Chapter 53 Michael vs. Hormonal Mood Swings
1148 Words
Michael had read every medical book ever written about pregnancy.
He knew the textbook causes of hormonal shifts, the biological mechanisms of mood swings, the expected emotional fluctuations, the approximate timelines.
None of them prepared him for the reality of living with a pregnant Marnie Co.
Not even close.
It started at sunrise.
Michael woke up smiling—because how could he not? His wife was finally pregnant. With twins. His entire world felt as if someone had lifted the roof off the universe and poured light straight into it.
He turned toward Marnie, brushed the hair from her cheek, and whispered,
“Good morning, my love.”
Her eyes snapped open.
She stared at him.
And burst into tears.
Michael sat up instantly. “Baby? What’s wrong? Are you in pain? Did something happen? Are you feeling dizzy? Nauseous? Did—”
“I can’t believe,” she sobbed dramatically, “that you would breathe so loudly while I’m trying to sleep.”
Michael froze.
He replayed the words in his head.
Then blinked.
“I… was breathing?”
“EXACTLY!” She buried her face in the pillow. “Why do you have to breathe like that? Why is it so deep? Why is it so regular? Why is it so—so medical? You’re doing it on purpose!”
Michael did what all smart husbands do.
He shut up.
He gently rubbed her back. “I’m sorry. I’ll breathe quietly next time.”
“You’re mocking me!”
“I’m absolutely not mocking you.”
“You are!”
“Baby, I swear on every cell in my body I’m not.”
She sniffed and peeked at him with glistening eyes.
Then frowned.
“You look too handsome right now and it’s irritating.”
Michael’s lips pressed together. “I… can go look less handsome in the bathroom?”
She sighed dramatically and pulled the blanket over her face. “Do what you want. Everyone does.”
Michael sat there, completely lost.
He wasn’t even sure if he was allowed to move.
Finally, he stood up carefully—slowly, as if approaching a wild animal—and made his way to the bathroom.
The moment he closed the door, he exhaled.
He didn’t last five seconds.
“MICHAAAEEEEL!”
He sprinted out of the bathroom so fast he nearly dislocated something.
Marnie sat on the bed, hands pressed to her lips, crying again.
He panicked. “What happened?! Baby?! Talk to me—”
“I… am craving pancakes.” She wept harder. “But not just any pancakes. I want the fluffy ones. The heavenly ones. The ones you made the morning after our wedding.”
Michael blinked.
That was doable.
“Okay, sweetheart. I’ll make them. Right now.”
She gave him a tragic look. “But if you go to the kitchen… you’ll leave me alone.”
He stared.
“…So you want the pancakes,” he said slowly, “but you don’t want me to leave.”
She sniffed. “Yes!”
Michael rubbed his face. “Baby… the ingredients are in the kitchen.”
“Well…” she huffed. “Bring the kitchen here!”
He almost choked. “The entire kitchen?”
“Yes! Or stay beside me and magically summon the pancakes. I don’t know! You’re a doctor! Figure it out!”
Michael stared at the ceiling, silently asking the heavens for strength.
Then he climbed back onto the bed and cupped her cheeks. “Honey… I love you. And I love our babies. But if you want food, I have to go cook.”
She glared at him, squinting as if testing for lies.
“Promise you’ll come back?”
He kissed her forehead. “Promise.”
She nodded stiffly. “Okay. But hurry. I’m pregnant. I can’t wait forever.”
She lay back down dramatically, one hand draped across her forehead like a Victorian woman fainting on a chaise lounge.
Michael dashed to the kitchen like a soldier on a mission.
But three minutes later—
“MICHAAAAAEEEEL!”
He dropped the whisk.
Ran.
Almost tripped.
He burst into the bedroom. “Are you okay?!”
She stared at him with the blankest, calmest expression ever.
“Why did you leave me?”
He opened his mouth.
Closed it.
Opened it again.
“…to make the pancakes you asked for.”
She gasped. “You remembered!”
“…Yes?”
“I can’t believe you’re so thoughtful!” she wailed, suddenly emotional again. “You’re the best husband. The best! Come here. No, wait—don’t come near me. I’m sweating. I look awful. I’m hideous.”
Michael gently touched her cheek. “You look beautiful.”
“No, I look like a puffy dumpling!”
“A very cute dumpling,” he said without hesitation.
She pointed a finger at him. “Stop being adorable. I’m still annoyed.”
He fought a smile. “Noted.”
She crossed her arms. “You’re smiling!”
“No I’m not.”
“Yes you are!”
“Baby, I swear—”
“DON’T SWEAR! The babies can hear!”
Michael stared at her.
Marnie dissolved into tears again.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m crying.”
He lifted her into his arms and placed her on his lap. “Because your hormones are adjusting. It’s okay. I’m right here.”
She sniffed, pressing her forehead into his chest. “You smell nice.”
“Thank you.”
“Which is annoying because I want to be mad at you.”
He bit back a laugh. “Of course.”
“You’re not allowed to laugh!”
“I’m absolutely not laughing.”
“You’re laughing in your head!”
“…Possibly.”
She gasped dramatically. “Unbelievable.”
He held her tighter. “Do you want to come with me to the kitchen? I’ll carry you.”
Her eyes softened instantly. “You’d do that?”
“Always.”
She sighed contentedly. “Okay. Carry me. But you can’t breathe loudly.”
“Got it.”
“And don’t look too handsome.”
“I’ll try.”
“And don’t walk too fast!”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And don’t walk too slow!”
Michael smiled now. “Anything else?”
She hesitated… then whispered:
“…Don’t ever leave my side today.”
He kissed her temple. “I won’t.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck and tucked her face against him.
Michael stood, carrying her effortlessly, and walked slowly toward the kitchen—his pregnant wife clinging to him as if he were her entire universe.
And the truth was…
He loved every second of it.
Even the chaos.
Even the tears.
Even the impossible pancake situation.
Because this was their life now.
Messy.
Ridiculous.
Tender.
Chaotic.
And perfect.
- Writer
