I arrived home from the hospital alone, my newborn in my arms, and my husband nowhere in sight. The moment I opened the door, a woman was there—wearing my silk robe, smiling as if she had every right to be. And the reason she was in my house made my blood run cold.
I had waited for that belly my whole life.
Some women try to hide theirs under big sweaters, but not me. I wore mine like a medal.
“Little one,” I whispered when the house was quiet, “I’ve been saving a chair for you.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Shutterstock
For illustration purposes only | Source: Shutterstock
At first, my husband, Ryan, made it easy to dream.
He pulled out that chair for me, rubbed my back until my shoulders went warm and loose. Ryan even boiled ginger tea at night, counting the kicks with a grin.
But then work got “wild.” At least, that’s what he said.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Shutterstock
For illustration purposes only | Source: Shutterstock
Then, his Mom “needed him,” and Ryan seemed to answer that call without question. Day by day, my husband became more distant, eyes fixed on glowing screens, hands always busy with his phone or keyboard.
