Jesse tipped his head at me, leaning back in his seat. “Why do you look like all of your worries are gone?”
I guessed the relief was what manifested on my face. “Because this whole time, I thought you didn’t want to know the gender of the baby or discuss names because you wanted to keep your distance from it.” I had to clear my throat before I could say anything else. “I thought it might have been because you were upset . . . resentful . . . of what might happen to me.”
Jesse’s face softened before I could finish my sentence. Then his arm went around my shoulders, and he gently guided my head to his shoulder. “I’m sorry you felt that way. Although I suppose it’s not too hard to understand why you felt that way. I have been removed and keeping my distance from the baby, but not because of my lack of feelings for it. It’s because of my abundance of them.”
His voice was so strong and soothing in my ear, I found myself closing my eyes and basking in it like the first warm rays of sunshine after a long, hard Montana winter.
“I’ve been afraid that whatever it is out there that seems intent to even the scales when someone experiences more happiness than the average person should will rush in and rectify that. I’m worried that I’ve lived so many happy moments that I’ve hit some lifetime limit and they’re all going to disappear.” He sighed then kissed my temple. “I’m worrying because that’s all it feels like I can control with this. I’ve gotten really good at it too.”
Given the conversation, I knew I shouldn’t feel continued relief. I accepted that in most instances, a pregnant wife would be freaked out if her husband had just told her about a recurring hellish nightmare he’d been having and his premonitions about life evening the scales. But I didn’t. I felt as if I’d been climbing a mountain with a giant pack strapped to my back, and it had been pulled off and I’d finally scaled the summit.
“I wish you would have told me this earlier. That’s a heavy burden to bear all on your own.” When I breathed in, I smelled his favorite soap on him, and the world felt a little more right again.
“You’re telling me I’ve got a heavy burden to bear? I’m not the one with a living thing growing inside me.”
He was trying to get me to laugh. It worked. “So I’ve got the physical burden to bear, but you’ve got the mental one. It would make it a lot easier if we helped each other out with of our burdens. Don’t you think?” When he didn’t answer right away, I added, “Come on, no fair. You’ve helped me with my burden so much.” I highlighted my stomach with my hands. “I know you’ve thought about carrying me down the hall or up the stairs or through the store, but you know better than to try it because there’d be no end to my wrath. But you make more meals these days than I do, give me nightly back rubs, and you got that cocoa butter stuff for my stomach to prevent the stretch marks I was worried about, so now all I’ll have to worry about is a giant incision scar running down my lower abdomen.” I was hoping to pull a laugh from him, but no dice. “You’ve helped me the whole time. Let me help you now too.”
The baby curled up in its car seat across from us woke up and started to make the tiniest little cries mixed with coos. No joke, the passed out parents snapped awake as if a tub of ice water had been poured over their heads. Both of them reached for the baby like it was an involuntary reflex, but in the process, they managed to bonk their heads together. It barely slowed them down though. The sleepy-eyed dad chuckled and gave his head a rub, letting the yawning mom who’d issued an oww! wind the baby out of the car seat.
It was like a not-so-carefully orchestrated dance. They moved together in an undesignated way, but somehow, it all worked. They were a family. They had only been one for maybe a week but were already working together in such harmony that it struck me how adaptable we humans could be, and how we were wired to form bonds and connections.
I was still staring at the exhausted, happy family when the nurse called my name. From the look on her face, it wasn’t the first time she’d called it either.
Jesse was already up, extending his hand for me to take. When I did, he pulled me up smoothly, draped an arm around my shoulders, and guided me to where the nurse’s frown had turned upside down. I took one more glance over my shoulder at the family, emotion burning my throat. I wanted that bad.
“How are you feeling, Rowen?” The nurse held her smile as Jesse and I passed through the door.
“Like I’m a giant petri dish.” I generally spewed those kinds of comments to get a smile or chuckle from Jesse—he’d needed every one I could pull out of him lately—but he was in another world and tiny beads of sweat were starting to dot his temples.
The nurse definitely caught my comment though. She tilted her head back at me, her shoes continuing to squeak down the hall. “A petri dish?”
I shrugged and eyed my stomach. “I feel like my sole purpose right now is to let this little thing grow.”
Her smile was definitely forced as she turned into one of the rooms. I supposed she was probably used to expectant mothers answering her with phrases like Not bad or Pretty Good or maybe even Really pregnant, but she hadn’t asked someone else—she’d asked me. I felt like a petri dish.
“We’re going to have Ben do your ultrasound, then Doctor Stuart will see you.” The nurse lifted her head at the tech in the corner, who flashed us a wave before scanning my chart. “You already gave a urine sample, correct?”