Summary: It seems that after four years of marriage, Gabriella Montez has still yet to share with her husband her fear of childbirth. Although during these next nine months, he's sure to figure it out.

-----

Inevitably Lovable

-----

"Would you look at that?" Troy asks with an incredulous tone, after nudging me roughly with his elbow. I follow his line of vision and sigh. He can tsk and frown disapprovingly all he wants, but from a twenty yard distance, it's not going to do anything.

"I swear, that man has probably never seen a parenting book in his life," he continues, "and isn't it just common sense to not fling your child up in the air? All parents should know that." We sit at our picnic table at a park filled with dozens of families, staring at a seven foot man throwing his giggling toddler up into the heavens. The kid only remains safe, supported by his big hands, for about two seconds before being airborne again.

I pick at the food we brought for our lunch, which for some reason tastes kind of odd today, and tell him, "We should be minding our own business, Troy. People came here to enjoy a beautiful day at the park, not to be gaped at."

While my sandwich remains mostly untouched, Troy swallows his in four massive bites. I swear that man will never stop loving peanut butter and jelly. Between mouthfuls, he says, "Wouldn't you feel responsible if that poor child got a concussion, knowing that we could have done something to prevent it? You know, if I had a kid, I'd show that man over there how to be a proper dad."

There he goes again. If I had a kid. That sentence has been creeping up on me in all our conversations these days. It makes me nervous and jittery every time I hear it because I'm scared Troy will one day directly ask to have a baby and how will I say no then without sounding like a freak?

We sit in silence some more. Then he says, "Doesn't it feel kind of awkward, Gabi?"

"What does?"

"Being here alone—not that I don't love being together—but this park seems like a perfect place to bring your family to and there are kids running around everywhere."

My nonchalant demeanor is slowly disappearing and I'm about to turn into a human water fountain, sweating buckets while dreading the inevitable question. "Why don't we have a child?" Or the demand. "We're having a child, Gabi. End of discussion."

"No, not really." I shrug.

He nods in false agreement.

I can tell it's been bugging him lately. The whole 'being married for four years and still no mini Troys and Gabriellas running around' thing. Like just last week when he was cleaning out our basement and found his old basketball and said: "My dad gave this to me and I hope to pass it on someday, too." or a few nights ago when he was a bit hesitant about the condom.

I've been a sort of apprehensive about sex since then, fearing for the worst.

But it's not that I hate kids. Some people make them out to be the most amazing things in the world, and I partially agree with them. I'm a teacher for goodness sake. I devote my life to teaching kids.

See that boy over there? The one yanking his mother's hair out, screeching for her to climb up the thirty foot tree to retrieve his kite?

Totally adorable. Pure sweetness.

Why, do you ask, that I fear something I've never experienced before? Maybe it's because the pain of childbirth was the reason I'm an only child. Maybe it's because a fellow teacher's hand was in a cast for weeks, thanks to his wife, following the birth of his child. Or maybe it's because of all those risks I hear about. I mean, 'caesarean section' seems like such a scary concept, and have you seen how big Kate's belly in Jon & Kate Plus 8 was?

I've seen mothers after giving birth practically glowing in their hospital beds, not minding that they're all sticky and gross. But perhaps since we're so focused on that little bundle of joy in her arms, we miss that the whimsical look is actually one of deliriousness.

If childbirth isn't that excruciatingly terrible then why do so many women threaten to castrate their husbands, in a non-joking manner, during it? I love Troy and I would never think of hurting him. If giving birth to a child could make me threaten him like that, then it must be unbearably painful in an I'd-rather-die-than-go-through-this way.

A slight pressure in my lower abdomen erases all my thoughts. I inquire, "Troy, are we almost done here? Let's go home because I really need to use a bathroom and porta-potties are disgusting."

"Sure, let's go. Is it, uh, your time of the month again because you've already been twice this morning." He starts to gather our things.

Apparently, my frequent visits to the bathroom were noticed by him too. "No, I just—" I pause, remembering that my period was last week. Scratch that, my period was supposed to be last week.

But it wasn't.

There's nothing wrong with me, is there? If I miss it, that doesn't exactly mean I'm—

Pfft. No, I'm not. That idea was too funny; I amuse myself sometimes.

"Um, Gab? Why are you laughing?"

I'm laughing? Oh, of course I'm laughing. The thought that entered my mind was just so preposterous and senseless that it was humorous.

I can't possibly be—

But what if I am?

No, don't think like that, Gabriella, I tell myself. Think of happy rainbows and flowers and maybe throw in a couple of birds into that nice mental image. Like those white ones I like with the mile-long beaks and legs. What are they called? Storks, maybe? They're often pictured carrying something in their beaks—something like—

Oh shit.

But what if I am?

-----

AN: Yes, this is another story co-written between Andryya and I!