With the painting done, Donatello spent the next few weeks focusing on baby stuff. He reconfigured his bed to a standard king-size, then finished building all three cribs and arranged them in his room. With his smaller bed, there was still plenty of space for a large dresser. He sanded and painted wood stain onto everything.
Knowing that his kids would spend their formative years cooped up in this small space, he tried to add as many artful touches as possible. Each crib had carved scenes from nature on their headboards, and he painted an intricate turtle pond surrounded by trees on the dresser. He worked extra hours at his IT job to purchase soft goods, material to make customized cloth diapers, and baby food ingredients. A changing table was set out in the living room and would be his next project.
Donatello woke up one morning to find that he was gagging on stomach acid. This was an increasingly frequent occurrence. If he slept lying down, his acid reflux was nearly unbearable. If he slept sitting up in a chair, it was hell on his back. He pounded on his chest and fought down the acid. Once that crisis was averted, he realized that he was also desperately needing the bathroom. Getting up was such an ordeal. He grunted and groaned as his back popped and legs cramped. When he finally gained his footing, it was nearing an emergency. He hustled to the bathroom, did his business, then puked his brains out.
"Off to a great start today," he mumbled. He tried to eat breakfast, but it didn't want to stay down. Instead, he made a smoothie, hoping that he'd have better luck with liquids.
He moved onto exercises, but only lasted a half-hour. His belly was getting too big to do even the simple stuff. He was off-balance during yoga and didn't want to risk a fall. He took a shower and called Valeria, which raised his spirits. He still hadn't told her how he felt about her, but he had started calling more, and he tried to drop hints in his own awkward way. She didn't seem to notice, just as Don didn't notice that she was doing the exact same thing to him.
After lunch, Don sanded the changing table. The babies weren't enjoying the vigorous movement required to get that job done. "Get out of my ribs," he ordered the feisty one on the left side. When the only response was a hard kick that made him cry out in pain, he waddled to the sofa and sat down. "You better watch yourself or I'm going to give you a name you'll hate, like Egbert, or Dorcas," he warned.
Don pressed his plastron, and the baby moved, but the squirming around in his stomach was worsening his reflux and making him nauseous. "Seriously, I can't take this today," he groused. He painfully took to his feet and lost his lunch. All of the heaving forced the baby back into his aching ribs again. Don could've cried. On the way back to the sofa, he grabbed a chair from the kitchen table. He sat on the edge of his sofa and leaned the top of his body against the back of the chair. He successfully managed to massage the baby out of his ribs once more.
Finally, he sat back and sighed. "Sorry if I'm in a bad mood. It's really not your fault. You guys are just getting so big," he said to his stomach. "But, that's good. It's your only job right now." Don ran a hand down his face. "And, you're doing it well."
When April and Casey came over that night, Don's rib was aching even worse. They decided to run an ultrasound. Sure enough, there was a crack in the lower rib on his left side. Don wasn't surprised. He was just happy that it wasn't a complete break. He and April both knew that there was nothing he could do other than rest it.
As usual, they checked on the babies too. "They really are getting big," April marveled. "No wonder your poor ribs are starting to give out."
"I know," Don groaned. "I'm afraid that my back won't be too far behind them."
"We could consider doing your surgery soon," April offered. "Getting triplets into the eighth month is pretty impressive, and they seem big and strong enough."
"No, it's okay," Don insisted. "I'm just being a baby. We'll keep an eye on the rib."
"Sounds good," April replied. "Just remember that the surgery is a possibility at any time now."
"I want to carry them for as long as possible, give them the best shot at survival." Don cleaned himself off as April put away the machine.
April helped her friend up, being careful of his tender side. "I know that you want to avoid surgery if you can. Even with the babies getting bigger, it does still look like they could still squeeze through when the time comes."
"I hope so," Don replied. "This process is wearing me down enough as it is. Recovering from surgery would be awfully difficult, especially with triplets to take care of on top of everything else. Avoiding surgery would be easier on you too."
"I'm certainly not looking forward to cutting into you," April agreed. "But I don't want you to suffer unnecessarily either. I'm definitely more worried about you than the babies at this point."
"I'll be okay," Don comforted her. "I'm just feeling a little whiny today, but I'm still muddling through. The rib is nothing critical. It'll heal up in time."
"Have you still been having periodic contractions?" April asked.
"Yes. I think that's good, though. For a while, I'd been worried that I wouldn't be able to go into labor, but I think that they prove that I can. And, if they get too intense, I just take it as a sign to relax for a while."
