When I step outside, the bright afternoon sun nearly blinds me. Cars glide past on the main road, the air smelling faintly like cut grass and asphalt. I make it to my car and sit for a moment before starting it.
We don’t start to worry until it’s been a full year of actively trying, plays on a loop in my head.
I think about how Mason always says,We have to let God do His thing. We have to trust him.And I know he’s right. I do. But right now, sitting here in the quiet of the car, it just feels like the tunnel I’m looking down keeps getting longer, and I don’t like that. I want to see a light, a flicker. Anything.
I grip the steering wheel tighter as I pull into my parents’ driveway, the familiar split-level house looking exactly the same as it always does.
I don’t have to be anywhere. Mason’s working late. And I’m not in a rush to go home to an empty house where all I’ll do is sit on the couch and spiral.
I grab my purse and head inside.
“Mom?” I call out as I step through the door.
“Down here!”
I head down the stairs to the lower level where she’s folding laundry on the couch, a basket of towels at her feet and the TV playing some home renovation show in the background.
“Hey.” She smiles, setting down the towel she’s folding and standing to hug me. She studies me for a second, her smile fading slightly. “You okay?”
“Yeah. Just tired.”
“How’s Mason?”
“Good. Busy. Working a lot.”
She nods, folding another towel. I can tell she’s waiting for me to say more, but I don’t know what else to say.
“How was your appointment?” she asks casually, not looking up from the laundry.
I tense. “How’d you know I had one?”
“You mentioned it last week.” She glances at me.
I nod, swallowing hard. “Oh. Right.”
She pauses, studying my face. “Megan.”
“What?”
“You’re not a very good liar.”
My throat tightens.
“What’s going on?” she asks gently, setting the towel aside and turning toward me fully.
I take a shaky breath. “We’ve been trying to get pregnant. For nine months,” I continue, my voice barely above a whisper. “And it’s not happening.”
Her expression softens immediately. “Oh, honey.”
“I asked the doctor about it today,” I say, blinking back tears, “and she said we shouldn’t worry until it’s been a full year.” I laugh bitterly. “A full year, Mom. Like nine months of this isn’t already enough.”
She reaches over and takes my hand, squeezing it gently. “I’m so sorry, Meg.”
“I just don’t understand.” My voice cracks.
“Everyone else makes it look so easy. Addison got pregnant right away. Ella too. Karissa didn’t even want kids, I don’t think.” I wipe at my cheek. “So why is it so hard for us?”
Mom doesn’t answer right away. She just sits there, holding my hand, her thumb tracing slow circles over my knuckles.
