Incredible Beauty (So Many Reasons 2)

“Fine,” I relented. “Can you get me some water?” He nodded and left the room. Rolling onto my left side, I rubbed my stomach. The ache was gone completely too. For a moment I wondered if us having sex had hurt the baby, but I dismissed the thought almost immediately as stupid. The doctor had said sex was fine, so long as I was comfortable enough to do it.

Simon returned, with two ambulance officers in tow and my glass of water. He stood back as the officers checked me over.

“No pain at all now?” one asked. I shook my head.

“None.”

“And no bleeding or abnormal discharge?” he asked. Again, I shook my head. “Everything seems fine now. We can take you to hospital for observation, or you can stay here and head in yourself if anything changes.” He glanced from me to Simon. “The baby’s heartbeat is strong and all your vitals are within normal range.”

“I don’t want to go to hospital,” I answered. Simon gave me a look. “I have an appointment with my obstetrician tomorrow anyway and we are only five minutes away from the hospital if we need it,” I reasoned. Simon nodded.

“Okay,” he sighed. “I’ll see you guys out. Thanks for coming.” As the three of them left the room, I breathed out heavily. Thank god my baby was okay.

Chapter Two

Emma

My eyes squinted as the sunlight poured through the drapes. Fumbling for my cell on the bedside table, I checked the time. Typical, it was only 10am. Can you tell I’m not a morning person? If there was one thing I hated it was waking up before my alarm went off, especially when there was no way of getting back to sleep, that didn’t involve me getting up to close the drapes.

Damn Simon, no matter how many times I told him off for not closing them completely, the next morning the stupid sun would wake me up again. I'm sure he did it on purpose just to annoy me. Grabbing a fistful of the sheets I yanked them above my head, letting the darkness envelope me. Just as I was about to drift off to sleep, I had the overwhelming urge to pee.

As much as I loved being pregnant, what I didn't love was the waking up six times during the night to pee that went along with it. Dragging myself out of bed, I touched my growing bump. Today, I was seven months pregnant, or 228 days, not that I was counting. Okay, so maybe I was counting, but I'd never dreamed this would ever happen to me and moments like last night did nothing for my stress levels.

Last night had been scary and Simon hadn’t wanted to leave me alone today. Of course I insisted I was fine and there was not a worry in the world for me, which made things even harder. We both knew I wasn’t coping and I couldn’t talk to him about it.

I hated not being able to talk to him about how I was feeling. It had been so long since I had to depend on somebody other than myself, that it scared me. I felt like I was a better person with him, but what if he decided to leave me? Just because something feels like its forever now, doesn’t mean it will still feel that way in a year, or in ten years. There was a time he’d thought Claire was forever. What if I turned out to be just another Claire?

Everything Simon did somehow reflected his love for me. After Derek was killed, Simon spent the next two weeks holed up in my apartment with me, where we spent every moment together, from watching girly movies, to pretending to be interested in the outcome of The Bachelor. Everything he did during those two weeks was done with the intention of making me feel better. I lost count of the number of nights we spent curled up on the balcony, staring up at the stars. On our three month anniversary he made me spend the day in the bedroom so he could surprise me. Walking into the living room I followed the trail of rose petals that led out onto the balcony. Simon had set up the spare bed outside, along with a platter of fresh seafood with music playing softly in the background.

“What is this?” I gasped, my hand rising to cover my mouth. He walked over to me, his strong hands curling themselves around my waist, resting on my back. Walking me backwards, he guided me over to the bed.

“You deserve to be spoiled, so I’m going to spoil you rotten,” he’d whispered in my ear, trailing kisses down my neck. That night was up there as one of the best nights of my life, along with the night he proposed to me.

Being in a relationship and opening your heart to trusting another person are two completely different things. One did not automatically assume the other. If the last few months had taught me anything, it was that relationships are hard work. Early on, even the most trivial things, like him leaving squeezing the toothpaste from the middle of the tube, or not putting his dirty clothes in the hamper turned into a huge crisis. I’d never had to deal with that before, being around someone all the time and having to deal with each other’s little quirks. Now, some of those things are among the things I loved most about him.

I loved everything about Simon, from the twinkle his eyes got when he was amused by something, to the way his lips tasted when he kissed me. Even with all that love came the times when he annoyed the hell out of me. He could be so overprotective of me and our baby that it made me want to scream.

Regardless, I loved him and if anything I think I loved him too much. That sounded ridiculous I know, but I loved him to the point where I worried about him not being around. My new psychiatrist explained that my way of coping with my anxieties was to transfer the underlying issues on to something else, or switch the focus, so to speak. It made sense and I guess that explained why I didn’t like talking about it, as to me it made my progress with my issues not nearly as impressive and honestly, I hated that I depended on him so much.

Entering the bathroom, I had to admit there were things about this three bedroom brownstone I really loved. Anyone who knew me would attest for my hatred of new things, which included moving out of my little apartment and into this house with Simon. It had taken a lot of convincing to get me to agree to the move, but in the end here we were and not that I would give Simon the satisfaction of being right, but I loved it here. I loved it because it felt like home.

There was something so nice about living in a small coastal town. It was relaxing. The city was probably not the best choice for a recovering agoraphobic, but here, I could see myself wandering down the street with my baby in its stroller meeting my fiancé for lunch. I hoped I could one day get to that point.

In gaining control of my agoraphobia, I almost felt as if I was losing control, if that even makes sense. Sometimes I feel like I’m on a downward spiral, where everything works me up and the smallest thing is capable of blowing up into these huge disasters where I feel like everything is falling apart. It’s like the anxiety I used to feel (and still do) about leaving the house has now spread into every aspect of my life.

My argument with Simon was a perfect example of this. Another example was two months ago, when I decided to go outside and get the mail. It had taken me so long to finally gain the courage to step out of my house, that afternoon that I had almost forgotten why I had ventured outside in the first place.

I took one step at a time down the front steps, as the morning sun shone down on my shoulders. The path to the mail box, though only twenty feet, felt like miles. To this point I’d never gotten past the front step on my own. It felt amazing as I placed one foot in front of the other, focusing on the lines separating each paver, counting them, one, two, three and four. I forced my mind not to

focus on the fact that I was outside and vulnerable. I thought about my fiancé, Simon. He would be home soon and he would be so proud of what I’d accomplished today.

My fiancé. It was still so strange to say it.

To the outside world, our seven month relationship might seem rushed, but sometimes you just know that this person is the one and that’s how I felt about Simon. In the early part of our relationship, with all that had been going on in both our lives, I didn't have time to doubt the pace that things were moving at, which in hindsight, had been a good thing.

Simon had brought out capabilities in me, I didn't even realize I had. Strength, love and the ability to try to overcome my fears. If things had progressed at a slower pace, then I know the doubts would've crept in and possibly ruined the best thing in my life.

The distraction had worked, because before I knew it, I’d reached into the mailbox with my shaking hands and grasped hold of the mail. It was then I saw them. A group of teenage boys, walking home from school. They were passing the house next door, heading toward me. I began to panic, tears pricking my eyes as my pulse quickened. The fear had hit me like a bat out of hell. It was swirling its way through my mind; my arms tingled and my stomach wretched as the panic attack began to grip hold of me. I fell to the ground crouching up against the fence, hyperventilating and shaking uncontrollably. One of the boys leaned over the fence to check that I was okay. It was only after I shouted at him to leave did they continue on. I sat there, terrified, against the fence for ten minutes before I worked up the courage to get back inside.