Everyone had been very worried about Don. He was just far more pregnant than he had any right to be. April decided to run an ultrasound on him to ensure that he and the babies were okay. She rolled the machine into his room so that he didn't have to get out of bed, then helped Don move from his side to his back. While the ultrasound was powering up, she helped Don take off his sweatshirt.
April was very careful when she spread out the gel. Don's poor plastron was covered in bruises from the babies' powerful kicks. At this point, its natural gold color was almost completely obscured by black and blue. His belly was popping out so far from his body, and it was moving beneath her hands as the babies jostled around. No wonder Don was having problems with his balance.
Don looked down at himself with dismay. "Ug. I feel like the most pregnant thing on the face of the planet," he whined.
"Chin up, Donnie. Elephants carry their babies for close to two years," April preached.
"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" he asked. "That sounds horrible. The poor things."
Once April had everything ready, Michelangelo joined them. He was excited to see the babies and clasped a hand over Don's tense shoulder.
The babies all looked good. April spent some time on each of them, watching for movement and ensuring that they were taking practice breaths and swallows. Don's tired eyes were alight with love as he watched them.
"They look so smooshed!" Michelangelo observed. The baby they were currently watching had its face smashed into its sibling's shell, and the third baby's foot in its own face.
"I just don't think my body can stretch out any more than it already has," Don mourned. "Sorry little guys."
"It's like this for all full-term babies towards the end," April said. "Besides, they're still able to move around. You don't need to feel bad."
The three watched the babies for a while longer, and April checked to make sure that the placentas and umbilical cords looked okay. She also ensured that Don's internal organs weren't at threat of damage. As much as he felt ready to split open like an overripe banana, it didn't appear to be imminent. His cracked rib was hanging on too. It was no better, no worse.
April asked Michelangelo to leave the room, then she and Donatello worked on the plan for his surgery. The plan had been made long ago but needed frequent updating as Don's body changed. They didn't want Michelangelo to have to think about his brother being sliced open.
Donatello had suggested, and April agreed, that they go into through the middle of his abdomen rather than the bottom. Although it was atypical for a c-section, it just made the most sense for him. His plastron was thinner near where his abdominal and lower scutes met. Perhaps, more importantly, April wouldn't have to worry about staying clear of his "male equipment." This experience had been demasculinizing enough. He didn't want to end up neutered.
April ran a hand over Don as she visualized where his internal organs were situated and walked through the surgery in her mind. For the most part, they were both quiet, but April did ask an occasional question, which Don answered. He waited patiently, even though it hurt like shell to lie on his back for so long.
When April was finished, she helped Don up and he plodded off to the bathroom. She was pretty worried about her friend. While it was true that his plastron seemed to be done stretching, Don was still rapidly putting on weight. He was obviously retaining water, and the lab results proved that his organs were under strain. Don had about a week of hormone vials left. April didn't know if his body was capable of holding out that long. She was prepared to do this surgery at any time, under force if necessary.
Donatello slept for an hour after the ultrasound was complete. Now he was laying on his side, atop the bed, surrounded by a nest of pillows and blankets. He hadn't bothered putting a shirt back on, as he wanted to expose as much of himself to the heat lamp as possible.
The last thing in the world that he wanted to do was move. He wasn't even sure that he could move. For the past week or so, he had felt so hopelessly weighed down. Everyone had been doting on him, keeping him company, rubbing his shell and belly, and bringing him food.
But, nature called again. As much as he didn't want to, it meant that he had to get up. He took his time getting to his feet, knowing he would regret it if he tried to rush. Then, he struggled back into his discarded sweatshirt, not wanting Mikey to be repulsed by the sight of him.
Michelangelo could hear Don coming. Normally, each of the brothers moved silently. It was second nature after a lifetime of ninja training. In this late stage, that ship had sailed. Now Don either shuffled or clomped heavily everywhere he went.
Michelangelo poked his head out of the kitchen. "You okay, bro? Anything you need?"
"Just heading to the little turtle's room."
Michelangelo frowned. Don's trips to the bathroom had become an hourly thing. "Need any help?"
"Great Scott, I certainly hope not," Don smiled.
Michelangelo resisted the urge to hover near the bathroom door, but as soon as he heard that Don was done, he shot across the room like a trained monkey. "You heading back to your nest? Let me help you."
Don was about to argue, but then he realized that he actually could use help. It wasn't that he couldn't walk under his own power per se, it was more that he didn't particularly want to when better options were available. It's too bad that he never had time to finish that teleporter.
