At the gender reveal, my sister-in-law pressed her palm flat against my belly and shut her eyes as if in prayer.
“Thank you,” she said. “Ivy, thank you.”
I told her to stop before she ruined my mascara.
They showed up for every appointment.
Once they learned it was a girl, they bought toys right away. Two months before the birth, they invited me for dinner and led me down the hallway to show me the nursery.
The walls were pale green, and a white crib sat beneath a mobile of tiny felt stars.
Melissa slid open the top drawer of the changing table. It was packed with folded dresses so tiny they looked like doll clothes.
“I know it’s silly,” she said, half-laughing, half-crying. “I just couldn’t help myself.”
The walls were pale green.
Ryan lingered in the doorway, smiling, but he never stepped inside the room. I remember thinking it was strange, then let it go.
If I’m honest, there were small cracks. Tiny snags I noticed.
Melissa was affectionate, but she’d text me at 11 p.m. asking if I’d felt the baby move that day. Ryan started glancing at his phone during ultrasounds, angling the screen away from his wife.
