Two months later...
"Tiago."
"No... Lorenzo."
"No."
"Murilo."
"No... Ramón..."
"Not my father's name... let me see..."
"Pablo," Carlos says, touching my belly. He settles on our bed, looking at me. "It's a beautiful name."
"Pablo? Pablo is so common," I argue, looking at the book of names. "Besides, do you know what Pablo means? It means 'small' or 'of low stature.' I don't want my son to be a dwarf."
"Alright," Carlos says. "What do you suggest?"
"Carlos," I replied, looking at him. He smiles awkwardly; he's about to contradict me. "Besides being your name, I think the meaning is beautiful. It means 'man,' 'warrior,' or 'man of the people.' That's how I want my son to be."
"I accept... with one condition," Carlos says mysteriously.
"And what would that be?" I asked, suspiciously.
"If the first name is Juan. Then his name would be Juan Carlos... what do you think?"
"Let me see the meaning," I responded. "It means 'God is gracious,' 'graced by God,' or 'God's grace and mercy, and 'God forgives.'"
"So...?" Carlos asks, running his hand over my belly. He leans closer and whispers, "Come on, little guy, help Daddy out."
"Hahaha, what do you think our son is going to do to persuade me?" I asked, smiling.
"If he gives a kick, that's the name," Carlos says. "If he doesn't kick, we'll choose another."
"Alright," I agree. Both of us know that he has never kicked me before, and it won't happen now. I settle back in bed and say, "Juan Carlos."
My belly doesn't even move. I looked at Carlos and shrugged; it wouldn't be that name. Time to choose another.
"Juan Carlos," Carlos calls. Then I feel a stab... Juan Carlos's first kick.
We spend hours calling the name Juan, and he kicks promptly. It was one of the best days of our lives... But not everything is rosy. I reached five months of pregnancy and still couldn't stop the constant nausea, and I continued losing weight. I developed an allergy to gold and had to take off my wedding ring, became lactose intolerant, and sensitive to acids. To top it all off, I moved back in with my parents until Juan was born, only going home to collect my mail and pick up clothes. We made this decision because the hospital was very close to their house.
***
Three months later...
Eight months of pregnancy, I look in the mirror and all I see is my skinny image with a huge belly. At least the nausea has been under control, but I still live with my parents, and I haven't bought anything for my child yet. One of the reasons is that I'm staying at their house, and the other is that I'm not the type of person who finds out she's pregnant and immediately goes out to buy baby shoes. When it comes to shopping, I'm always practical. When I buy something, I know exactly what I want, and I don't like going to multiple stores. But now I feel that Juan is about to be born, and I need to buy his things.
"But there's still a month left," Valéria argues, lying in bed.
"Yes, but I think Juan will be born earlier," I explained. I touched my belly and said, "Mother's intuition."
"Alright, I'll go with you," my sister concedes. "But only because I don't want to get a sty."
We go to the mall, and I went straight to the baby store, where I bought everything: from clothes to a crib, a changing table, a bathtub, and a car seat. The only thing missing is the stroller, as my dream was to have a three-wheel one. As soon as we return, all I want to do is lie down on my bed and rest because my back is killing me.
After some time, Carlos comes into the room, super excited, and showers me with kisses, lying down next to me.
"So, how was the shopping?" he asks.
"Good, I just couldn't buy that darn three-wheel stroller," I say, annoyed. I really want that stroller.
"Hmmm... I have the solution to your problems," Carlos says, getting up. He goes to the bedroom door and opens it, bringing the three-wheel stroller inside. "Ta-da!"
"I can't believe it!" I exclaimed, getting up from bed. Carlos bought the stroller I wanted so badly. "How did you...?"
"I took the afternoon off today and went to get it for you," Carlos explains, smiling. "Am I not the best dad in the world?"
"I love you, my dear," I declared, hugging my husband. "And without a doubt, you are the best dad in the world."
Even if you might not be Juan's biological father...
***
One month later... or 40 weeks of pregnancy... or nine months of gestation.
Rúbia examines me carefully; I'm already 40 weeks pregnant, and there's still no sign of Juan Carlos being born, which worries me a lot. She finishes, and I go to change clothes, wondering what could be wrong.
"Well, everything seems to be within the normal range," the obstetrician explained. "Although this little boy should have been out here by now, having fun outside of mommy's belly. My suggestion is to wait another week, and if he doesn't come by then, we'll induce labor."
"Alright, but is Juan doing well?" I asked.
"Your son is perfect. You know, it's normal for a child not to come on the expected due date. There have been cases of children who were only born after twelve months of gestation."
"Wow, that's a long time," I said, worried. One year with Juan inside me is too much, no matter how much I love him. I can't carry him in my belly any longer.
"Don't worry, this little guy will definitely be born well before that," Rúbia says. "If you experience pain with a frequency of five minutes, go to the hospital immediately and ask them to notify me."
I scheduled the delivery and went home believing that the baby would be born next week. When I arrived home, I shared the news with everyone, and my husband decided not to take his vacation yet, since it would still be some time before the baby was born.
***
Two days later...
I woke up feeling good, tidied up my room, rearranged the hospital bag for the thousandth time, and helped my mother with the house -except for my huge belly. It didn't seem like I was pregnant at all. And at night, we sat - my father, my mother, and I -to watch TV while waiting for Carlos, which didn't take long. He arrived and went straight to take a shower, have dinner, and sleep.
We were watching a soap opera when I felt a stab in my belly. I noticed that I was in an uncomfortable position for Juan and adjusted myself. A few minutes later, another stab, and I remembered what Rúbia had said. I started timing my pains as if it were the most natural thing in the world, and they were coming every seven minutes.
"Mom," I said, getting up with some difficulty. "I'm going to take a shower because Juan seems like he'll be born today."
"What did you say?" my mother asked hysterically. She got up from the couch and asked, "Dália, since when have you been feeling pain? Oh my God! Ramón, get up, Dália is in labor. We have to go to the hospital immediately."
"Mom, calm down," I pleaded, holding her arms, trying to stay calm myself. "I still have plenty of time."
I went to my room, where Carlos was sound asleep, grabbed the hospital bag, and placed it by the door. Then I got into the bathtub filled with warm water. I ran my hand over my belly, trying to relax, enjoying my last moments with Juan...
"So, how are the pains now?" my mother asked, startling me.
"I still have time," I replied, with my eyes closed.
"And now, how are the pains?"
"They're the same as they were five minutes ago, Mom."
"Now, can we go?"
"Mom... please... GET OUT OF MY BATHROOM!"
I stepped out of the shower and timed the pain. Finally, they were coming every five minutes. I put on comfortable pajamas and looked at myself in the mirror for the last time with my big belly. I sat on the bed and shook Carlos, who took a while to wake up.
"Carlos, wake up, Juan is going to be born," I said. Carlos jumped out of bed in a panic, pacing back and forth. "What's wrong?"
"We need to hurry," he replied, nervously, rushing around the room like a headless chicken. "Where's the bag? The keys? Did you tell your parents? Did you pack your clothes? Where are my pants?"
"Carlos, my love, relax," I said, smiling at my husband's clumsy demeanor. "Everything is ready; just get dressed."
In a matter of minutes, we were leaving the house on our way to the maternity hospital. Carlos held onto my mother's arm and looked at me: We were heading toward our new adventure.