Her Dream Came True—Until It Didn’t
At our 20-week ultrasound, the doctor confirmed it: a boy. I sighed with relief because it meant fewer monologues from Sheila.
“I knew it!” she squealed with glee. “A little champion! I can already see him playing baseball!”
“What if he wants to do ballet?” Jake whispered to me, barely hiding his grin.
Sheila nearly choked on her sparkling water. Everything went relatively smoothly after that.
I counted down the days, slept with a pillow between my knees, and ordered pineapple pizza at 3 a.m. like a true hormonal goddess.
One week before the due date, Jake kissed me goodbye with a guilty smile.
“Sweetheart, I have to leave for two days — just two! Promise me you won’t give birth without me.”
“Sure,” I teased. “I’ll keep the baby in with sheer willpower until you’re back.”
But deep down, something in me felt uneasy.
