Under My Skin

Liam and I are standing in what will be our babies’ nursery. It took me weeks to decide on a theme because I didn’t want to go “all out” just to have to redecorate once they turn one and their needs change. I didn’t realize babies came with so much stuff, so I’ve been standing in the middle of the room, spinning in circles, unsure where to put everything.

“I feel like I’m stuffocating.”

He glances at me with a raised eyebrow and a smirk. “You mean suffocating?”

“No. Stuffocating. We have so much stuff, I can’t breathe. This looks like an episode of hoarders and I’m afraid if we put a baby in here, we won’t even be able to find him later.”

Liam chuckles. “That’s a new one. I know it’s a lot, but we have time to get it all sorted. Don’t worry. We’ll get it ready for them and won’t lose any babies. We still have the extra room upstairs, so I can take anything we won’t use until they’re older up there.”

I feel better after that suggestion, but we are running out of time. At thirty-two weeks pregnant, it’s possible for the babies to come any time now.

Liam spends the next several hours taking one thing after another upstairs to our unused bedroom. When we moved into this house, we assumed it would be our forever home and we’d have more space than we’d ever know what to do with. Turns out, three babies change that in a hurry.

I’m not sure why, but Liam has been distant the past few days, and my hormonal self can’t handle it a minute longer. Before he makes his way back upstairs with the next jumparoo, I ask, “why do I feel like you’re avoiding me today? Have I done something wrong?”

He sets down the baby gear and runs his hands through his overgrown curly hair. “I was trying to find the right time to tell you, but I don’t think there is a good time.”

The absence of his nickname for me and seriousness in his voice has me panicking before he speaks another word. “Are you divorcing me?”

“What? No. Of course not, Chels. You’re my whole world.” He sighs and sits on the charcoal-grey pull-out sofa we placed under the window in case either of us needs to crash in the babies’ room. He folds himself over with his elbows on his knees, head in his hands. “I have to go away for work next week.”

That’s not divorce-level bad, but it’s pretty darn close. “What do you mean ‘away?’ I could go into labour at any time. Did you tell your boss that? Can’t someone else go?”

“Babe, I tried. I promise, I made no less than fifty alternative suggestions, but they weren’t happy with any of them. I have to go to Chicago Monday morning, and I’ll be back Friday evening.”

Unsure what to say in response to that, I opt for nothing. I waddle out of our babies’ room with tears in my eyes. Liam’s job is our livelihood, so some concessions have to be made. However, I thought that’s what the missed appointments were over the past five months. It never occurred to me he’d miss the birth of our children; that I’d have to go through the hardest part alone.

I walk through our bedroom, into our ensuite, and lock the door behind me. It wasn’t my intention to have a shower, but right now, it’s the best place to have a good cry.

I haven’t expressed to Liam how scared I am to have these babies. Not raising them and being a decent mother—we’ve talked about that. I mean the actual birthing process. Having a c-section to remove three babies out of me is terrifying. Sure, the medical staff are experienced, but things still go wrong. What if something happens to me and he’s not there?

The hot water streams down on me for twenty minutes before I sit on the shower bench, letting the water wash away my stress and worries. It’s doing a terrible job.

My first attempt to stand fails. My stomach is so heavy and awkward, I can’t get enough momentum to get up from my slippery seat. My second attempt fails. Five minutes later, all subsequent attempts have failed. I resign myself to the fact I need help, and since I can’t reach my phone to check Amazon for pregnant-lady cranes, I have only one choice.

“Liam?”

He doesn’t even reply. The doorknob rattles for a split second before Liam comes bursting through the door like the Kool-Aid man. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

I stare at him, mouth wide open. “You could have asked that from the other side of the door before you added another item to your to-do list.”

“Uh. Yeah. Sorry. I panicked.”

“I see that.” Laughing is not an option right now because I’m angry with him, so I paste my scowl back on my face. “I’m stuck. I can’t get up.”

He looks relieved, but this is not the best-case scenario. Especially with him leaving in two days. “Is that why you’ve been in here for so long?”

“No, Liam. I was in here crying because I’m about to give birth to three babies, and my husband has decided a work trip is more important.” The fury gives me the strength I need, and I use my upper body to push off the wall and stand. “Good thing I don’t need your help.”

“Babe. I don’t want this. It wasn’t my decision.”

“Last I checked, you were a grown man, Liam. You can make your own decisions.”

“And then what, Chels? Lose my job? Have no way to keep a roof over our heads, or feed our babies? I’m trying here. I really am. Not every decision is simple to make, but I’m doing what I feel like I have to do so you guys are taken care of. I’m not choosing my job over you or our babies.” He tosses me a towel and turns to walk out of the room.

I realize I was too hard on him, and instinctively sit back down on the shower bench. Well, this is awkward. “Liam?”

His face peeks around the door frame. “Yeah?”

“Um. I’m sorry. I’m just scared. I know you’re in a tough spot, and I’m sorry for not considering your perspective.”

“I’m sorry too.” When he walks closer and I can see him clearly through the bathroom fog, he has tears in his eyes. For a man who rarely cries, having babies sure has made him a softie. “I don’t want to miss our babies being born, and I don’t want to not be there for you. There’s just no other choice if I want to keep my job.”

“We’d find another way. There are lots of companies who would be happy to have you.”

“Not here. Maybe in Toronto, sure. I’d have options. But if we want to stay here, close to our families, I can’t afford to burn my bridges at this company. They know they have me in a tight spot, and they don’t care.”

It infuriates me to think this multi-million-dollar company is essentially holding Liam’s ability to support his family hostage, but I know he’s right. In our area, the job market isn’t saturated with loads of opportunity. When he graduated, the job was ideal; it allowed us to buy our home and achieve the goals we set in place. But for them to interfere with Liam being present for the birth of our children, best believe that won’t be forgotten.

After a few seconds of silence, I remember why I called him back. “Liam?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m stuck again.”

He laughs, but I see the worry etched on his face. If something like this happens while he’s away, what am I supposed to do? I can’t very well call the fire department to come get me up.

Liam places one arm under each of mine and hoists me up like a forklift. It’s mortifying. I wrap the towel around myself, and what previously had a solid eight-inch overlap now has an eight-inch gap.

Liam is studying me when I glance at him. “I’m really going to miss you,” he says as he wraps his arms around me. Well, let’s be honest—not all the way around; he’s not Stretch Armstrong. “If anything happens, I’ll be on the first flight back, okay?”

Hearing him say that makes me feel less concerned. “Okay.”

Liam leans in to kiss me, which requires some maneuvering, but he makes it worth the hassle. “I love you so much. Nothing will keep me away from being by your side. I promise.”

He hasn’t disappointed me yet.