Carol became more intense as my due date got closer.
At first, it was easy to excuse. She had wanted this for so long. Of course, she was anxious, and of course, she was attached.
Still, there were moments that felt a little… off.
One day, my daughter had her hand on my belly and said, “The baby is moving.”
“My baby,” Carol said with a tight smile before moving my daughter’s hand aside to replace it with hers.
There were moments that felt a little… off.
“Our little miracle,” Rob said, coming to join her.
Carol came by every single day.
Paul grew quieter. He’d watch Carol sitting beside me, hands splayed across my belly, with a tense look.
Every time Rob called the baby “our miracle,” Paul’s jaw tightened.
One night as we were getting ready for bed, I asked, “Are you okay?”
Paul grew quieter.
He sighed. “I just think Carol is getting… intense.”
I sat on the edge of the bed. “She’s dreamed of being a mom since she was still a kid.”
“Anna, she talks about this baby like nothing else in the world exists.”
I shrugged, trying to keep it light. “Maybe right now it doesn’t.”
“I get that, I really do, it’s just…” he let out a deep breath and stared off into space for a while. “I can’t help feeling that something is wrong.”
I reached out and took his hand. “Once the baby is born, everything will be okay. You’ll see.”
