February starts much the same as January and December before but ends on an unexpectedly higher note.
Tina spends every day either ill, swooning, or in a purgatorial state. The potion's the witch-midwife left do nothing except make her feel loopy for the few minutes they remain in her, and eventually, they are banished to a side table and forgotten.
Newt maintains his patient vigil, and Tina reflects dully that what she had once thought was love must be the true thing. He has no reason to stay otherwise. He forms no outward attachment to her slowly expanding middle and certainly isn't getting anything physical from their relationship. She can't even kiss him and is unable to tolerate being close to him. Still, he suffers at her side, losing weight along with her, skipping meals to keep away the heavy smell of cooking, and rubbing oils into her skin and nails when they flake and peel and split.
Then comes the morning when she awakens and senses an immediate change. It takes only moments to place and brings entirely new fears. Tina feels distressingly well, and the change is so abrupt from her new normal that she bursts into tears.
Newt's there to console her but she cannot describe to him the breadth of her combined relief and terror. Her suffering is gone for now, but she doesn't know what this means for the health of the child she carries. Tina finds the curse of expectation a heavier burden than the suffering of the previous months, and she isn't sure she can handle this new weight.
Tina shoves her worries aside and requests a drink of water. He gives it to her and waits while she sips at it. Miraculously, the drink remains where she puts it, though her stomach does ache terribly afterward. She waits two hours, and then enjoys another, her tongue delightfully moist. She manages one more after that and has to call it quits—she feels languid and waterlogged in a way she can scarce recall from before.
Newt seems positively giddy by contrast, and he shares a true smile with her for the first time in weeks. It warms her to her toes, and when he tucks her into sleep, she is able to tolerate him kissing her forehead. She has to hold her breath but counts it as progress. Even the lingering masculine scent of him is starting to fade, and Tina is delighted to discover that what remains doesn't bother her overmuch.
This also warms her, and she falls asleep clutching the barest thread of hope.
March brings sun and clouds, snow and rain in equal measure, and for Tina, some small amount of peace.
She still has her bad moments; there are days where she wakes and knows instantly that eating and drinking will be impossible. There are also days where she can tolerate fluids and very small, light meals. Her Newt proves a capable cook of the basics, so porridge and dry toast become a staple. Better still, there are nights when she can return to the bed she shares with him, and with her nose tucked beneath the covers she can tolerate his earthy scent.
As the weather turn a corner, the good days start to outnumber the bad. Her strength returns quicker than she had ever imagined possible, and by the end of the month she's toddling around the apartment and doing very simple chores. She eats whenever the urge takes her, careful to avoid mixing food and beverage—her stomach still protests when she does—but otherwise drinking freely.
The cracks and peels in her skin heal; her nails stop splitting and grow prodigiously. Her cheeks remain sunken, but her skin loses its yellowish pall in favor of an almost preternatural glow.
Best of all, Tina's waist expands and widens and curves. Only she is aware of it because her clothes hang off her emaciated frame and do a good job of hiding her changing midsection. It gives her a secret thrill, whenever she changes her clothes or uses the toilet and she finds herself having to look past the thing growing inside her. Her hands often go to her stomach without thought, sometimes clasping protectively, sometimes rubbing soothingly.
One evening, Newt draws her a bath and helps her remove her pajamas. Tina settles into the water while he turns away to gather a washcloth and towel; when he turns back, his eyes drop to her abdomen, and his entire self freezes. Tina follows his gaze while holding her breath.
The swelling is obvious, the formerly flat plane of her stomach round with new life just beneath her naval, conspicuous against the stark angles of her body. The proud curve is smaller than it should be but there's no mistaking what it represents.
Her Newt moves like a man in a dream when his hand drifts out and settles over the bump, cupping it protectively. His eyes, when they find hers, are impossibly proud and impossibly gentle. And he's smiling at her as though she is precious beyond measure.
Newt washes her, dries her, settles her into bed. Tina feels well enough to allow him close and he curls around her despite the early hour, hands drifting to her midsection.
He falls asleep like that, cradling them close, and Tina finds it within her to begin the process of forgiving him.
April comes with lashing rains and the scent of flowers, while changes occur in Tina that she isn't sure she's prepared to handle.
Each critical look in the mirror frightens her deeply; she is still almost skeletally thin, despite every effort to eat, and her face remains hollow. She worries about the health of her child, though she does her best and Newt ensures she has only the freshest, most nutritious food available. Still, it doesn't feel like it's enough, and for the first time in her adult life, Tina bemoans her metabolism.
Despite her jutting hip bones and the stack of her ribs, her midsection continues to swell proudly with their pup. Her hair and nails flourish, and her skin glows. Newt calls her beautiful one day, in an off-hand manner, and Tina chokes and looks away. The compliment hurts and inspires in equal measure.
She doesn't dwell overlong on the confused tangle of her feelings because her emotions are ever-changing and volatile. Something that could make her laugh one day, is just as likely to cast her into fitful sobbing the next. Her Newt weathers this storm as well as he has all others—a constant, slightly-fumbling, always nervous rock. She can see the effect it's all having on him, however. The dark circles around his eyes, the sharpness of his jaw...he's exhausted and wrung out from propping her up, not just physically but emotionally, and Tina still isn't quite strong enough to stand on her own.
Very early one morning, Tina is jolted from restless sleep by a series of jolts against her side. She sighs heavily and prepares to abrade Newt for interrupting her rest when the strange fluttery taps come again. Tina instantly realizes two things: that Newt is snoring blissfully, still deeply asleep; and that those fluttery blows came from within. Another volley and Tina draws a quick breath, bottom lip slipping between her teeth.
Newt stirs at the sound and comes awake. When he casts a light to ascertain that she's okay, she takes his hand and presses it against the bump their child creates. Then she waits, holding her breath.
Another tap, lighter than the others, almost cautious. A greeting, if she were of a more poetic mindset. Newt feels it too, for he starts, blinks and then beams at her, eyes dancing. His hand remains on her belly until the child settles. Then Newt tucks her close, his chin resting on the top of her head, and hums contentedly as dawn breaks outside their window.