⇾ 𝐌𝐀𝐘𝐁𝐄 𝐈'𝐌 𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐙𝐄𝐃 | 𝐏𝐚𝐮𝐥 𝐌𝐜𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐧𝐞𝐲 𝐈𝐈

𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙉𝙞𝙣𝙚 ➪ 𝙀𝙭𝙘𝙞𝙩𝙚𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩

ꕥ May 8, 1969 ꕥ

By the time I woke up, the sun was already fully up. Paul wasn't laying next to me anymore, and our bedroom door was closed. I turned my head to look at the clock. It was already almost ten. Paul had let me sleep in. I hadn't slept in in what felt like forever, so I decided to take advantage of what little time I had to myself and closed my eyes again for a few minutes.

I heard the bedroom door open and looked up again to see Paul and Mary entering the room. Paul was carrying a tray and Mary was holding some forks. I sat up and smiled.

"What did you do?" I asked them with a laugh.

"We made you breakfast!" Mary said happily. Her speech was becoming so much better now. You could understand her a lot better and she didn't stumble over her words as much. I was proud of her for it.

"Well, thank you!" I responded. Mary climbed up onto the bed and came to sit next to me. Paul lowered the tray down onto the foot of the bed and stood back up straight.

"Let me go get our drinks," he told us before he sat down, turning to leave the room again.

I reached over and wrapped my arms around Mary. "Thank you for breakfast," I said to her, pulling back with a smile.

She pridefully grinned the widest grin I'd ever seen in my life. "You're welcome, Mummy," she replied.

I loved it when she called me that. It was the only thing she called me, granted, but every time she said it, I felt proud. I was proud of that title. I knew I was a good mother. Sometimes, there were moments when I'd doubt it. Moments when I felt like I'd failed her, but those moments were really what put it all into perspective. It was just me being worried. My daughter was happy 99.9% of the time, and that was what mattered. Sometimes she'd get upset, but every child got upset. It was just natural.

Paul reentered the room with two cups in each of his hands, and Mary's sippy-cup pressed im between his arm and his side.

"Tea for you," he said to me, handing me one of the cups. "Chocolate milk for you," he continued, handing Mary her cup. "And, tea for me." He smiled.

I finally looked at the tray. They had made some French toast which was quite shocking. I didn't even bloody know Paul knew how to make it.

"How does it look?" Paul asked me.

"It looked wonderful," I replied.

"Well, how about we dig in, then?" he exclaimed, gesturing to it all as he sat his drink aside.

ꕥ ꕥ ꕥ

"Okay, Paul, can you give her a bath before I get back and we go out?" I asked Paul as I was getting ready to leave. I hated to leave Mary here. I rarely ever let her out of my sight. I knew she would be fine with Paul, of course, but I always felt so nervous when I left her behind either way. I preferred to have her where I could constantly see her.

Paul nodded, gently guiding me towards the door. I was sure he had a feeling I wouldn't migrate over there on my own, which to be fair, I didn't see anything wrong with the presumption. "Yes," he assured me. "I'll give her a bath, and by the time you get back, she'll look so pretty. Just like you!"

"I laid her clothes out upstairs, alright? I hope this doesn't take too long."

Paul opened the door and leaned over to kiss me on the cheek. "The quicker you get there, the sooner it'll all be over. I love you!"

I smiled finally, feeling at ease. "I love you too," I responded.

"We'll see you soon. And, don't you go worryin' about us, alright? I won't let anything happen."

"I know you won't. I just hate leaving her behind." I gave him an anxious look.

He leaned over and kissed me again, this time on the lips. "You'd best hurry. You've only got thirty minutes until your appointment," he hummed against my lips.

I took a deep breath and nodded. "Alright, then, I'll see you later."

I turned around and heard the door close behind me as I made my way down the sidewalk. My bloody mind was wandering again. I kept thinking back to my dream last night. I kept dwelling on all the bad memories from almost three years ago when I found out I was pregnant. I couldn't shake the ill feeling in my stomach. My insides were churning and it felt like my entire breakfast was about to rise up in my throat.

Maybe that was just yet another sign. Maybe it was morning sickness. Maybe it wasn't nerves at all. Who even knew anymore? Definitely not me.

I went and got into the car, pausing to take a moment of silence for myself. I rarely ever got a break anymore.

Paul was right. The quicker I get over there, the quicker it's over and all I have to do is wait for some results.

ꕥ ꕥ ꕥ

As the doctor talked to me extensively about what it was they were testing me for to see if I was pregnant, I began to feel more accustomed to the idea of being pregnant again. I was finally able to put aside all of my bad feelings around last time I was doing this and remember all the good ones.

I remembered going out with Paul the day I had been tested. I remembered how scared he looked and how hard he was trying to gather every last detail that he could possibly get.

I remembered how fast the nine months went by. I remembered finding out we were having a girl, I remembered picking her name, and I remembered her birth. Those were all happy memories.

I swallowed the memories of my mother's disappointed eyes when I told her, her yelling at me, degrading me. I put them aside, not wanting to think about them right now.

By the time I was out of the doctor's office, I had a smile on my face. The nausea I had been feeling on the way in was long gone and I had a whole new outlook on everything. This time around, I had been told the results would be in in just a few days rather than a week. This sure was comforting. I was sincerely hoping it didn't take a week and a half this time around. That had been too much time for me to bear.

I had a few papers that the doctor had given me. Among them was a list of pregnancy symptoms she had given me to look out for while I waited. Really, it was there to quell my impatience. If these symptoms started popping up, then there was an even larger chance that I was pregnant. I had looked at them on my way out and when I was in the car finally, I grabbed a pen and out a check beside the ones I had experienced.

I rolled the windows down as I made my way back home. I needed to feel the fresh air. I needed it to fill my lungs up.

As much as I hadn't wanted my hopes to get too high about this, my bad feeling was slowly diminishing and excitement was replacing it.

The morning had been cloudy, but now, later on in the afternoon, the sun was out, mirroring my attitude. Cloudy and dreary this morning, perfectly happy now. Mood swings, I thought. I guess I could bloody add that to my list of symptoms. I had experienced every emotion in the world in just the past few days.

Things were finally getting better again. I was happy!