Page 11 of The Game Plan
That part feels like a dream I haven’t woken from yet.
“You’re allowed to be scared. Most young moms are. Heck, I have older women who are still scared of becoming a mom. This is a huge change for anyone. And from what you’ve told me, you’ve been carrying this load all on your own.”
My throat burns as I fight the urge to cry. “It’s not that I don’t love this baby.”
“I know,” she says sympathetically. “Love and fear can coexist. I can recommend a good therapist—someone you can talk to. Someone who can help you share the thoughts that keep tormenting you.”
Knowing I don’t have the budget for a therapist, I shake my head. “I guess I need to have some hard conversations with myself.”
Dr. Sinclair nods, reaching over to squeeze my hand. “You’re a strong woman, Savannah. Take care of yourself. Have those tough conversations. And when you’re ready, open the letter. I know how excited you were to find out the gender of your baby. Find that excitement again.”
Nodding, I give a tight, reassuring smile.
Maybe someday soon, I’ll open the envelope.
But not today.
Rain beats against the window as I stare out into the gloomy night. A fuzzy blanket drapes over my shoulders as Dr. Sinclair’s words from earlier repeat.
Have I opened the envelope?
Does this not feel real?
It was real as soon as the sticks revealed two pink lines. At that moment, life as I knew it was changing. Staring at the envelope sitting in my lap, I use my thumb to trace my name written on the front. I could have this opened in seconds and find out if I’m having a son or a daughter.
So why can’t I open it?
The low rumble of thunder shakes my building as my phone rings, startling me. My aunt’s name flashes across the screen. She might be my aunt, but in so many ways, she became the mother figure I needed.
“Hi, Aunt Bethany.”
“Hey, sweets. How are you and the little one?”
Scooching lower in my couch cushions, I make myself comfortable for a long conversation with my aunt.
“We’re doing good. Sitting here and watching it storm.”
“I’ve been watching the weather. Looks pretty nasty.” Her voice softens, and I hear a clinking sound in the background. Knowing she’s an hour ahead of me, I’m sure she’s settling down for her nightcap…of Sleepytime tea.
“It is, but nothing I can’t handle.” Silence fills the line, and I know she’s gearing up to switch roles from Aunt to Mom in three…two…one…
“You had your thirty-week appointment today,” she muses. “How did everything go?”
I sigh and press my hand to my belly. The baby rolls and arches its back, following the path of my hand. I can’t help the smile that breaks free. Even with all the unknowns and insecurities, I’m ready to meet my little one. “Everything’s good. The baby’s growing right on track, and my health’s normal. I'll go back in two weeks.”
“That’s great, sweets.” I can hear the smile in her voice. “So…am I buying pink or blue clothes?”
My hand pauses on my belly. “I haven’t opened the envelope.”
I know she’s disappointed that I haven’t opened the letter. Not only that, but she’s been concerned about my well-being since I told her I was pregnant. She didn’t want me to come back to Texas, but there was no way I was moving back in with her. She took care of me when I needed her most, even though this wasn’t her problem. I was following in the same footsteps as her and my mom—and no one wanted that.
“Still?”
“I know,” I rush to say, hoping to avoid the concerned parent lecture. “I don’t know what I’m waiting for. Maybe I’m scared that if I open it, this all becomes too real.”
“Sweets, I hate to break it to you, but this is all very real.”
“I’m aware.”
