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3 mo. ago
CBenson1273
I’m Worried About My Fellow Mom-To-Be
I loved John, with all my heart; I’d known the day we met I’d do anything for him. We’d talked about our goals, and he’d confessed how much he’d always wanted to be a father. Despite my worries, I was determined to give that to him.
I’ll never forget showing him my positive pregnancy test. The look on his face was the first time I was actually excited to be a mother.
But the time leading up to bringing our child into the world was miserable. I hated the extra weight I was carrying, my screwed-up balance, how much my back hurt. I couldn’t get comfortable at night; eventually I moved into the guest room for both our sakes. And I got so moody - sometimes I didn’t even want to be around him.
There were good moments too, of course. The best part, aside from knowing how happy I was making John, was the friends I made. I joined an online mommy-to-be chat group and met some amazing people. We’d share stories of our lives, our fears, our excitement for the future. It was like we’d known each other forever.
But there was one girl we were a little worried about. Mary was young and had a rough home life - her parents weren’t supportive, her boyfriend had disappeared when she’d gotten pregnant. We all resolved to do everything we could for her. We messaged her every day, reassuring her that she wasn’t alone. Most days we managed to keep her spirits up, but sometimes she was depressed whatever we did. We discussed doing more - throwing her a shxwer, donating baby items she’d need. But since she wouldn’t share her location, our hands were tied.
Then one day she reached out to me privately. Her parents had kicked her out and she had nowhere else to go. I immediately sent her the address of my family’s cabin - it wasn’t much, but she could stay there while she figured things out. John was worried about me traveling alone so late in the pregnancy, but when I told him I needed to go help a friend in trouble, he understood. I promised Mary I’d come up as soon as I could.
When I got there, she was sitting on the sofa crying; she rushed to hug me in gratitude. I assured her I was happy to help. I poured her some tea and asked about her plans; she said she’d been considering adoption, but because of me she was leaning toward keeping it.
Ironic.
Later, I reflected on how hard these last months had been: constantly wearing a fake stߋmach, feigning doctor’s appointments, kıllıng Mary’s boyfriend, luring her out here. But as I held my new daughter, freshly cvt from the đeađ bödy that had now served its purpose, I knew it had all been worth it. After all the pretending, John would have a real child and our family would be complete.
Maybe we’d even name her Mary.