Text Size Large SizeMedium SizeSmall Size    Color Scheme Black SchemeWhite SchemeGrey SchemePaper Scheme        


Bella and Edward had a beautiful wedding and very passionate honeymoon. Now, it seems, they are paying for all their happiness. Bella is pregnant with Edwards child but he doesn't want it. This is Bella's POV of her pregnancy. We know what Jacob saw but what did we miss behind Bella and Edward's closed door? Rated adult for later chapters.

Hello all you wonderful readers. As the summery says, this is the pregnancy from BPOV. Some of it is sad, some is a little kinky, but mostly, it's revealing. I usually don't post unless I have the entire story mapped out but this time, I'm posting as I write. Hopefully you like it. Also, please review and help with ideas. Finally, I do not own the Saga or it's characters, those honours belong to SM.

11. Chapter 11

Rating 3.6/5   Word Count 2886   Review this Chapter

And wait I did, for a total of 17 minutes before I was leaning into the bucket that Rose was holding for me. Edward was immediately hovering over me, holding my hair back with one hand and rubbing soft circles on my back with the other. The more time I spent emptying my stomach into Carlisle’s garbage bin, the sicker I became. A burning sensation slowly rippled up my stomach to my throat with each heave, causing me to cry out a little bit as tears began to trail down my cheek. I was sick a total of four times before I was finally empty and able to crash back onto the couch, wiping my sweaty forehead and the tears from my eyes.

“It’s ok Bella, just breath love,” Edward whispered to me as Carlisle passed him a wet cloth which he used to wipe my mouth before handing it back to Carlisle and asking for another for my forehead. I just laid there on Carlisle’s couch with Edward lightly pressing the cold, damp cloth to my lips, cheeks, neck and forehead, while Rosalie sulked off with a disgusted look on her face to empty the now defiled garbage bin.

My “morning sickness”, despite what the name says, was clearly not only in the morning. I was sick almost every half an hour, and would throw up everything that Carlisle and Edward tried to put into my system.

“Please Bella, just have a small bite,” Edward pleaded as he passed me a piece of plain toast. I knew that it was a bad idea and that I would regret it in about 5 minutes time, but I took a bite to appease everyone in the room. And I was right, the bite of toast and the three spoonfuls of Esme’s soup they had pushed upon me after the toast, came back up within the half hour mark. I couldn’t eat anything and I could feel myself getting weaker. After each ‘purging episode’, my mind would be dizzy for a couple of minutes while Edward resumed trying to cool me down with the cloth. It was getting harder and harder to even roll over to the bucket, eventually having to rely on either Rosalie or Edward to prop me sideways over the edge of the couch.

After three hours and seven rounds of “Bella and the bucket”, it was clear that panic had begun to set in everyone. Edward would resume his defeated position on the floor beside the couch after each time he would cool and calm me down with the damp cloth. Each time he sunk into the floor, he sank deeper and deeper into his tortured state and pressed his face tighter into his arms. He never removed his hand from mine, and I was starting to think that it was to reassure himself that I was still alive, instead of to soothe either of us.

Rosalie was surprisingly comforting, sporadically running her right hand over my hair, removing stray pieces from my forehead and getting me glasses of water when she would return with a cleaned out garbage bin. And although the water was cooling on my burning throat, even that I was unable to keep down. I was surprised with this new caring side of Rose, but was often reminded of her worry and anger as I would catch her glaring at Edward, or see a slight panicked look on her face as she held the bucket for me.

Carlisle, however, was the one that held most of my attention. There was no doubting that the wheels in his head were constantly turning as he relentlessly paced his office, randomly flashing to his bookshelf to check one of the ancient medical journals it held, only to let out a sigh of defeat and place the book back in its place. Every so often, he would stop and check or change the IV bag, give me a tender smile and ask if I was feeling any better, before continuing on his search for some answer.

The tension in the office was stifling, and it only made me hope that Jasper was out of the house so that he wouldn’t have to face the worry, panic and torture that was radiating throughout the room. And as strong as I believed that I was, in truth, everyone’s emotions and fears were starting to make me anxious. This room no longer held any sign of comfort or safety. It now smelt like bile and I was beginning to feel like I was going to be stuck on this couch until the baby came. I felt like I was suffocating and the panic that was all around me was crushing me. I needed out, out of this room, off this couch, away from the garbage pail that would now always make me nauseous. My anxiety was increasing which, in turn, was bringing on another wave of sickness. Desperate to hold it back, I took a slow deep break and squeezed Edward’s hand.

