My baby daddy (baby daddy series #1) {COMPLETED}

CHAPTER ONE | TELLING MY TRUTH

“I want to start by wishing you welcome here.”

“Thank you.”

“Maybe we should start by talking about the issues that you have, based on your background and experiences. Now you have to guide me; why have you come here today?”

“Oh, doc. I have no idea where to start...”

“Take it from the beginning. I’m not going to judge you in any way.”

    I begin to tell her about the hell on earth that I myself have inflicted.

❄FLASHBACK❄

   I was 17 years old and had just started my senior year. In my younger years, I was always a slim and distasteful girl that everyone avoided. Why? I have no idea. When you get exposed to that kind of bullying so early in life, it shapes you in a way that you can’t even imagine. 

  My bullies reminded me daily about how fat I was and that nothing I did was acceptable. I wasn’t good enough. Over time, I began to hate myself and everything that I was. From the bottom of my heart, I can say with a clear conscience that the bullying I had to endure at school didn’t even come close to the bullying I inflicted on myself.  

  It even went so far that I began to put my fingers in my throat every time I had eaten. My body was in a position where I was only skin and bones. I remember the day I fell down and got sick, suddenly I studied with other eyes on my body how I looked. Words that others said to me, that I was good as who I was, didn’t register in my mind.

  My grip on my life was slipping, and the only thing I focused on was losing weight. I didn’t notice how I became thinner and smaller. The family reacted, but I blew them away like the wind. My weight fell off me like dry skin; I grew thin and became small. But no one could understand what the point was. My only goal, all I wanted, was to become slim, to feel happy.

  I thought the food I ate was unhealthy for me, but now, I understand how it was when I now see pictures. First, now do I see how slim I was, that I wasn’t in control but lost it entirely. If I hadn’t gotten help when I did, I wouldn’t have survived. I remember the whole thing, what started it all.

  I would punish myself for feeling so bad. Every day, I told myself that I could stop and be happy again once I’ve reached a limit. I didn’t dare to tell anyone, afraid that they would judge me. Even though I wanted help and that my goal was 80 lbs, scared the s**t out of me, I stayed quiet. I was stuck inside my mind with the thought when I felt so stupid sometimes. Somewhere deep inside, I knew I wasn’t fat, but I was already perforated.

  I couldn’t get out; I was sick of all the anxiety, began to long back when I didn’t care about it when I could eat food without feeling bad the next day. All I wanted was to stop standing on the scale and watch the pounds fall off. I know I’ve moved forward, but there is a long way left to go; I’m trying to hold on, try to fight for my goal.

  I don’t want to think anymore; I just want to live because this s**t scares me, and I don’t want it anymore! When we first started high school, I had, thank God, won the pubertal lottery. I got nice curves and a well-formed body that most girls just dream of having. That’s when the bullying got the worst.

  My bullies showed obvious disgust at me in the corridors because of the simple reason the guys had started to notice me. As I reached puberty, I had started talking to others around me and finally managed to get me a real friend—my first. Adrian became my best friend and was always there when I needed him.

❄End of Flashback❄

“I’m sorry, but our time is up for the day. Do you want to book another appointment later this week?” the woman asks me.

“Yes, thank you,” I answer and feel a little lighter.

“Is Friday a good day for you?”

“That works as long as it’s in the afternoon.”

“How about four o’clock?”

“It’s a date.”

“Take care of yourself,” she says, smiling at me.

“You too.”

  I walk out of the therapist’s office towards the elevator. Back home to my empty and lonely apartment. With a sigh, I unlock the car with the remote control and jump into the car. The rain starts pouring down when I slowly start rolling home towards my anxiety-filled prison, an apartment with only myself and no one else.

    Once upon a time, I thought he would be here with me and that it would be us forever. Imagine what wrong you can have! I was going to tell him two of the biggest secrets I’ve ever carried within me, and only one of them was a good one.

  What I didn’t know then was that my dreams would quickly come crashing down in front of my feet together with my heart. I unlock my front door and hurry into the apartment. After what happened, I can’t be too careful. It’s dangerous enough for me to work.

