I couldn’t believe how lucky I was.
There were a few strange moments in those months. Tiny things. I only saw the shape of them later, after everything fell apart.
Once, late in my pregnancy, I was lying on the couch with my feet in Ben’s lap, and he was rubbing my ankles, and out of nowhere he asked, “Do you think she’ll look like me?”
“I hope she gets your eyelashes,” I said. “And my nose. Definitely not your nose.”
He laughed, but it wasn’t a real laugh.
“Seriously,” he said. “Who do you think she’ll look like?”
“I don’t know, babe. Both of us? Neither of us? Babies all look like little old men at first anyway.”
He nodded and kept rubbing my ankles, but his eyes were somewhere else.
Another time, I came downstairs at night and found him at the kitchen table on his laptop. He snapped it shut when he heard me.