“Edward,” I started, my desperation to get out seeping through my voice, “I can’t do this anymore.” He snapped his head up to look at me with hope in his eyes as tears were tumbling down my cheek. “I need out of this room!”

All three vampires released a breath I didn’t know any of them were holding. Two were sighs of defeat and one was a sigh of relief. Clearly everyone though that I was saying that I couldn’t do the pregnancy anymore.

“Bella,” Carlisle began, “would you feel more comfortable in your room?” I simply nodded my head as Edward’s eyes looked at his father for permission. I knew that this room was pulling Edward further and further away from me. We needed to be together, as hard as it would be. This beautiful, black, comfortable leather couch was doing nothing but forcing us apart.

“Ok,” Carlisle began, “let me just unhook the IV. It’s clearly not helping any.” With a shake of his head and a look of disappointment etched on his face, Carlisle made his way to my side to remove the tube from my arm. He began to walk back to his desk when I noticed that he left the needle in my skin.

“Um, Carlisle?” I asked, my eyes desperately trying to avoid the metal sticking out of my forearm, “the needle?”

“I think that it’s best if we leave it in, just in case we need to attach an IV bag again later.” My breath hitched at Carlisle’s words. I did not want to sit around with a needle jutting out of my arm. Both Edward and Carlisle had sympathetic looks on their face as Carlisle continued. “Just let me get some medical tape and gauze and I’ll cover it up for you.”

After the offensive metal was covered and in no way at risk of getting caught on anything, Rosalie stood in front of me, holding out both hands for me. “Need help up?” she asked, as I placed my hands in hers and allowed her to help me up into first a sitting position, then after the pain in my ribs subsided and the roll of nausea dissipated a bit, she helped me fully to my wobbly feet. Rose looked at me with curiosity, but also, a slight look of pride. “Are you sure that you don’t want me to carry you to your room?” she asked me, still steadying me with her hands as she began to step away from me and lead me out of the room.

“No Rose, I’m ok. I’ve been sitting and laying for too long. I need to walk.”Once I was steady, Rose slowly let go of my hands and headed out the room, but I didn’t follow her. I turned around and waited. I would stand there and wait all day if I had to. I simply looked at the floor and extended my left hand out, waiting for the cold one I longed for to once again take mine. Edward was still looking at the ground, his face buried in his arms. I slowly leaned down, struggling to keep my balance, and took what I wanted, what I needed. I grabbed Edward’s right hand in my left and gave it a little tug. He slowly lifted his head to look me deep in the eyes. After what seemed like forever just staring at each other, Edward gave a slight nod of resignation and got to his feet.

Without a word, I entwined our fingers, raised his right hand to my lips and tenderly pressed a soft kiss onto the back of his hand before slowly pulling him out the door and into the hallway.

At this point, I felt completely ridiculous. I felt like I was wearing one of those sumo wrestler ‘fat suites’ as I made a slow wobble towards our bedroom. I just barely made it up onto the first step to the third floor when the nausea came back. I paused my step, held in a deep breath and squeezed my eyes shut in attempt to suppress whatever was trying to escape my stomach. I was not going to be sick on the floor of the Cullen house! Before I knew what was happening, I felt cold arms scoop me up and the rush of air fly past my face. Edward just barely made it to our bathroom before I was being held over our toilet and once again, succumbing to my sickness. My legs completely gave out and all my weight was being supported in Edward’s arms. In the seconds of reprieve between rounds, Edward managed to sit down in front of the toilet, legs crossed, and sat me in his lap. We sat that way for about ten minutes while I finished emptying my already vacant stomach before my body leaned back into Edward’s chest and my head lolled to Edward’s right shoulder. He supported me with his right arm as he reached with his left to close the toilet lid and flush it, removing the vile smell from in front of my face.

Rose was beside me once my eyes finally opened, holding a glass of water and another cold cloth for Edward. He took both graciously as he reached up to set the glass on the counter beside us and tended to cleaning me up and cooling me down.

“Here,” Edward finally said as he removed the cloth from my face and brought the glass to my lips. I smiles slightly when I noted the straw that was poking out of the top of the glass. My weak lips opened and Edward slipped the straw into my mouth. I gently took a couple of drinks of water as Edward affectionately removed random strays of hair that were stuck to my face. But as soon as I felt the water sliding down my throat, the bubbly feeling started in my stomach again. Clearly I wasn’t going to last long between rounds this time. I immediately moved my mouth away from the straw. As soon as I stopped drinking, but bubbling calmed.

