Page 43 of The Final Faceoff
Except that’s a lie, isn’t it?
She’s always been mine, in some way or another, and the baby . . .
I sigh and tap the screen. The book opens.
Week 8: The Early Stages
Your baby is now about the size of a kidney bean.
I pause, looking over at Hailey. Huh. She’s carrying a kidney bean. An actual bean. That’s—it’s tiny.
I shake my head and keep reading.
At this stage, many mothers experience nausea, exhaustion, and heightened sensitivity to smell. That explains why she gagged earlier when we passed a pretzel cart. A pretzel cart. She loves pretzels. It’s a personal offense to her entire being that she couldn’t eat one. And yet, she barely reacted, just turned a little green and walked faster, like maybe if she moved quickly enough, she could outrun whatever was happening inside her.
Foods that were once favorites may become intolerable, and certain smells can trigger strong nausea.
I frown, thinking back to dinner. The chef had already prepped something when we got back—a meal that would’ve made any other human consider proposing to him on the spot. Hailey? She barely touched hers. Just picked at the pasta, eating the plainest bites, avoiding anything with too much sauce, too much seasoning, like she was performing a low-effort excavation. She never said a word about it, never complained, but I saw how she nudged her plate around like it had personally wronged her.
I glance back at the e-reader. Maybe there’s something useful in here.
I skim past the nausea section and vomiting—she hasn’t actually thrown up yet—and land on a list of foods that are supposedly easier to keep everything she consumes down. Bland stuff, mostly. Rice, crackers, some fruits, a weirdly passionate endorsement for ginger.
Still, I shoot a text to George with new instructions for our meals. No garlic. No strong flavors. Maybe stock up on the things in the “you might survive eating this” section.
My phone buzzes immediately.
George: Bland food? Are we punishing someone?
Me: Hailey is pregnant.
George: Ah, that explains why she barely ate my food. Fine, I’ll deal with your guest. How long did you say she’ll stay?
That’s a great question and the answer should be something like “forever,” but I go with a simple response.At least until the baby is born.
I glance over at Hailey who shifts in her sleep, her fingers curling into the fabric of my couch like she’s holding onto something—even in her dreams. She burrows deeper, her breathing slow and even, the faintest crease between her brows, like she’s still thinking even as she rests.
I should probably stop watching her like some lovesick Victorian gentleman waiting for his unrequited love to awaken. Instead, I glance back at my screen and continue reading.
Emotional Changes and Mental Health.
I really had no idea how pregnancies worked. When my parents had my younger siblings—Lucian, Scottie, and Greyson—they just mentioned we would have an addition each time and brought the baby right after they were born. We never met the surrogate mothers or . . . were a part of said pregnancy.
Now I need to know everything without ever witnessing it. And it seems like pregnancy can bring significant emotional changes due to hormonal shifts. Mothers experience heightened anxiety, mood swings, and moments of doubt about their readiness for parenthood.
I stop, staring at the words.
Hailey would rather sprint through a field of Legos barefoot than admit she’s scared. She covers it with sarcasm, jokes, the kind of self-deprecation that makes other people laugh—but sometimes, when no one’s paying close enough attention, there’s this flicker of something else. A hesitation. A doubt she shoves down so fast I almost wonder if I imagined it.
Today at the sonogram, she acted like it was no big deal to see the tiny life growing inside her. But she didn’t fool me. Yesterday, she came close to crying. Almost. But Hailey doesn’t do almost when it comes to vulnerability. She is strong. Independent. Unshakable on the outside.
I tap on the next section and I’m not sure if I want to read it:How Partners Can Be Supportive During Pregnancy.
I’m not her partner. I’m just the friend who waited and waited and . . . well, is now out of time, isn’t he? So this is probably how I can get the girl—well, woman.Be Present: Attend appointments, listen to her concerns, and reassure her that she is not alone.
Check. I’m already doing that. Probably a little too well, considering she gave me that side-eye today when I answered the doctor’s question before she did.
Encourage Rest: Fatigue is common in pregnancy. Offer to take on daily tasks and ensure she has time to relax.Okay. This is doable. If she lets me. If she doesn’t throw a Hailey-sized tantrum about being perfectly capable of carrying her own groceries, thank you very much.