    However, I’m well aware that I won’t be able to do it anymore soon; that’s why I must work as much as possible now when I have the opportunity. If you haven’t guessed it yet, I’m pregnant, with triplets additionally. Being pregnant with triplets poses more significant dangers than you might first think.

    I’m in the fifth month now, and when I reach month six, I’ll have to be on bed rest most of the time. Compared to pregnant women with one child, I need to go on more visits, take more blood tests and do ultrasound more often.

    In triplets pregnancies, both the waiting mother and the fetuses are exposed to much greater effort, posing more risks than twin and single pregnancies. The counseling and maternity polyclinic carefully follow up the pregnancy.

    Triplets have significantly less room to grow in the womb than a solitary fetus, and the uterus grows and stretches out more strongly. Risks include premature contractions, uterus maturity, premature birth, low birth weight, and slightly higher fetal death.

    Because of premature birth, newborn triplets need hospitalization from a few days to several weeks. That’s why I try to work as long as I can. Being hospitalized is far from free, and the father... Well, let’s just say he’s not in the picture.

    Besides, I don’t want him in my life or my children’s lives after everything. Sometimes, enough is enough. A knock on the door pulls me back to reality. I walk towards it and look carefully through the peephole. It’s my best friend since high school, Adrian, whom I mentioned earlier. I open the door and let him in without speaking. He knows better than to talk with me with open windows or doors. 

“Hello baby momma, how are you doing?” he asks and hugs me, carefully not to put any pressure on my already very swollen abdomen.

“I’m okay, I guess.”

“And how are the mini peanuts?” he asks, and I smile at his silly nickname for my babies.

“They’re good, but not so small anymore. I was at the hospital earlier.”

“Oh! Do you have pictures!?” he squeals like a schoolgirl.

   I gesture to my purse at the countertop. Adrien rises hastily and speeds up to dig out the pictures. With pictures in his hand, he sits down next to me on the couch again and squeals like a girl once more.

“Oh my god, mini peanuts, you’re growing so fast!” Adrien exclaims with such happiness; you’d think he’s the father.

   I caress my big belly slowly up and down. The babies stop with their kickboxing pheasants and calm down immediately. That’s right, babies, mommy is in charge. 

“How are you going to make it by yourself when you can’t work?” he suddenly asks with slight worry.

“I’m going to be all right, I’ve been working hard these past five months, and I can still work for one more. I’ve talked to Steve, who owns the building, and he was kind enough to let me live here for free for a while as long as I make him my special cinnamon roll’s on Saturdays.”

“You sure have him wrapped around your finger,” he says and laughs heartily at that.

“He’s just a really nice guy. I’ve told him everything that happened, and we’ve bonded these past months. He reminds me of how a dad is supposed to be.”

   The thoughts of my alcoholic and violent dad make my mood drop drastically. Adrian, as my best friend, obviously notice this immediately and take my hand in his.

“It’s going to be all right, momma. You can do this, and I’ll be with you all the way.”

“I hope you’re right,” I answer with a small smile. 

“Have you bought everything for your babies?” he asks, moving on to lighter subjects.

“Yeah, Mrs. Colt next door had many neutral clothes she didn’t need anymore since her kids are grown-ups now, so she decided to donate them to me. She actually offered to help me around the first months with the babies if I need it.”

“Who’s going to help you during the last time of your pregnancy?”

“No one, I can handle myself.”

“No, you can’t. I was there when you talked to the doctor, remember? He said, and now I quote, “you can’t overexert your body or be exposed to stress under any circumstances. Doing so can lead to premature birth. You’re only allowed to go to the toilet and shower; beyond that, you should be comfortable in bed or on the couch.” So, don’t try with me, little miss I-can-do-it-by-myself,” he says, and I roll my eyes at him.

“Well, what do you suggest I do then, huh? I have no one to help me! I can’t force others to care for me. Mrs. Colt has already helped me so much and offered to help when the triplets arrive. I can’t ask her for more than she’s willing to give. My mom wants nothing to do with me since I told her that I was pregnant, and my baby daddy is not an option. End of discussion!” I answer and feel the tears prickle my eyes, making Adrian hug me close and rub my back soothingly.

