AN: She's back! I'm on holidays so updating is sporadic, but I'll do my best!
A big huge thanks to all my reviewers. Please, if you see anything that can be improved in my writing let me know. This has become a wonderful obsession and I'm thrilled you're along for the ride.
Jordan knelt over the toilet, feeling totally wretched. There's something humiliating about vomiting, along with the unpleasant nausea and discomfort.
She shook her way to the faucet and poured herself a glass of water.
"Brrrrrrrrrrrup!"
"Hey, Liz. How come you didn't get morning sickness?"
Liz regarded her pet with disdain. She couldn't figure out what all this fuss was about. Fur balls happen, she thought. Get over it.
"At least I don't have Woody in my face this time." Jordan sometimes wanted to throw him out. She was perfectly capable of handling a little nausea, and she didn't need him going mother-hen.
She splashed water on her face and wove her way back to bed. She spoke to the empty apartment, "Just a few more minutes, Garret." Then she fell into her covers once again.
He'd been patient, believing she had a stomach virus all week. She'd have to tell him sooner or later, but that would wait until she could get through a whole ten minutes on her feet without retching. She'd hoped to be back at work by now but it was beginning to look like another day trying to keep down a few crackers and some juice.
As Lizzie started to curl up on her back, Jordan asked her, "Why the hell do they call this morning sickness? It's 24/7 sickness. Oh, Liz, right there feels good, now don't move…"
The two of them drifted off to sleep.
Meanwhile, in the closet, six pairs of eyes were just starting to pop open and wonder what fun would be found today, besides their siblings' tails and ears.
A few hours later, Jordan woke up with a pile of little fuzz balls snuggled into her back. Mama fuzz ball was curled up next to her 'pet', content with the world. In the doorway, Woody smiled at his family. Beautiful pregnant wife, six eight-week-old kittens and a mother cat. He silently opened his cell phone and aimed the camera…
"Drop the camera or die." Jordan's voice was powerful, even when she was sick.
"Aw, Jordan, you guys look so great. This'll be a great one for the baby's scrapbook…"
"Too bad the kid would grow up without a father…"
"Yeah… " The phone snapped shut. "So what have you eaten? Did you keep anything down?"
"Nothing, and no. And yes, you can get me some toast. No tea, but a little apple juice might work."
Woody fretted. "You can't grow a baby without fuel."
She groaned. "Toast. Now."
He got the toast and juice, set it on a little tray with a single daisy.
Jordan felt the bed shift as he sat beside her, and she forced herself to sit up. "Who thought this pregnancy thing was a good idea? 'Cause so far it's not so fun."
Woody looked at her with sincere pity. He would gladly take this on himself for her, but short of that he'd make sure she had everything she needed, everything she wanted. Everything.
He said, "The doctor told you it'll pass. You've got to get through this stage. Hey, is there anything I can pick up on my way home? Soup? Ginger Ale?"
"No, aside from a really strong anti-nauseant that I can't have anyway, there's nothing I want." She firmly took his hand. "Stop fussing! Can't you see it drives me crazy?" Her frustration was mounting, and she couldn't seem to communicate that to him.
He deflated. He was just trying to do the right thing by his wife and child. Why should that drive her crazy? He saw what negligent and abusive men had done to their families. He'd even seen women abuse their loved ones. His family was going to be cared for, damn it.
"Let me take care of you for once. After all, it's not just you anymore, we have to think about him, too." Woody kissed her abdomen gently.
Whereupon Jordan leapt from the bed to regurgitate her toast into the toilet.
Woody was close behind, holding her hair, mopping her brow with a cool cloth. He was there when she started to shake. He caught her when she collapsed…