And so the months went on. Despite all trials and tribulations, the family endured. Theresa, however, wasn't having a good time: her belly had swollen to such a point that it became difficult for her to walk, not so much because of the volume of it (which was still impressive) but because she always had swollen ankles and felt so bloated.
Her mood swings weren't helping either, going from irascible to teary eyes in the matter of hours. Neither the children nor George Sr had ever seen her behave like this.
"D-do you think it will be fine?" Theresa asked her husband, the two lying in bed as the children were sleeping.
"Of course, you're strong and healthy. I'm sure our child will be the same." he answered, caressing her cheek.
"You know... I've actually been thinking that it can't be just one child. I think we're having twins, maybe even triplets." she said.
A shiver went down his spine, two or three more mouths to feed was a lot... but if that's what the Good Lord had planner for the Davis family, who was he to oppose this.
And after not even a further month of waiting, the hug day finally arrived. Theresa was doing the laundry when she felt a weird sensation from between her legs. Looking at the floor she could see a little puddle but she knew that it wasn't water from the laundry. Mere moments after the contraction started, her face contorting in pain.
"George! George! Call the midwife, my water just broke!" she screamed.
George Sr never needed to be told anything twice; before Theresa had even finished her sentence, he was already out to get the midwife, practically screeching at her to come over to the house immediately! Meanwhile, the frazzled children of the house did everything they could to make their mother more comfortable. Betty and Liz were holding her up by the shoulders, while George Jr headed straight to the cupboard to pick out a woolen blanket for his mother to lie on.
By the time the midwife arrived, Theresa was laid out on the gray, well-worn hardwood floor, a thick, red and black floral-patterned blanket serving to cushion her as the children continued to watch over her, their nerves swirling and trashing through their bodies like rage-possessed earthworms. The midwife didn't need to be told anything: she was already over Theresa in a heartbeat, positioning herself right in front of her legs as she prepared to do her duty.
All the while, George Sr watched on in the background, wishing to do something, but finding himself completely lost. His gut was telling him that somehow, despite her earlier speculation, Theresa was not going to be having twins or triplets.
And he didn't know if he liked what that implied.
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