“What were you choosing to believe?”
He didn’t blink.
“That this is real,” he said. “That we’re actually going to have a baby. After everything. I keep thinking I’m going to wake up.”
It made sense. I went back to bed.
I would think about that phone call a lot, later.
Ben came to every appointment.
Every single one. He took time off work. He sat in the plastic chair beside the exam table and held my hand and asked the doctor a hundred questions. He kept a notebook. A notebook! He wrote down my blood pressure and my weight and every word the doctor said.
At the first ultrasound, when we heard the heartbeat, that fast little galloping sound like horses running far away, he put his hand over his mouth and turned toward the wall.
“You okay?” I asked.
He nodded without turning around. His shoulders were shaking.
