First Crush, My Forever

Chapter 121

  Before we even leave the house, Taytum watches me move around the bedroom like I am made of glass. I am not fragile, but she cannot seem to help herself lately. Her eyes track me as I pull on my shoes, as I grab my bag, as I pause when the baby shifts again.

  "You good?" she asks, already halfway to me.

  I smile. "I'm good. He just likes to announce himself now."

  She crouches in front of me and rests her hands on my knees. "He gets that from you."

  I laugh softly and brush my fingers through her hair since she has it down for now. This feels different than before too. Less frantic. Less fear threaded through every moment. There is trust here now. In my body. In the process. In us.

  At twenty four weeks, my body feels different again. Not heavier exactly. Just more present. Like I cannot ignore it even if I try.

  Some mornings I wake up already aware of him. Before my feet touch the floor. Before my brain fully turns on. There is a quiet sense of occupancy now. Like my body is no longer just mine, and somehow that feels grounding instead of overwhelming.

  The kicks are becoming stronger too. Not the fluttery reminders from before. These are solid. Intentional. He is kicking enough to make me stop mid sentence sometimes and press my hand to my stomach without thinking.

  It feels like communication. Like he is reminding me he is here. Like he wants to be acknowledged.

  Taytum notices every time.

  "You okay?" she asks as we pull into the parking lot.

  I nod. "He's awake."

  Her mouth curves into a soft smile as she parks. She cuts the engine and turns to look at me. One hand reaches across the center console and settles over my belly like it belongs there.

  "Good," she murmurs. "I want him awake. I want to see him moving around."

  There is something reverent in the way she says it. Like this is not just curiosity. It is connection. Proof.

  Inside, the office smells the same as always. Clean. Slightly floral. Too bright but today it does not make my chest tighten like it used to. We check in, sit down and I breathe. I notice how my shoulders stay down. How my jaw does not clench. How my heart rate stays even.

  The waiting room hums quietly. Other couples. Other bellies. Other lives paused in the same place as ours. I do not compare myself to them the way I used to. I do not spiral. I just sit peacefully.

  Taytum stays close. Her knee pressed against mine. Her fingers laced through mine as she rubs slow circles against my knuckles while we wait. I am not bracing for bad news. That alone feels new.

  It feels earned.

  When they call my name, Taytum stands immediately. Like she is ready for anything.

  The nurse leads us down the hall after my routine vital check. The ultrasound room is dimmer than the rest of the office. It's warm and quiet. The tech greets us with a smile and motions for me to lie back.

  I ease myself down, adjusting slowly. My belly feels heavier when I recline now. More undeniable. Taytum takes her place at my side like it is instinct, one hand on the bed, the other already holding mine.

  As soon as the gel touches my stomach, the baby shifts hard enough to make me laugh.

  "Oh," I breathe. "There he is."

  Taytum's grip tightens. "I felt that."

  The screen flickers to life and then suddenly there he is. Clear. Not a blur. Our baby boy. His little face, round head, nose, lips and spine that looks impossibly perfect.