My mom tells everyone that she took me to the doctor yesterday,and the doctor ran some tests. The room falls silent when she says the words: “Kenna’s pregnant.”
I can feel the weight of the silence, but then, surprisingly, I feel lighter. I take a deep breath and speak up.
“Since I found out I was pregnant, everything has shifted. I realize that there’s a tiny miracle inside me, half me, half Cole. And when I went to bed last night, it was the first time I didn’t cry because I was sad. I cried because I felt hope. Hope that I can give this baby a good life. That I can do right by it and Cole.”
I glance around the table, my eyes meeting each of their gazes. “I’m having this baby. And for the first time in a month, I feel like I have a purpose.”
The room is still, everyone processing the words I’ve just spoken. I can feel their eyes on me, some soft with concern, others with something like curiosity. But no one speaks right away. The silence stretches, and I can hear the pounding of my heartbeat in my ears. It’s like I’m waiting for their judgment, waiting for the weight of their expectations to land on my shoulders.
Reuben is the first to move. He pulls me even closer into his side, his hand rubbing small circles on my back, like he’s trying to soothe away the nerves I didn’t even know I had. His arms feel strong around me, like a shield against everything else. I lean into him, seeking comfort in his warmth.
“Kenna, I…I’m so proud of you,” he murmurs, his voice low and steady. “I know it’s a lot. But if anyone can handle this, it’s you.”
His words make something inside me shift. I don’t know if I believe him yet, but it feels good to hear. I close my eyes for a moment, taking a shaky breath. When I open them again, I see my mom’s face, her eyes filled with a mixture of tenderness and worry. She looks so much like me. I don’t know how, but at this moment, I see her in a way I never have before. She’s strong, but she’s also scared, and it makes me want to reach out and take her hand.
“We’re all here for you, honey,” my mom says softly, her voicesteady, but there’s a flicker of emotion in her eyes that tells me she’s not as calm as she’s trying to appear. “This is going to be a big change, but you’re not alone in this.”
I nod slowly. The words sink in, but it still feels surreal. It doesn’t seem real that I’m about to bring a baby into the world. Cole’s baby. Would he have been happy? I hope so. I hope he knows that I still love him, a love I’m reminded of every day by the baby growing inside me.
“I just want you to know,” my mom continues, her voice breaking a little, “that I’m here for you no matter what you decide. I’ll help you with whatever you need. You’re my daughter, and I love you. This baby…it’s a part of you, and that means it’s a part of me too.”
I swallow hard, fighting back the tears that have been threatening to spill over all day. The weight of her love, her support, is so much heavier than I expected. I didn’t realize how much I needed to hear those words, how much I needed her to tell me it would be okay.
Asher, my older brother, leans forward, his expression soft but genuine. “I’m not sure what all this means, Kenna, but I’m here for you. I don’t really get it, but if you need anything. Anything at all, I’m in. You’ve always been there for me, and I’ll do the same for you.”
His words are simple, but they feel like a promise. I turn to him and give him a small smile, the first real one I’ve had in weeks. I don’t know how to explain it, but hearing my family’s support is like a balm to a wound I didn’t even know I had.
“Thanks, Asher,” I whisper, my voice barely audible.
My mom stands up then, walking over to the counter where she’s set up a pot of coffee. “I’ll give you guys some time to talk,” she says, her voice quiet but firm. “But when you’re ready, we’ll talk about what comes next. We’ll figure it out together.”
I nod, the weight of the decision still hanging heavily in the air. But for the first time in a long time, it doesn’t feel soimpossible. My family is here, and even though I still don’t have all the answers, I know I’m not alone.
After a long moment, Reuben speaks again, his voice low and careful. “Kenna, do you know what’s about to happen in the next months??”
A pang settles deep inside me, heavy in my chest. I look at him, my brother, who’s always been there for me, even when I didn’t realize I needed him. Steadying myself, I take a deep breath. I don’t have all the answers yet, but I know one thing for sure.
“I’m going to keep my baby,” I say, my voice quiet but sure. “I don’t know exactly what’s coming, and I don’t know how I’m going to do this, but I feel like it’s right. I don’t want to go through this alone, but I believe this baby is extraordinary. And I can’t let go of that.”
Reuben nods, his expression softening as he squeezes my shoulder. “You’re going to be an amazing mom,” he says, his voice filled with sincerity.
I feel a flutter of warmth inside me, a spark of hope that I haven’t felt in weeks. It’s a tiny thing, but it’s enough. Enough to keep me going.
As my mom comes back to the table, she sits down beside me, and we all just sit together for a few moments. The weight of the decision is still there, but somehow, it’s easier to breathe now. There’s a little more light in the room, a little more warmth.
Eventually, my mom speaks up again. “I know it’s going to be hard, Kenna. But we’ll face it together. Every step of the way.”
I look around at my family, each of them with their own mix of emotions—concern, love, maybe a little fear. But they’re all here. And for the first time in a long time, I feel like I can do this. I don’t have all the answers, and I don’t know what’s going to happen next, but for now, I know that I’m not alone.
I’m going to keep this baby. I’m going to figure it out. And maybe I will be okay.
Chapter Thirty-One
FROM MISS TO MRS. AND MOM
KENNA-PRESENT
The air feels different today,like it’s holding a little more promise. The promise that makes your chest lift just a little when you inhale, like the world is finally offering something back instead of asking for more.