“I understand that this is hard for you, and I know that you’re doing everything you can to make this work. But please, don’t be afraid to ask for help. If you need it, all you have to do is ask.”

“I can’t do it, Ri,” I say and call him by his high school nickname. “I’ve worked hard to be where I am, and not even once did I need to ask for assistance. Asking for more help now is just like tripping on the finish line. I just can’t. This situation is something I have to cope with alone.”

   He nods his head and looks into my eyes. I know that he’s looking for some hidden meaning behind my words, but there’s none. When he can see that for himself, he lets it go.

“Have you decided if you want to know the genders yet?” he asks instead, aware that I want him to change the subject.

“Yeah, I don’t want to know.”

“I don’t understand how you can resist. It’s not even my babies, and it feels like I’m sitting on a stinger with anticipation.”

   The picture I get in my head of how my best friend bounces up and down on that stinger with an agonizing face makes me laugh out loud.

“But seriously, though, why don’t you want to know?”

“Because it feels like cheating. If I know in advance what it’ll be, my surprise will subside, and thus also it’ll destroy my expectations. I have a guess what gender they are, and I look at least as much forward to seeing if I’m right as I do to hold them in my arms. When the time is up, I get a little surprise for all the hard work I’ve been doing over these past few months. Take such a simple thing as renovating a nursery all alone,” I explain, and Adrien gives me an accusing look. “Okay, almost all alone. It made me happy to know it’s something I created myself. Unfortunately, I can’t take all the credit for creating my mini peanuts alone, even though they have an incompetent father. Therefore, the nursery is a significant accomplishment for me in my journey towards motherhood.”

“I’m so proud of you, darling!” he says, smiling big and wipes away a tear from his eye.

   His phone is beeping, and he grunts when he reads the message.

“Another shift?” I ask, to which he nods.

“Apparently. I swear to God they want me to get burned out. They must hate me to expose me to this torture!” he exclaims dramatically.

    I laugh at his shenanigans and rise from the couch before following him to the door to hug him goodbye.

“I will see you later, Ms. Peanut,” he says to me before crouching down so that his head is at my stomach’s height. “See you later, little peanuts.”

   He walks out the door and closes it gently behind him. I’ve asked him why he’s doing it before, considering it’s just me here. He answered that he didn’t want to upset the babies in my womb. I laughed loudly at his ridiculous statement. Having a friend like him is happiness in all its glory. Everyone should have one. 

    My body aches, and I know it’s time to crawl to the bunk. After such a day with more movement than usual and the experience of having to revive old memories, it has obviously taken its toll on me. With trailing steps, I get into my tiny bathroom and brush my teeth.

   It’s exhausting just to keep my eyes open at this point. I spit out the toothpaste and rinse my mouth. My fingers find the light switch despite my closed eyes. When I get out of the bathroom, I have to look; otherwise, there’s a risk of falling.

   I’ve always been clumsy, which is a significant disadvantage when you’re also front-heavy. My children now weigh about 300 grams each, but the amniotic fluid weighs all the more. I sit down on the edge of the bed.

   Now I have to turn forward and back until I manage to get my legs up in the bed without falling out. It’s a workout itself, and it looks like I’m trying to parallel park. When I manage to lie down comfortably on the side, I turn off the lamp and try to fall asleep.

    I’m close to achieving that goal. At least until the triplets decide to have a boxing match inside my stomach, this is going to be a long night...

A/N:

Hello everyone, and welcome to “My baby daddy-book 1”!

I want to begin by telling you, “thank you for giving this book a try.” Book two and three are released and finished. This series is my baby, and I love reading your thoughts about the chapters. With that being said, please, leave a comment with your thoughts. Your feedback allows me to develop and get better!

PS: The children’s books are released on my page!

Follow me on I/G & F/B;

F/B: Dreame author Linnea Heikka

I/G: author_linneaheikka

For questions regarding this book or future projects, don’t hesitate to contact me! Lots of love!<3