Imagine: You carry Hunter's baby and have a toxemia of pregnancy

"Babe?," Hunter's anyway quiet voice sounded from the front door area across the spacey living room before keys jingled and the door closed again with a weak thud. You were awake, lying on you two's kind size bed on the other side of the fancy city apartment. In your mind you called "I'm over here!" but in reality you feared your head would explode if you so much as started to speak so you just figured he'd find you here anyway. And he did just seconds later. Making his way across the grey marble floor, he didn't find you in the kitchen or on the big leather sofas so he headed to the bedroom door which was half-open. As silent as possible he entered. "Hey," he whispered. He hadn't taken off his brown jacket with the soft wool collar yet. "Hunter," you greeted him feebly, relief lingering in this one word. It wasn't before this moment that you opened your heavy eyelids. "How are my two favourite girls in the whole wide world?," the young man with the blonde mob asked softly. A little over 3 weeks ago we had found out our baby was going be a girl. Little Madison Lynette Hayes. The first trimester had still been alright and quite normal. With bad morning sickness but apart from that, everything seemed fine. As soon as you were 13 weeks along, though, something changed. One day to the next you felt sick, weak and dizzy all the time. You spent 26 hours on the sofa like that with your eyes closed to stop the world around you from spinning before Hunter couldn't stand watching you like this anymore. It had taken all your willpower to keep the few spoonfuls of soup down he had insisted on feeding you hours ago. That day he had ditched rehearsals for the upcoming album recording because he refused to leave you alone in this state. The boys understood and management - he'd just deal with them later. His big palm ran up your forehead for the you didn't know how many-th time this evening. The clock on the wall showed 10.33pm in red digital numbers. "I think you're working up a fever," he mumbled more to himself than you. He was sitting at the edge of the brown sofa right next to where your legs were, his brows in a big frown. "Ok, that's enough now." His touch was gone, leaving a cool feeling behind. "I'm taking you to hospital." He had already gotten up to get your green parka and his own jacket on the way. "I don't know," you lifted your head to follow where he was going, "really?". You didn't know how to feel about this. "Here, can you put this on, love?," he kneeled down to help you get your arms through the sleeves, then scooped you up and carried you bridal style all the way through the front door and to the car, not without pulling your hood up. You just rested your head against his shoulder. You were too tired to protest, so tired. Also, this felt kind of good while it lasted. It made you wonder when the last time was that Hunter had actually carried you like that. Next to the black SUV he let go of your legs for some seconds but still holding you against his chest to open the door and place you in the passenger seat. With a "snap!" the safety belt was secured. "It'll be okay," you heard him say before he shut the door and get behind the wheel seconds later. A rushed ride to the emergency room and 2 hours later the doctors had run all kinds of tests. bloodworks had finally revealed that you suffered from a rare condition called toxemia of pregnancy. Only one in 500000 women got it and you'd've been glad not to be the lucky one in this case but fate decided differently. Most pregnant women would rebel against being treated like they were made of glass saying stuff like: "Honey I'm pregnant, not sick." Well, your body reacted to the pregnancy like it actually made you sick, poisoned it. Luckily, the baby was healthy; the diagnosis just meant that you had to lie down for the rest of your pregnancy, constant nausea as your companion. A little more than a day later they released you to go back home, if only under a strict monitoring schedule. Unfortunately, the homeopathic meds for your stomach and head didn't seem to work - at all. It's been 24 hours since you'd been back from the hospital.

You were lying on your side, facing an approaching Hunter, like you had been practically all day. With a constant pounding in your head it took you an eternity to even get to the bathroom. "I'm not good," you pressed out. Talking made it worse so you decided to keep it to a minimum. Gently, he sat down next to you and tugged a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "Have you been like this all day?," you heard Hunter's voice barely louder than a whisper. "Mh-huh," you confirmed and looked up at him as he finally wriggled out of his jacket, careful not to rock the mattress too much. The hand that lay next to your face moved to cover your nose slightly. It was out of order but ever since the condition kicked in you couldn't stand any kind of odeur, be it food, flowers or human. You felt horrible about it, because before all of this you loved your husband's smell more than anything. For countless times you'd actually cuddle up to his chest and take in deep breaths of what was an intoxicating mixture of his favourite cologne and...well, Hunter. His gaze wandered over to the night stand where he noticed several plates and bowls he had left there in the morning before he left for the studio were now on the floor, seemingly untouched. "Could you eat, baby?," he asked, but he already knew the answer. "No. It's all sickening, Hunt, everything." His hand drew small circles on your shoulder now. He exhaled sharply, then said: "You have to eat, love. You're feeding a little one now." "I know," you considered sitting up but just the thought of it made your stomach turn again. "I really tried. I can't," you swallowed hard. "You've got to be hungry. Anything?," he cooed. "Uh uh." This afternoon even some water had made you spit. Now that the smell of Hunter's deodorant filled your lungs, you felt that feeling build up inside of you again. "What's the last thing you've eaten?" "Um... apple." "That slice of apple I gave you for breakfast?," he asked and the frown was back on his face. "Mh." One more thought of anything food and you'd throw up again. "I'll be right back," Hunter said and went to leave the bedroom, the door still half open. He pulled his mobile from the jacket, tossing his jacket on the sofa as he paced through the living room with big steps. Speed dial. Someone answered. "Doctor Heartley, this is Hunter...Hayes. I'm sorry I'm calling in this late but my wife - she's not well. She hasn't eaten all day and I'm really worried."

