The topic of motherhood is one that has been swept under a rug, hidden from plain sight. Hidden from my sight.
I'm an orphan. There's no doubt about that. My biological parents died due to a drunk driver causing a car crash when I was one. There wasn't enough time with them to develop any memories. Laurance says they're like a small cotton ball in his mind, barely there, but what's there isn't clear.
I don't know the sound of my father's laugh. The sound of my mother's voice when she'd lay me to sleep.
I know my dad.
I know that he tried his best raising three children by himself. How he tried to attend what he could. That what he couldn't wasn't through choice. He kept a roof over our heads and food on the table.
I know that his laugh is full and hearty. His eyes sparkle when he feels joy. I see him smile more than cry.
He got married a few years ago, and now I'm not the youngest anymore. I joined the title of "middle child" alongside Laurance when our brother was born. It's like a do-over for him.
Caleb has a mommy and a daddy.
Growing up without a mother was tough because I'm a daughter. The birds and bees talk felt awkward to have to hear from a male, and the topic of why I needed a training bra felt worse. While other girls were with their mothers in the store choosing a bra that fit, I was sitting in the dressing room by myself, questioning if I had the correct cup size for the garment I picked.
Cadenza had to explain how bra measurements worked after her own trial and error.
As a child, it was custom to think all children had a mom and dad. So when Kandi told me to ask both my parents if I could sleep over, I skittishly went to ask my dad. Zianna caught wind and scolded her, but I didn't realize something like this wasn't as common for other people.
Despite this, I've always wanted children. In my mind, if I had children, they'd have a mother. Someone to guide them as they grew older and help with the things I had to learn on my own. They wouldn't have to wonder what their mother was like.
They'd have both a mother and a father.
Laundry has always been a chore I dread. I don't mind putting the load in the washer and switching it to the dryer, but it's the folding and hanging of clothes that I could do without. Sometimes Vylad will be a doll and finish the task off for me, but he isn't here to do it.
I also don't like to vacuum, but Vylad still has me do it.
Vylad slips into the house and drops his coat off on a hanger by the door. He smiles up at me, gently kissing my cheek when he comes near. A towel is picked up as he questions my day, starting a little stack of folded items of his own.
"Sometimes I wish we were back in high school," Vylad chuckles, eyeing the height of my stack before his own. "The only worry he had been our grades and how long you could stay out of your house before Laurance realized you went out the window."
"You say that now, but you would scold me every time then."
A dish towel is tossed at me, hitting my chest. "That's because you had too much trust in that tree."
I shake my head, folding the fabric and setting it off to the side into its own stack. The chore goes by rather quickly with Vylad's help, and he walks off to put the towels away after placing them back in the basket for easier traveling.
By the time he comes back, I haven't moved. The look on his face is skeptical when he walks closer to me. "Are you alright?"
I smile wide, nodding my head proudly. "Did you know you're a daddy?"
"Alex, you and I both hate that kink."
Excitement boils within me, each bubble creating a new butterfly that flutters away. I place his hands on my stomach, glancing down at them before back to his eyes. His slowly travels down to the new touch, realizing the meaning as I speak. "It's not a kink when you're going to be a father."
I've noticed before that my dad's eyes sparkle when he feels immense joy, and I've realized that Vylad's does the same thing. "A baby. . . " He mutters, like the word is foreign to him. "Oh, chérie, we're going to be parents. . . to a baby."
"Yes, mon amour, we're going to have a baby. You're going to be a daddy."
My feet lift from the floor. Suddenly I'm looking down at my overjoyed husband as he twirls me down in a circle. "And you'll be a mother. Do the others know?" He doesn't have enough time to place me back down firmly on the ground to prolong the speed of his words. My silence seems to be an answer for him. "A baby."
Vylad's hands have always been bigger than mine. I think everybody's hands have been. I've never been able to wear "ladies" gloves and have been forced to look in the children's section, so my hands don't freeze in the winter.
They engulf my cheeks, bunching up my hair at the sides. Vylad doesn't seem to be able to stop himself from repeating "a baby" and "I'm going to be a father" all the while.
When his excitement hits its peak, my face is rushed to his as he gives me a kiss. Red dashes across my cheeks like a relay, while my hands move up to his hair and neck.
A voice sounds from our entryway.
"If you keep acting like this, there will definitely be a baby sometime in the future."
Vylad pulls away to glance in his sister's direction. His smile instantly becomes one of annoyance. "How did you get in here?"
"I have a key."
