Unexpected Daddy - The Forbidden Fu

Of course, moving means that I’ll have to say goodbye to most of my minimalist bohemian stuff. My parents don’t need any more furniture, and I can sell these things for some extra money, which will help. But I’m sad about having to say goodbye to this space. I worked so hard for my independence, and sometimes, it feels like admitting defeat to move back in with my parents. Then again, at least it’s only temporary. Once the baby’s older, I can start working, and maybe get my own apartment again. We’ll need a two-bedroom this time for both me and my child.

Felicity claps her hands, pulling me out of my thoughts.

“Alright, hon, when you finish this lap, I want you to get back into the pool.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

I’ve got a black bikini top and a matching skirt on for the water birth. Felicity likes to tease me about being so modest, and I know I’m being silly, but I’m a little embarrassed about having her see all my bits without the rippling of the water to conceal them.

Of course, the middle-aged woman has already seen everything, given that she’s been a midwife for ages. She says she’s seen women practically inside out because of childbirth, and that makes me feel better, even if the image is nauseating. But I guess that’s what labor is: lots of pushing, blood, and then boom! A squalling child arrives.

Right now, Felicity’s sitting on the ground while sipping a cup of rooibos tea in a calm manner. According to her, it’s one of the best teas for pregnancy. It’s completely caffeine free, it helps with stress and depression, and it’s got a bunch nutrients and antioxidants in it. I admit, the stuff is amazing, and once the baby is born, I have a dream of buying a bunch of teas and opening my own shop. Chet said I have my job at the Salty Lagoon waiting for me when I recover, but maybe I won’t need it. Maybe I’ll start a café that specializes in rooibos and other herbal tinctures. I’ll sing there every Friday evening, and my child will coo along in harmony.

That makes me snort. Yeah, right. It’s more like the baby will be screaming his or her lungs out every time I do anything that doesn’t include them. I mutter a bit, rueful at my dreams.

“You’ve been talking to yourself a lot, sweetie,” Felicity hums. “You feeling nervous?”

My cheeks warm. I wonder when I started talking out loud.

“Yes. It’s getting closer, I can tell,” I reply, as if she doesn’t already know this. “I wanted to do a home birth because the hospital was so scary. I went for a tour and it was just so antiseptic. So instead, it’s you, me and Miss Thang,” I say, gesturing to my huge tummy. “But I kind of wish Sam was –”

My voice breaks off. Even the mention of his name threatens to make me cry. I take a deep breath and try to push thoughts of Sam away, but I can feel him lingering at the back of my mind.

Felicity smoothes my hair and looks at me with understanding.

“You’re going to be okay, hon. I’ve delivered hundreds of babies before. You’re going to be fine.”

“You’re right. I’m really glad you’re here, Felicity.”

She smiles in a comforting, Earth Mother way.

“Me too, sweetie. Now, are you sure you don’t want me to call anyone? You said your friend offered to be here with you.”

I shake my head. My phone is turned off and face down on my nightstand. I know that if I turned it on, I’d see a bunch of texts and voicemails from Pepper and my parents. I know they care about me, but I conceived this baby with Sa—with him. If he can’t be here, then I don’t want anyone.

“No, I’m okay,” I say bravely. “It’s just me and the kid.”

She smiles. “You’re strong, Jessa. Probably one of the strongest of my clients, but remember, it’s okay to be weak sometimes. It’s even good for you to rely on others when the occasion calls for it.”

I resist the urge to sigh. That’s exactly the kind of thing I expect Felicity to say, given her tendency to mother me. I’m sure she’s right too, but maybe that’s a lesson I’ll learn after my baby is born. I open my mouth to thank her, but suddenly, a contraction steals my breath and instead, I let out a little shriek. Warm liquid slips down my legs. I look down, and sure enough, there’s a puddle at my feet.

“Felicity, I think my water just broke.”

“Wonderful!” She claps her hands. “That’s what I was hoping for. Now, let’s get you into the pool.”

She helps me into the bright blue inflatable pool, and I sit down with a relieved sigh. The warm water sloshes from side to side as I settle in, and my muscles relax a bit. That’s when another contraction seizes me, and the breath evaporates from my lungs, my knuckles going white. It hurts.