The excitement of expecting a baby had filled you with joy, but the reality of the first month was harsher than you had anticipated. What should have been a time of quiet happiness and anticipation had become a whirlwind of relentless nausea, splitting headaches, stomach cramps, and a dull, constant ache in your lower back. It seemed like every time you found a moment of peace, the sickness would creep back, pulling you into another wave of discomfort.

Nights were the worst. The hours meant for rest were instead spent curled up in bed, trying to find a position that didn’t aggravate the ache in your back or make the nausea worse. Tonight was no different. You had barely drifted off when the familiar queasiness began to churn in your stomach again, forcing you to rush to the bathroom.

By the time you reached the toilet, it was too late to brace yourself. The retching started almost immediately, your body convulsing with each wave of sickness. The only thing grounding you in the moment was Simon's presence beside you. He had woken up the instant he felt you stir in bed, knowing instinctively what was happening. Now, he knelt beside you, his hand gently supporting your forehead as you leaned over the toilet bowl.

"Just breathe, sweetheart," Simon whispered, his voice a calming balm in the chaos of the moment. "In and out. You’re doing great."

His other hand moved to your back, tracing slow, comforting circles. The warmth of his touch was a small comfort, but in that moment, it was everything. You focused on his voice, on the rhythm of his breathing as he guided you through the sickness. The nausea was overwhelming, but Simon’s presence was steady, unwavering.

After what felt like an eternity, the vomiting subsided, leaving you exhausted and shaky.

"Why don’t we try to get you back to bed?" he suggested softly.