Page 6 of Blizzard Babies
We all laugh.
“Miikka wants a hundred,” Charli says, toying with the eggs on her plate. “If I’m this sick for all of them, I’ll suck it up for one more, but that’s it.”
“Miikka needs to find a way to be pregnant if he wants a hundred,” Laurel grunts.
“Right?” Whitney shakes her head. “Jack and I want two. I’m okay with that, but I didn’t realize how cranky I would be about gaining weight. As a model, I’ve always watched my figure. I know being pregnant isn’t the same as actually gaining weight for no reason, but I’m struggling every time something I used to wear doesn’t fit. It’s dumb, but I can’t seem to help it.”
“It’s not dumb,” Laurel says softly. “You’re allowed to feel all the things you’re feeling. As a former pro athlete, I had a lot of the same emotions when I was pregnant with Matthew, but I’m not as worked up about it this time because I know I can get back into shape. It’s not easy, but it’s doable. And the payoff is that beautiful baby, you know? It sucks while we’re going through it, though. No doubt about that.”
“Am I the only one who isn’t miserable right now?” I ask, looking around. “Don’t get me wrong, I miss hockey and wine and my waistline, but I’m excited to meet her.” I pause. “Aren’t you guys?”
“Sure.” Whitney nods. “I’d just like to meet him or her sooner rather than later. August seems really far away.”
“And September is even further,” Charli admits. “I’m considering quitting work now because I can’t stop puking. Speaking of which—” She gets up and rushes toward the restrooms.
“Ugh. I don’t envy that,” Whitney murmurs. “I should stop whining because I barely had any morning sickness at all.”
“She’s through the first trimester, right?” Laurel asks.
I nod. “Yeah. She told me she’s going to talk to the doctor about meds for the nausea if she hasn’t gained any weight at her next appointment.”
“Okay, I don’t feel as shitty anymore,” Whitney says.
“Me either,” Laurel agrees, patting her stomach. “Although I still want her out!”
“Be careful what you wish for!” I tell her.
“I’m due March twenty-eighth,” she says. “If I’m out six weeks, that puts me at mid-May. Assuming we get that far, it’ll be the second round of the playoffs and it’s going to be jarring for everyone if I just jump back into the fold.”
“Maybe you… shouldn’t?” I suggest delicately, meeting her gaze. “I mean, what if you just stayed on maternity leave?”
Laurel wrinkles her nose. “I can’t wrap my head around that. I just can’t.”
“But if they’re winning…” I let my voice trail, not wanting to be a jerk but vocalizing what she has to be thinking.
“Yeah, I know.” She looks away, obviously conflicted.
“I think you’re always going to do what’s best for the team,” Whitney says after a moment. “And you won’t know what that is until you get to that point. For now, you need to focus on getting your blood pressure down—” That’s one of the reasons the doctor didn’t allow her to travel with the team. “—and having a safe, healthy delivery.”
“I know you’re right.” Laurel nods. “It’s hard to find the balance between mommy-to-be and professional woman.”
“Amen to that.” Charli slides back into her chair. “God, this sucks.”
“You’re still feeling crappy, huh?” I wrinkle my nose.
“Yeah.” She sighs, pushing her plate away as she rests her elbows on the table and her chin in her hands. “And I really don’t want to leave mid-school year. Those are my babies, you know? They’ve grown up so much since school started and not seeing the year through feels all kinds of wrong. But going in every day and not giving them my full attention because I feel so awful isn’t right either.”
“What do you think you’re going to do?” I ask gently.
“I don’t know. I’m going to hold out until my next appointment. If I haven’t gained any weight and am still puking multiple times a day, I’ll have to make some very hard choices.”
“I think we need to do something fun today to distract us,” Laurel says, sitting up straighter. “How about a spa day? Or at least pedicures or something? I was going to wait until I got closer to my due date but fuck it. Let’s do it today.”
“It’s already snowing,” I say, looking out the window. “I think a lot of places are closing early because of the storm.”
“It says it’s not supposed to hit until after four,” Whitney protests, looking at something on her phone. “We should have a few more hours.”
“As long as you don’t mind me making a run for the bathroom all morning,” Charli says, shrugging. “I’m down for almost anything that will keep me from thinking about how miserable I am.”
