The waiting was killing her. Interminable. It’s just a week, she told herself. I can wait a week. But it was hard. So hard. The possibilities, the dreams, filtered through her mind while she tried desperately not to hope.
Thoughts of her belly growing round and full. Dreams of feeling those first kicks. Of seeing that small life growing inside her on an ultrasound. She dreamed of the look on her husbands face, the happiness and love she’d find there when they knew for sure. She smiled at the thought of telling their parents that they were going to be grandparents. Of the happiness the news would bring. The way his mom would light up with happiness. The special way her mom would smile. The pride that would shine on the dads faces. And the excitement that the brothers would feel.
She sat on the window seat daydreaming out the window. Of the day, when finally, finally, she would hold her little girl. Or boy. Would it be a girl, she wondered. A pretty dark haired child with her fathers eyes and curls. Would she be a girly girl, all frills and lace and pretty dresses, or a tom-boy like she herself had been. Scraped knees and dirt smudges and fly-away hair. Or would it be a little boy. With a naughty smile and twinkling eyes. A charmer.
She shook her head, trying to dispel the images that shone so clearly in her mind. Its too soon to tell. You have to wait the week and then you’ll know. Don’t start to hope, she cautioned herself. It may not have happened yet. You’ll be disappointed. But still, the dreams refused to listen and spun on.
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