Page 24 of Unplanned
I feel Nico’s eyebrows rise in my peripheral vision. But I mean it. I want our child to have a chance at a real grandparent relationship. Daddy smiles, and his shoulders relax a little.
Mama touches one of Valentina’s blanket-covered feet, addressing the baby and not me. “Of course, you’re coming to see me first. I think that’s proper. And we’ll take lots of pictures and make sure to send them to the sorority sisters and make them all real, real jealous, because all their kids had ugly, ugly babies.”
Good lord, this woman.
Nico and I exchange another look. Nothing changes on a dime.
Progress. It counts.
Mama and Daddy leave, but not before Daddy hands me a check. Mama pretends not to see it.
“This is the first lump sum from your trust,” he says. “For whatever you need. You, the baby, and Nico.”
I blink at him, waiting for the conditions.
He can tell what I’m thinking. He smiles, gets into the car, and they drive away.
I look up at Nico.
“Was that a fever dream?” Nico asks.
“No. I think that was a solid eight months of therapy.”
I reach for the car seat, but Nico dodges me, insisting I climb the stairs to our second-floor apartment empty-handed. He walks behind me as I climb slowly, so slowly, still feeling sore and sensitive everywhere.
When we reach the top of the stairs, I put the key in the lock and open the door.
“Welcome home, baby,” I say, looking at our place that was cluttered with boxes and wedding decor just a few short months ago. Now, boxes of baby things have taken over. A high chair, a bouncy seat, play mats, and more boxes of things we’ve yet to assemble.
“Not sure I want to even try to assemble the crib until we move into a two-bedroom,” I say, trudging to the bed and kicking off my shoes. I gingerly curl on my side on the bed, and Nico, having taken Valentina out of her car seat, lays her on the bed next to me. I feed her while Nico makes several trips back and forth from the car. My purse. The diaper bag. Several bags of personal care items sent home with us from the hospital to help me recover. Our suitcases.
“Have you asked if there are any two-bedrooms available?” I ask Nico.
Lately, he’s been even busier than I am, picking up extra shifts.
“Not yet,” he says.
“It’s fine. The bassinet will be enough for now,” I say, yawning as the baby suckles. I curl my body around her and close my eyes.
I don’t know at what point I fall asleep, but when I wake up, I find Nico asleep in the recliner in the living room, Valentina curled up like a little bug on his chest, his hand spanning her entire back, protectively.
My heart cracks open. Is it strange to feel a kind of sadness along with the love and happiness at a moment like this? It’s the knowing. The sudden understanding of how fleeting this is, and how daunting these parent-child relationships are.
Soon, our baby will be too big to snuggle into Nico’s chest, and I’m both sad and happy about it.
I want to stop time already.
But one thing that won’t change is how loved this baby will always and how loved I will always be.
I loved Nico from the beginning, and I can’t imagine doing this life with anyone else.
Epilogue
June
Two years since the cancelled wedding
Nico