"Have they been getting stronger?" April followed up.
"Don't know," Don answered. "They certainly hurt my back more, but that could just be because of its ongoing deterioration."
The damaged rib meant that Don had to sit a lot more. He hated lounging around and doing nothing. He never had been good at relaxing, but at this point, his belly was so big that he couldn't even use the computer properly. It simply didn't fit on his lap anymore. When he got really desperate, he could set it on the kitchen table, but leaning over it for more than a half an hour or so was too much strain on his ribs and back.
Valeria knew his limitations, so she dealt with most of the remaining Triceraton issues on her own. Bishop had identified a few more groups that were similar to Hun's. He'd promised that they would suffer severely for their crimes against humanity, but for now, he was just biding his time. He had also ferreted out the mole on his team, who had tipped the Triceraton sympathizers off about Valeria's operation in New York. The guilty party had mysteriously disappeared. Everyone at Area 51 was afraid to talk about it.
One bright spot was the launch of the first Earth Defense System component. Valeria had given Donatello a personal play-by-play. He'd been so proud, even though he hoped that it would never have to be used.
He was in a state of perpetual agony. His back was going out on a regular basis, and he sometimes needed help getting up and moving around. April and Casey had started working opposite shifts so that he didn't need to be alone so much. He felt terrible about putting his friends through that, but he agreed that he needed the help.
He really wanted the babies to come. He was so over being pregnant. He continued to refuse the surgery, but he prayed every morning that this would be the day that he went into labor. When he lay alone in bed at night, he begged the babies to cut him a break and make their appearance. Everything was just so hard right now. Even breathing was hard right now. His lungs barely had room to fully inflate.
More than anything, he missed his brothers. All his life, they had been there for him. He needed them so much now, but they were nowhere to be found.
April's sister, Robin, traveled to the City over Thanksgiving and spent the 4-day weekend at April and Casey's apartment. This left Casey to tend to a very pregnant Donatello all on his own since it was harder for April to sneak away unnoticed. It was a little awkward since Casey and Don weren't exactly close, and Casey was still pretty creeped out by Don's condition.
Casey might not be a genius, but even to him, it was painfully obvious that Donatello was depressed. Casey had brought down a huge platter of turkey with all the trimmings since April hated the idea of Don eating alone on a holiday. Despite his previously voracious appetite, Don only picked at it. After that, they sat and watched a football game, but Don's eyes glazed over and he barely said a word.
Casey scratched his shoulder uncomfortably. "So, I guess you're due any day, now, huh?"
"Huh?" Don shook the cobwebs out of his head. "Oh, uh yeah. Any time now."
"Not like, now, though, right?" Casey teased.
"No. Not now," Don answered. "But hopefully not too much longer. Feels like I'm falling apart."
"Oh jeez," Casey said out of the corner of his mouth. "Listen, I know that April is real good about rubbing your back and talking to ya and whatever. Maybe I ain't so good at that stuff but I'm here for ya. Ya know?"
Don lifted his head and looked at his friend. "I do know, Casey. And thanks for that. Not many people are." Don heaved a sigh and even smiled a little. "And for what it's worth, I don't particularly want you to rub my back."
Casey chuckled. "Good."
The two sat on slightly more companionable silence for a while. "It's okay if you want to go home," Don said. "I think you fulfilled your duty."
"My home ain't so great right now, with Robin there. She and April tend to get a little chatty."
Don looked at his hands. "Do you ever… think about visiting my brothers?"
"No," Casey fervently replied. "April and I picked our side. The way they're treating you ain't right."
"Why do I still miss them, then?" Don asked. He got a little choked up and clasped his midsection to comfort himself. "I wonder what they're doing right now. Do you think they all sat down to Thanksgiving dinner without me?"
At that, Casey did reach out and put a hand on his friend's shell. Surprised by the unexpected show of affection, Donnie made a strangled noise that Casey was pretty sure was a choked-down sob. Casey was brave enough to keep his hand where it was, but he couldn't help but roll his eyes and mutter, "Jeez, Donnie, you are absolutely killing me right now."
Donatello cleared his throat and produced a raspy chuckle. Bittersweet though life may be, he did have a lot to be thankful for. Casey Jones absolutely fell into that category. So, Don pushed his emotions aside, to thank his friend the best way he knew how. He turned up the volume on the TV. "Go Lions, right? Who doesn't love an underdog?"
"Right on, Donnie," Casey approved. "Go Lions."
One of Donnie's brothers shows up in the next chapter. Does anyone want to guess which one it is?