Cravings, Emilie desired grilled cheese; two slices, butter smothered crusty white bread, warmed until the butter melts, add cheese, Red Leicester or Strong Cheddar, neat slices that bubble under the grill. It is what her baby wants, the purest pleasure, Emilie seizes the rare moment, adding a slice of ham under the cheese, a dash of Worcestershire sauce or whole grain mustard. The cravings struck throughout the day; ignoring the barbecued delights, plates of burgers, hotdogs and chicken wings, Emilie munched her way through several cheese sandwiches. Emilie sighed, relieved this would be her final trimester, she worried about her figure, the baby’s size, how would she ever give birth? The doctor recommended leafy green vegetables and broccoli, rather than cheese, but grilled cheese was simple and the only way to make it throughout the day.
Rylan loved the freedom, working and home life, heading to the city, festivals on a whim, time with Emilie, meeting his sister, but it was beginning to lose its charm. In business, his role had perks, friends he made outside the usual group. Home; it was quiet, Emilie chatted, cooked or cleaned, often interrupting his train of thought. A suggestion caught his attention; with fame to his name, a social media career could open doors. The jobs offered were low paid and low level, he entered a small firm as a clickbay writer, his cheeky words and accompanying social media profile made slow progress, it was a long way from where he hoped to be one day.
Emilie watched the sunrise most days sipping orange juice on the porch, telling her stomach what excitement was in store for them or reading excerpts of Rylan’s latest book. She knew her baby would choose the start of the day, as labour pains tried to interrupt her routine as she was finishing the grilled cheese sandwich. Rylan rushed, throwing the bag into the car, checking everything, stressed at Emilie and her relaxed to approach to eating. Contractions were close together; they rushed to the delivery room, dilated and ready to burst. The room erupted, first Emilie cried as she pushed on command, trying to remember the breathing techniques they had learnt, Rylan suppressed his pain, as fingers bore the strength of his wife’s grip, with a moment of deafening silence split only by the sound of their baby’s first cry.
Eliza wriggled in the doctor’s arms, her vocal objection to the cold world and having her cord cut. Emilie, shock and awe at what they had produced, she counted the baby’s fingers and toes, the gummy yawn reminding Emilie of the energy she expelled to birth her daughter. Rylan proud, stood back as Emilie cooed over the next generation; she promised Eliza, as responsible and well-mannered she should be, they will have time to raise a little mischief.
By the Grace of Sim Gods 