“I’d be interested in finding out those statistics,” Tricia says with a wink.
“Brody, eat the crackers. Drink the juice. I have a lot of cute clothes to go purchase,” Journey demands. She’s beaming. Her cheeks are red. Her eyes are glossy. One hand is on her stomach, the other clutching the photos. She must not have known how much she wanted or needed this, and it’s amazing to see this change in her.
‘Hannah is going to be excited,” I say, munching on the crackers.
“She’s going to be an incredible big sister,” Journey follows.
“Two girls,” I mutter.
“How lucky are you?” Journey says.
“Do you know how many mood swings that equates to? How many boys will I have to scare off? Weddings. We have to pay for their weddings.”
“She’s going to have you wrapped around her little finger, just like Hannah does. Girls love their dads, Brody.”
I hear what she’s saying, but Hannah has not made me feel like a winning parent too often over the years, but I’d do anything for her, and I can’t imagine not having her in my life. So if this is just adding more of that kind of joy, I’m ready. Again.
“I’ll send the full report over to your obstetrician, and she’ll follow up with you in a few days,” Tricia says, placing her hand on my shoulder while offering a warm smile. “My husband and I have four girls. You’re going to do great.”
I inhale sharply through my nose and finish the crackers and juice. I can’t help but stare through the wall in front of me in a daze. It’s hard to snap out of the million emotions swirling through my head all at once.
“What are you so worried about?” Journey asks now that we’re alone in the room.
“I don’t want to mess her up,” I say. “I caused Hannah so much pain and discontent over the years. I can’t fathom the thought—but knowing it won’t happen to this baby because she will have you as a mom, makes me feel guilty that Hannah didn’t have it easy. I just don’t want her to feel like she missed out on anything, more than she already does.”
Journey takes the paper cup from my hand and tosses it in the trash, then takes my hands and tugs me until I stand up. Her arms loop around my waist, and she presses her chin into my chest, staring up at me. “Your fears are completely warranted, but you did not mess Hannah up. What happened between you and Kristy was not your fault. Hannah is old enough to understand this, and she does. You can’t keep layering this guilt onto your shoulders. You have done everything humanly possible to give Hannah a good life. She’s going to be okay. We’re all going to be okay. I promise you.”
I’m a jerk. We should be celebrating this new life growing inside of my wife's stomach, and I’m acting selfishly. “I only want what’s perfect for all three of you. I won’t stop until our lives reach that point.”
“Our lives are already perfect, so stop and enjoy the moment we’re living in, okay?”
I lean down and kiss Journey. “Okay, I will.”
“Otherwise, I’m going to put a pile of dirty socks in your pillowcase again, and I don’t love having to teach you hard lessons, Brody.”
I roll my eyes back, counting the times my adorable wife has done this to me as repayment for jokes I played on her. There is no worse joke than work socks in a pillowcase though. It’s not comparable to anything else.
Just as Journey takes a step toward the door, my phone buzzes again. “Hang on a minute. Hannah is texting me for the millionth time.”
Hannah:DAD?
Me:HANNAH?
Hannah:OMG. YOU KNOW?!?!
Me:Know what?
Hannah:UGH STOP IT. TELL ME!
Me:I don’t understand your question.
“Did you tell her?” Journey asks, waiting in the doorway.
“No. I’m not telling her over text. She can wait until we’re all together.”
“She’s going to be the one who puts those socks in your pillowcase tonight,” Journey says.
“Thanks to you for teaching her that trick.”
