Nine years. Nine whole years of being Cohen’s mom. Sometimes, it feels like it just began yesterday; other times, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
As Cole and Cohen go downstairs to make breakfast, their voices already fill the house with uninhibited laughter. I pause by the mirror to finish getting ready. My reflection looks tired but hopeful.
And then, a sudden memory hits me with the force of a tidal wave: the day I brought Cohen home. I was seventeen, trembling with fear and doubt, wondering if I could really do this, if I was enough.
But then I looked into his tiny eyes, and everything fell into place. The fear melted away, and fierce, unwavering love replaced it. That love has only grown.
As I brush my hair in front of the mirror, I glance at my reflection a moment longer than usual. I look the same, mostly. But inside, something feels…different.
A subtle heaviness. A pull in my core.
And then the realization comes.
My period. It’s late.
I freeze, brush suspended midair.
Could it be?
I try to shake the thought. This isn’t the time. Today is Cohen’s day. But the whisper won’t go away.
I walk into the bathroom quietly, my hands moving automatically. I find the unopened test from beneath the sink—leftover from a hopeful moment months ago, when Cole and I first started talking about maybe, one day, trying for a baby.
And now...
My fingers tremble as I open the wrapper. Even though I’ve done this before, I follow the instructions. I set it down. I wait.
The longest three minutes of my life.
I stare at the counter, heart pounding in my ears. I try to breathe, but my mind is a kaleidoscope of emotions—hope, fear, disbelief, joy.
Then I see it.
Positive.
The breath leaves me like a quiet sob. I sink onto the edge of the tub, a hand to my mouth.
Tears spill down my cheeks. Not just from joy,
But from the weight, the beauty, the miracle.
I think of Cohen. Of how scared I was the day I brought him home. Seventeen and alone. But he made me strong. Hemademe a mother.
And now, another baby. A new soul. A sibling.
I already feel the love forming inside me like a seedling pushing through soil.
This baby will be so loved.
When I finally go downstairs, I catch sight of Cole and Cohen in the kitchen.
They’re standing by the stove, Cohen bouncing on his heels ashe helps Cole crack eggs into a bowl. I watch them for a moment, my heart full as I take in the scene.
It’s perfect. Just like I’ve always imagined it would be. A father and son, side by side, working together. And I can already picture what it’ll be like in the future, with another little one running around, joining in on the fun.
I pause in the doorway.
This is it. This is the life I used to daydream about when I didn’t think I’d ever have something whole. Something safe.
