thanks for making me a mommy," she said. "And . . . sorry about how we didn't end up –."
"Don't worry," I said, sex being the last thing on my mind right now. "This is a million times more important."
"You're right, it is," she agreed before turning back to Ben.
We were silent, too happy to speak as we looked at our son. He may have been just half an hour old, but he had already made a great impact on my life. I did not know how long we gazed at him, but Clare and I had to try our best to stay calm as we saw him begin to lift his eyelids so he could see us for the first time.
"Hi," Clare softly to our baby boy as he revealed his green eyes. "I'm your mommy."
"And I'm your daddy," I said to him, smiling at him. He stared at us, not knowing what to make of this situation; even if staring was all he could do, I'm pleased that he was looking at the two people who loved him more than the world.
"Do you want to hold him?" Clare asked me, realizing how I have not really had a chance to hold our baby yet.
"Definitely," I said.
Seconds later, I was looking down at someone I had loved for so long but have not had the privilege of meeting until now . . . someone my wife and I had created because of our love for each other . . . someone I would love for the rest of my life . . . someone I was proud to call my son.