20 minutes later the door bell rang which was really curious at 9.30 pm. You could only hear mumbling, coming from Hunter who got the door and a woman. "[Y/n]?," he peeked from behind the door, "Doctor Heartley is here to check on you." You opened your eyes and this time actually moved to sit up as heels clinked against the floor. Mrs Heartley was your op-gyn, a nice, slightly posh woman in her late 40's who you trusted at this special time in your life. "Hey, [y/n], how are you?" Her bag hit the floor next to you. "Bad." You decided not to sugarcoat anything. "Bad?" Her disgustingly sweet perfume hit you like a wave as she sat down on the bed and started to put a blood pressure metre on your arm. "Have you been taking your meds?" "Yeah," you breathed. Hunter was standing behind her, watching, not quite sure what to do. "And no improvement?" "They don't work." Talking was really strenuous. "I'm sick all the time." "Mh." The doctor checked the scale, looking over the hem of her glasses. "Blood pressure's slightly on the low side, but that's probably from lying down all day." Next, she replaced the arm bandage with a cardiotocograph, a belt around the belly to monitor the baby's heart rate. "And you haven't been eating?" You felt like you were constantly called a failure. Tears crept to your eyes. Great, now you felt sick AND emotional. "I can't keep anything down." Eyes closed, the back of your hand moved to cover your nose and mouth. You couldn't stand that smell anymore. The doctor noticed what was wrong: "Oh sorry, honey, is it my perfume?" You nodded slightly. The woman scooted back a bit. "Many pregnant women are sensitive to all kinds of smells. I apologize, dear." "Thud thud thud thud" - the rapid futuristic sound of a tiny but quick heartbeat filled the room. Unconsciously, Hunter nibbled on his lower lip. He stepped closer to meet the woman's gaze and read her face. After a minute or so the doc confirmed: "Ok, baby's happy. That's the main thing." And she removed the belt again. You watched her through heavy lids wanting nothing more than to lie down again, in silence. "So in order to prevent malnutrition, I'll put you on a drip, darling. You'll be done in about two hours, ok?" "Your eyes widened and heart quickened immediately. What?! "No, please. Is there no other way? I hate needles, I've got a phobia of them -" You were already panting, feeling the panic creep up inside of you. Doctor Heartley put her hand on yours: "It's ok, darling. We want what's best for the baby, right? Right?" She eyed you intensely. "But -" you were squirming now even though your vision went kind of blurry when you moved. Hunter's brow was deeply wrinkled now. He saw your distress and knew exactly how you felt about needles. When your look met his, he knew you hated him for this at the moment. He sat down at your feet. The blonde woman retrieved a bag full of liquid and a tube out of her bag. Then a small package with the canula. You feared for the worst. "Can you...put it in here?," you asked anxiously, pointing at the crook of your arm. You couldn't think of anything more horrid than imagining this sharp thing being stuck inside the veins of your hand. "No, darling, for it to run nicely, it needs to go into the back of the hand." You closed your eyes and pressed your lips into a thin line. The thought of that thing piercing your skin made your head throb. You sunk down. "It'll be fine darling," she assured again, already peeling the needle from the foil. You rolled over to the side, pressing your eyes shut as the doctor took your left arm (you had been lying on) and sprayed a cool liquid on it before wiping it off. Hunter put his hands on your legs, soothingly rubbing up and down. You tossed your head to the other side not wanting to see any of what was to come. "Ok, deep breath," the doc ordered before she pushed the needle in with one swift motion. It was secured in place with two strips of tape crossing. Your breath hitched when the stinging pain shot through your system, leaving a pulsating feeling in the whole limb. "There you go, all done." Rummaging sounds as Dr. Heartley packed up again. "Hunter, the liquid should be in within the next two hours. After that just detach the tube, ok? I'll leave you a plaster right here." "And you try and get some sleep now, [y/n]. I'll check back up on you in the afternoon my dear." A friendly pat on the shoulder and the woman was heading towards the door, clink clink clink. "Thanks, doctor," Hunter said, "we appreciate it." "Oh, you're very welcome. No worries, I'll find my way out. See you tomorrow." And with that she headed out. Soon Hunter scooted closer. "Hey," he whispered, "you did so great. Two hours and you'll be rid of it again, ok?" You looked pretty checked out. Your chest was still going up and down quickly. "Hunter?," "Yeah?" "I hate this," your voice sounded whiney, on the verge of tears. "I know, babe. I'm sorry..." You slowly opened your eyes again until they met with Hunter's, careful not to look at your hand. "Can you lie with me?" "Of course. If you'd like that." "Can you-," and you motioned towards his t-shirt. He understood. "Shall I-? 'Course. Let me get rid of this real quick." And with this he disappeared through the door. Seconds later you heard the shower running. He hopped in and let the water run down his body but was mindful not to use any body wash. When he returned, he went straight to his underwear drawer, pulled out a pair of white briefs and put them on. You watched as he walked over to his side of the bed, then carefully crawled close to you, spooning you from behind, just much more cautiously than usual. His right hand switched off the lights before moving to your still very small bump, stroking the skin underneath your top. His touch felt good and soothing and he smelled mostly of water, something you could bear. "I'm sorry," he whispered close to your ear. "for putting you through this." "Don't be silly. I want this baby. Just wasn't granted a normal pregnancy, s'all." It felt like the words were painfully echoing in your head. There was a short pause. "You're so strong. I don't know how you do it." "I'm not." "hell yeah, you are," the young man protested. "I have to. I don't know if I can do this for 5 more months..." Silence again. Hunter planted tiny kissed along your shoulder and wherever his lips could reach from where his head lay. "Want to know what happened at the studio today?" "Mh-huh." You weren't really tired, just preferred listening to talking. Mainly because trying to hold a conversation made your head spin. "Devo wanted to know if we had decided on who's going to be the godfather, yet. I said no and they kind of got into an argument over it." Hearing that a smile pulled on your lips, for the first time today. More stroking. "Have you decided on one?" "No," you breathed. Although you had much time at hand, you also had too much going on with your health to focus on important decisions like that.