Mikey hooked an arm around his brother and helped him slowly waddle back to bed. Don groaned as he settled down again and angled his aching shell towards the heat lamp.
"How ya feeling, Don?" Michelangelo checked.
Don just groaned again in response.
"That good, huh?"
"Yeah," Don sighed. "That good. How are you?"
"Me?" Mikey chuckled. "I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be?"
"I don't know. Just making conversation," Don muttered.
"So don't get mad at me for asking this, but I was wondering, do you think that the babies will be here soon?"
Don grimaced and brought a hand to his impossibly swollen plastron. He had gone further in this pregnancy than he thought that he ever thought he would, or even could. It had been hard for him to calculate a due date, given all the variables involved, but he had gone days past even his most conservative projections. At this point, it was really looking like he needed to get to the end of his hormone treatment and hope for the best. Even then, he was beginning to wonder if his body was even capable of going into labor, but all of his contractions and false starts seemed to indicate that it was.
"Well...I certainly hope so. I don't know how much more of this I can take," Don fretted.
"I know, buddy. You've been ready to pop for a long time now," Michelangelo sympathized. "But, I meant like, medically or whatever. Has anything changed recently? Was there anything different on the ultrasound?"
Don considered that for a moment. He felt crappier than usual, but that was about it. "I don't know. Every day is another day closer and all, but nothing specific has changed, as far as I know. The ultrasound looked the same as the last one. Why?"
"I don't know, Don. I'm just worried about you. You don't seem to be doing too hot."
Don pinched between his eyes. "I'm fine, Mikey. I'll be fine. Don't worry, okay?"
"Kind of hard not to worry when you can barely get out of bed!" Mikey half-joked.
"I did get out of bed. Just now. You saw it!" Don defended. "And, I'll do it again if it will make you happy!"
"No no no no no. You just keep it parked right there," Michelangelo insisted.
"Fine, but why don't you park it here too and keep me company?" Don requested. "Maybe hanging out for a while and seeing that I'm not dying will make you feel better."
Michelangelo rolled his eyes. "Yeah, because you're so lively and energetic right now. It's so inspiring."
Don snickered. "You try gaining sixty pounds all in your belly and tell me how energetic you feel."
Michelangelo's eyes widened. "Wow! Is it really sixty pounds?"
"Fraid so, brother," Don confirmed.
"Looks like more," Mikey teased as he pet Don's middle.
"Shut up." Don smiled, swatting Mikey's hand away.
Michelangelo reclined in the warmth of the heat lamp next to Donatello. "Seriously, though, I feel like they're coming soon. Call it intuition."
"Don't get my hopes up," Donatello groaned.
"Is that why you don't want to admit it might be soon? Don't want to get your hopes up and then get let down?"
"Meh," Don shrugged. "Maybe. Honestly, stress isn't good for me, and since everything seems to be stressing me out, I'm just trying not to think at all."
Michelangelo laughed. "That's so non-Don."
"Well, you gotta do what you gotta do," Don said with resignation.
Michelangelo nodded. "Now that sounds more Don-ish."
"Yup, still me," Don confirmed. "There is something, though. What you said about intuition."
"What about it?"
Don paused before answering. "It might sound silly, but lately it feels like there are real people inside me."
"There are, duh. Well, inasmuch as turtles are people, anyway," Michelangelo mused.
"I know, and it's difficult to describe." Don closed his eyes. "They've always been very real and alive to me, but lately they feel like real people."
"Okaaaay," Michelangelo drawled. "Not really getting it."
"Alright. Well, you know how Dad and Leo and Raph and the two of us have always been connected spiritually?"
Michelangelo motioned with his hands. "Go on."
"The past week or so, it's almost as though I'm feeling that type of connection with them," Don told his brother.
"You're literally connected. Like with umbilical cords and placentas and stuff," Michelangelo observed.
"I know." Don chuckled. "But lately, it's as though I can feel what they're feeling."
"Squished?" Michelangelo joked.
"No. Just… I feel them there." Don shrugged. "I guess I can't put it into words."
"Do you mean like when you know someone is watching you, but you can't see them?" Michelangelo wondered.
"Yes!" Don gasped. "Or like how we always knew where the others were in battle!"
"Well, you know where they are - crammed way too tightly into your belly."
"That's true. But I'm feeling them more than ever before, and it makes me think that maybe they're almost ready to come out," Don remarked hopefully.