Page 12 of Forever Christmas
Chapter 5: Corabelle
I don’t know what to do with myself.
Gavin is at work. I have a one-week break between classes.
I’m no longer a TA, so no prep work to do.
And I’m pregnant.
I keep saying it over and over again.
I’m pregnant.
I’m pregnant.
The bathroom mirror reflects my image back at me. I am the same Corabelle. Long dark hair, pale face, faded T-shirt,jeans that won’t fit much longer.
But I’m more. I press my hands against my belly. Someone is in there. Another boy? My heart squeezes, remembering Finn’s tiny face.
Or a girl this time? Like Jenny’s little Phoenix or the one soon to be born to Tina?
I don’t know what I want. Other than no heart defect. No premature labor.
No hospitals, wires, breathing tubes, or NICU.
Maybe I am asking toomuch. The pregnancy is a miracle all by itself.
I called Jenny’s ob/gyn since I didn’t really think the health center at the university was the right place to go. The woman who schedules appointments said to come in at nine weeks when we could do a sonogram, but if I was worried to come in sooner.
I like that I’m welcome to check in with them anytime. But that doesn’t keep me from being scaredout of my mind.
My professor is out of town for the summer, and the quick email I sent him saying I might have to change my plans got an automatic out-of-office reply. The baby is due in February, which means I would take maternity leave only six weeks into the new position as an adjunct professor.
I’m going to have to turn the dream job down.
I should finish my master’s degree before my duedate, though, as long as everything goes well.
It has to go well.
Otherwise I’ll have given up my opportunity for nothing.
Well, not for nothing. Finn was not nothing.
But for another baby I will not get to raise.
I can’t think this way.
I shake it off and push away from the sink.
It’s no use to buy into that negativity. I have to believe. I’m possible. The baby’s possible. Our future ispossible.
My bare feet are a whisper down the hall. The carpet in front of the sofa needs to be vacuumed, dirt brought in by Gavin’s work boots. I think I see a few sparkles too, remnants from when I worked on Tina’s stars before taking them over to Jenny’s.
The closet door in the living room sticks when I try to open it, and I have to jerk it hard. The vacuum inside is probably a hundred yearsold. It was left in the apartment by a previous tenant but still works.
I can’t quite roll it out due to all the junk in there, most of it Gavin’s unused weight equipment. I have to shove aside a giant wheel marked fifty pounds. My arms protest the strain.
I feel a pull in my belly and a white-hot panic shoots through me. Did I do something already? I’m not supposed to lift heavy things.