Edward placed the glass back on the bathroom counter and tightened his grip on me. “Let’s get you to bed,” he said in a delicate voice. He started to lift me slowly as I furiously shook my head. “No,” I squeaked out in a pathetically weak voice, as I continued to shake my head, “don’t move me just yet. My stomach.”

Edward relaxed back into the floor, turning me sideways in his lap so that my legs were over his left thigh and the left side of my face was resting on his chest. I just sat there, attempting to just be, and not be sick all over my husband. In the security of Edward’s arms, I started to drift off to sleep. I could feel the warmth of a blanket being placed over me, stilling the shivers that I didn’t know my body was emanating. In the back of my mind, I could tell that I was being moved and I tried to shake my head against Edward’s chest and get a “not yet” out, but I was unsure if what my intentions were and what I actually did were the same. I was teetering on the verge of dreams when I felt cold lips on my forehead, kissing me softly and whispering “I love you” into my skin. Again, I didn’t know if this was real, or the beginning of my sleep, but I felt my lips turn up into a smile regardless.

For the first time since the island, I had the dream about the boy. He was sitting on top of the pile of bodies while I was standing on the ground, protectively in front of him, blocking the hoards of cloaked figure from getting to him. The dream carried out exactly the same way it had the numerous times I had had it before. And every time I had this dream, I became more and more convinced that this lone boy, this child sitting on top of the pile of bodies was my son, mine and Edward’s baby, and I would do whatever I could to protect it.

A sporadic bout of nausea woke me from my dream, catapulting me from Edward’s lap to the waiting toilet. Both Edward and Rosalie held me up, held back my hair, rubbed my back and just took care of me. I swore I heard low growls coming from Rose whenever Edward got particularly close or held me tightly. Luckily Edward just ignored her and held me tight as I was sick over and over again.

After my bought of sickness, I fell back into Edward’s waiting and comforting arms and drifted back to sleep, once again dreaming of my son. But without fail, as soon as I would attack the waiting cloaks in my dream, the queasiness would wake me up and send me searching for the toilet.

I ended up spending the rest of the day and the entire night in our bathroom, repeating the cycle over and over again. Dream, sickness, dream, sickness. I had refused to leave the bathroom. Edward had tried to convince me that I should just go to bed, that he would take care of me, but every time I moved, my stomach would wretch and I would be sick. And the sickness progressively got worse by the hour. One minute is was shivering and the next I had a fever and had beads of sweat on my forehead. When I was sick, I was so weak that he would literally have to hold me up over the edge of the toilet bowl. I ended up lying on the cold floor with Edward rubbing soft circles on my back. He eventually made me a little “bed” right beside the toilet, cushioning my head with pillows and surrounding me with blankets, doing everything in his power to make my pain go away.

Rosalie was always nearby, prepared to take over whenever things got too hard for Edward. He always did what he could but sometimes I could see his heart break in his eyes and I would kick him to the other side of the bathroom and push him away so that he wouldn’t have to suffer. At times, he couldn’t even look at me. I didn’t hold it against him though when he needed to get away. He never left the bathroom, but he would allow Rosalie to take over and would simply sit or stand away from me, his head hung low, eyes closed and a look of torture corrupting his face. To him, I was slowly dying and in turn, so was he.

As the hours passed, Rosalie became a little territorial, growling at Edward whenever he would return to my side. If I had the strength, I would have yelled at her and pushed her away. As it was, I couldn’t even roll my eyes in her direction. This was going to be a very long pregnancy if Rose was going to keep this up. I was starting to feel like neither I, nor my family in general, would ever really be ‘normal’ again. I don’t remember the last time I truly smiled, or laughed, or didn’t have to worry about how I was hurting Edward, or Carlisle, or Esme, or Alice. I didn’t remember the last time I had fun and was carefree. Everything, the nerves for the wedding, the pressure and stress and tension of the honeymoon and now the pregnancy seemed to be one big ball of pain.

I missed it. I missed being happy, and not worrying about me hurting others. I missed just laying in the meadow with Edward, soaking up the sun and laughing away at the stupid things either Jessica or Emmett had said or done that day. I missed making dinner for Charlie and even having awkward conversations with him. I missed walking on the beach with Jacob…Jacob. I think I missed him the most. I missed my best friend, my sun, my wolf. But after what happened at the wedding, I doubted I would see my best friend again.