“I do like my head,” he says. “It keeps my neck in line.”
“Is there room on your plane for all those kids?” Mrs. Park asks.
I snap my head toward the door where she and Mr. Park are standing. “Of course,” I say. “It seats twenty.”
“If you don’t mind, we may head back to Utah tonight.”
“Of course. You should,” I say. “I really appreciate you mobilizing your jet so fast and bringing Abby’s family along as well. I know they can be a little much if you’re not used to big families.”
Until I got used to being around them, they used to wear me out, too. Sometimes they still do.
“I was worried,” Mrs. Park says. “My husband and I both were.” She steps closer. “We were hoping to convince you to move to Korea to raise your child.”
I have no idea what to say to that.
“But now, after seeing the family you have.” She shakes her head. “Our son has joined a beautiful family.” Her smile’s sad. “We’ll try to come and visit often so that we aren’t strangers.”
David’s parents may be overbearing, and they may be irritating in their insistence that he do things their way, but they clearly care about him, and they’re more insightful than I expected. Their culture is one where the woman leaves her family and joins the family of the man, typically, from what I’ve studied. It’s nice to hear her say he’s joined a nice family.
Once they leave, David drags the sofa a little closer to my bed and lies down. I feel a little bad. He’s far too long to sleep on the short little sofa the hospital provides. “You should have gone too,” I say. “You won’t be able to sleep there.”
“You know, in Korea, my people often sleep on mats on the floor.” He smiles.
“You’re lying.”
“I mean, I didn’t ever do that.” He’s smiling more broadly. “But you know, our people often do.”
I throw a pillow at him. It seems fair, since I have three, but it’s also gratifying to smack his smug face. “I love you,” I say.
“I don’t think you’ll ever truly comprehend how much I love you,” David says. “I know how much you’ve changed your plans, and I know you’re doing it all for me.”
“And for me,” I say. “Most of my plans are great, but the one where I never had a kid needed an overhaul.” I think about that moment when I saw the blood earlier today. “I’m not sure I’ve ever been so afraid as when I thought I was miscarrying.”
“Me either.” David stands and squeezes in next to me on the bed.
“You better not try to stay here all night,” I grumble. But I’m already turning just a hair sideways so he can curl up behind and beside me.
And when I fall asleep, I haven’t let him leave my bed yet. There are so many things in my life now that were all wrong for me before I met him. Now those very same things are the best parts of my life. I’m thinking about how certain people can completely alter the trajectory of our lives, if they’re the right ones.
Like Abby did when she was born.
I’m blessed that David careened into my orbit and knocked me sideways, and I’m beginning to understand how blessed we both might be to have this little boy joining our family.
I wanted Abby.
I didn’t realize I wanted David for years and years.
And I almost made a huge mistake with this baby, one that I would have regretted, maybe forever.
While I will forever champion the right for women to choose, I’m glad my family and friends helped me find the right path for this pregnancy while there was still time to take it.
23
MANDY
No matter how much you love a particular food, if you eat it too often, you’ll probably get sick of it. If you really, really eat too much, you may find that your love of that food turns into hate. It’s a pretty simple concept for most humans to understand. I mean, we’ve all listened to our favorite song so many times that it started to make us cringe. We’ve probably also eaten so many Pringles that we had to avoid the chip aisle.
At least for a few days.