Lightly Longing

Seven Weeks

Mr. Arbi looks dizzy looking for a place to eat. I just follow her attitude with all her attitude. Small shop, he stopped the car there.

Take off the seat belt and ask me to come with him. I nodded slowly, reluctant to go down.

"Okay, eat in the car, yeah."

"Yes, Mum."

Ten minutes Mr. Arbi came back with the package. He opened it, the side dish fried rice chicken like he bought. Smelled so distinctive aroma, I don't know why I like that fragrance.

I brought my sense of smell closer to the already open rice. Several times inhaling the fresh scent of bay leaves.

"Eat, Ta." Mr. Arbi indirectly interrupted to shift from there. I pulled away, then sat in the car seat tilted towards him who was ready with a spoon in hand.

I opened my mouth, devouring what was before my eyes. Just three mouthfuls, I don't want to eat anymore.

"So seriously have eaten it?"

"Yes, Mum."

"There's still a lot of this, Ta."

I put my hand away, just wanted to smell it. As a result, Mr. Arbi spent it. Finished with the chewing event, he went back to continue the journey to the obstetrician.

I still feel dizzy, slowly closing my eyes while enjoying being pregnant. Incredible, delicious as it turns out, my mind.

"Ta" called Mr. Arbi who made me open my eyes for a moment.

"You're all right, right?"

"Oh, don't know, Mom. The pleasure was amazing as it turned out," said I who slowly massaged both sides of the head.

"Wisdom what?"

"Morning sickness."

Mr. Arbi smiled as he rubbed my cheek with my thumb. We arrived at our destination, the doctor's sign was clearly displayed in front of us.

I was taken down by Mr. Arbi. He really. looked after me. Not so many patients, probably because it's still morning.

There were about two women with protruding stomachs, sitting in waiting chairs. Each one was accompanied by her husband. I saw one of the men smoking in front.

One sat next to him, but he was busy with his cell phone. The woman with shoulder-length hair in a long dress looks gently rubbed her stomach.

Mr. Arbi was standing in the corner, approaching the nurse on duty. He seems to have made an appointment before. I was still standing not far from him.

Sister asked for self data, we sat in front of her. That little stocky woman asked me to weigh. Then scratch it in a special book on his desk.

"Elder body weight, Mom."

When we finished, we were asked to sit in the waiting room. He passed us to the doctor's office on my right.

"Wait a minute, sir, ma'am," said to us after we got out of there.

I leaned my back head against the wall, Mr. Arbi who seemed to be aware of my position, carried my head to his shoulder.

"How many months pregnant?" ask the woman right beside me who is two waiting chairs away.

"Not yet, Ma'am. Just want to check," replied I who glanced at him.

"Mom, how many months?" I do not want to get the impression of being arrogant, even though it sounds kepo.

"It's been 25 weeks" he replied, stroking his stomach.

"Pantes already looks great," said another who was only returned with a smile by him. Then, her massage number was called by one of the black-veiled nurses.

I hugged Mr. Arbi's arm, he rubbed my hand. Slowly inhaling my head. He did not care if his attitude invited sharp eyes from the nurse in front of him.

He just chuckled, unbeknownst to me now, he had already kissed the back of my hand. I'm pulling fast, embarrassed.

"Mas, uh."

"Rubber, dong. I'm bucin's with you, really."

"Yes, but embarrassed. There's still people here."

Mr. Arbi still spoils me here. The woman who came out with the nurse. Looks like, they still have to wait for the cure or something.

We still have to line up one more person. Yeah, the guy who smoked up front earlier. Now it's their turn. When the man passed by, I suddenly became nauseous.

I covered my nose and tried not to spit it out. The smell of perfume was very confusing to my head.

"Next another bra, Ta?" I nodded, Sir rubbed my nose slowly, massaging the side of the head. He changed the hug on his arm so he grabbed my shoulder.

"First child, huh?" ask the woman beside me. Now he sits across from us.

"Yes" I replied slowly. There was a smile painted there.

"First child is so. Dear husband, especially still early this way."

Mr. Arbi looked at me. His gaze sparkled, his face was also radiant. I was embarrassed to see his attitude that did not see the situation.

The woman's name was called, she went to the fat nurse's desk earlier. Looks white plastic wrap together some tablet board.

The man smoking was out with his wife, which means it's my turn. There are still a few minutes to wait because the nurse in the hijab has not come out.

Now, I'm in the doctor's office, complete with an ultrasound device. Mr. Arbi was asked to sit at the doctor's desk while he was doing the examination, in my stomach.

The device moves to bring up a uterus that looks fertilized. The small shape like a fruit of distance was clearly visible there.

"It's been seven weeks" Andi said.

"Huh? Seven weeks, Doc? We've been married for five weeks."

"Yes, Sir, Mom. Don't be surprised, the count is. Calculated from Mom's last period," he explained.

The doctor was done with the examination in the stomach, he again landed the buttocks in his chair. Mr. Arbi helped me to get out of the gurney.

"Be careful, dear."

Now we've been sitting in front of the doctor, seen him doodling on a white paper with his name logo.

"There's nausea?"

"There, Doc. Since when?" he asked again, staring at the two of us in turn.

"It's only been about a day or two."

"Okay," said Doctor Andi who thinned his lips and returned to dancing pen on saba. He handed the paper to the nurse. "For a while, his wife's husband's relationship was reduced, yes."

"Why, Doc?" asked Mr. Arbi spontaneously with a confused face.

"Yes, dong. If often visited, later his son would quickly go out to meet, Father," said the doctor who made Mr. Arbi still do not understand the joking of this small-bodied doctor.

"It's still too vulnerable, sir. He has not been able to stand the shock.Tri first semester it is that must be maintained. If possible, do not connect until the fetus is three months old. If, could!" dr. Andi said with great emphasis in his last sentence.

"But, if you can't, once a week, yes, sir. That too, don't stir. Just just letting go of the opium."

Andi's doctor looks like he has a smile, he seems to understand the expression of Mr. Arbi's face. Mr. Arbi seemed to furrow his brows, he looked at me as if he wanted to be defended.

"It has to be like that, Doc?"

"Yes." Yeah."