Paris (excerpt from "Trapped" Chapter Four)

I knew my parents were proud of me—their only daughter—who had accomplished everything they could ever dream of and in the order they would have wanted.  Of course, after our first year of marriage, both our parents started teasing us about making them grandparents.  Drake and I had discussed children, but we both had decided we were not in a rush.  If it happened, we’d deal with it and if not, we wouldn’t be overly concerned.  So, when I missed my period, it was not a time to sound the alarm, we simply waited for the test to confirm or deny our suspicions.  We were going to be parents.  Drake was excited and I was, too, at first. 

I’ve never really understood how some women could have baby after baby with apparent ease.  I was not one of those women.  In the fifth month, I was told that I was going to have to be on complete bed rest if I was going to carry to term.   Drake was both concerned and considerate during the entire pregnancy.  I must admit he was more anxious than I was.  Both sets of grandparents took turns waiting on me hand and foot until it was time for the baby to arrive.  We knew it was a boy and of course Drake was walking around like he had just performed the first miracle.  Both grand papas were equally happy and all they could discuss was the sports toys they were going to buy.  The grand mamas—were a different story.  They spent their time counseling me on the best methods to do—everything—pertaining to newborns and new moms.  To be perfectly honest, I was getting a little tired of all the unsolicited advice.  I just wanted this to be over with so I could move on with my life. 

I was bloated and felt like a helium balloon about to burst any second.  My ankles were swollen, my breasts hurt and every time I looked in a mirror, I wanted to cry.  I was really getting sick and tired of people telling me how beautiful I was, too.  I thought they had to be blind—there was nothing beautiful about me that I could see—fat face and all.  I guess, if truth be told, I was beginning to resent my baby before it was even born.  I couldn’t work and had to stay in bed for months.  How boring is that?