“Wow, would you take a look at that?” I hear the doctor say.
“Oh my,” one of the nurses replies.
“Uh, what’s going on?” I ask.
“Can someone get me a camera?”
Okay, that’s not something you need to hear when your stomach is cut open and you’re strapped to a table.
Someone take this mother f**king sheet down. I don’t give a rat’s ass if I can see right through my stomach and out my vagina. I’ll even help you stuff shit back in.
I can hear some whispering, which makes me a little uncomfortable. I mean, what could they possibly be whispering about? Is there another baby in there no one knew about? Have they found an extra stomach? Maybe I'm supposed to be a twin and I ate her. Have they found my twin sister? Is she looking at them right now like, “What the f**k, people? Get me the hell out of here. I’m twenty-five and I’m the size of a fist. Do I look like I’m comfortable?”
I have always wanted a sister. I can carry her around in my purse like Paris Hilton carries her dog. I can perch her up on my shoulder and she can be like the good angel telling me what decisions I should make.
What if she’s mean though? Twenty-five years is a long time to be in someone’s stomach. Jesus himself would probably even drop a few F bombs about that nonsense. She might sit on my shoulder and just shout insults at everyone.
“You’re tired? Fuck you. I’ve used a uterus as a pillow for twenty five years.”
“I’ve taken dumps bigger than your penis. And I had to do it in a stomach with a baby looking at me.”
“You’re so ugly I wouldn’t even let you f**k my tiny, fossilized punany.”
Mmmmm, this morphine is delicious. Like pot cookies and vodka but without all the weird side effects like hallucinations and crazy talk. I love morphine. It’s so pretty.
“Oh, no worries,” the doctor finally answers. “Your uterus is just in a weird shape right now. We have a wall of pictures in my office of people’s organs and it’s kind of like when you look up at the sky and guess what a cloud looks like. Except we do it in my office with pictures of afterbirth and uteruses. I’m just going to take a quick Polaroid and then finish sewing you up.”
Nope, that’s not at all weird. Doc, can you supersize that morphine for me?
“So, what does it look like?” I asked.
I don’t really want to know the answer to this do I? The drugs say yes but the brain says no.
“It actually looks like a face. And it’s smiling at us.”
OH MY GOD, SISSY! I’m coming for you sissy!
“HOLY SHIT!”
Epilogue
“I think this will be the first bubble bath I’ve taken alone in three years,” I tell Carter as he sets a glass of wine on the edge of the tub and bends down for a kiss.
I wrap a wet hand around the back of his neck and hold his face to mine. He sweeps his tongue through my mouth and I taste the wine he had taken a sip of before he gave the glass to me. Even after all these years I can never get enough of kissing this man. It's our third wedding anniversary and a few months after Sophie’s third birthday. For the past three years, we've spent our anniversary the same way – at home with the kids. And I wouldn’t have it any other way. We don’t need a fancy restaurant or a night out with friends. We have all we need right here.
Our wedding had been just a simple ceremony on the beach with our family and friends. After all the drama about getting engaged, both of us realized we didn’t care about anything but becoming husband and wife. It didn’t matter where it happened, just as long as it did happen. For an early wedding gift that year, Carter had given me all four seasons of “My Fair Wedding” and a box of p**n . He still holds out hope my p**n addiction would become a reality.
Carter slides his hand down into the water and lets it rest on the inside of my thigh. As the kiss became more intense, his hand inches further and further down. I groan into his kiss as his fingers graze between my legs and make goose bumps break out on my skin.
“Happy anniversary, Mrs. Ellis,” Carter whispers.
The wet, smoothness of his fingers slide through my slit and I thrust against his hand as he slowly pushes one finger deep inside me.
A commotion from outside the bathroom door ceases all activity and we pause, my lips brushing against Carter’s and his hand resting between my legs.
“What was that?” I whisper.
“It’s nothing. The kids are in Gavin’s room playing. I gave them a piggy bank full of pennies to count,” Carter reassures me as he begins kissing his way down my damp neck and goes back to gliding his finger in and out of me.
“Ohhhhh f**k,” I moan, tilting my head back until it rests against the tile wall. “You should probably check on them. The penny thing worked when Gavin was four. I don’t think it’s going to work now. He’s almost nine, knows how to use the internet and is tall enough to reach the matches and lighter fluid in the laundry room.”
A crash and a yell sound down the hall and I sit up quickly, splashing water over the side of the tub, forcing Carter to fall back onto the floor on his ass.
“Shit. I’ll go check it out,” he says with a sigh as he stands up and opens the bathroom door. “We’ll continue this after I’ve duct taped them to the wall.”
He closes the door behind him and I lean back into the warm, soapy water with a smile on my face.