As I talk, I can’t help but smile watching him learn. Big bad Liam Ruinsky sat like a schoolboy on his couch with wide brown eyes, taking notes in his phone, while I ramble on and on about getting an appointment with my ob-gyn, and about how far along it will be before we hear a heartbeat, or find out the gender, about swollen feet and cravings.

I also tell him about how fucking scared I am. Having Jack wasn’t all fun and games. Pregnancy and fibromyalgia don’t exactly mix. In fact, they are oil and water. I tried so hard to hide how much I was suffering last time so other mothers around me wouldn’t think I was going to be a terrible mum. But Liam is going to see it all. To see me not be able to stand unsupported for more than a few minutes, to see me shake because it’s taking that much out of me to do simple tasks like brushing my teeth. He will see me wearing sandals in rainy Seattle because I can’t bend over to tie my shoes, even before my belly starts to get in the way.

“And what about Jack?” he interjects. “If you’re in too much pain, should I be put on his pick-up list for emergencies?” He’s hesitant as he finishes his sentence.

I struggle to hold back the tears again.

This time I cry for twenty-five-year-old me who was pregnant for the first time with no family around her, who just wanted a hug and was instead kicked out of her cheating boyfriend’s apartment. I cry for Jack who has never had anyone other than me put him first or think about his well-being. I cry for our little baby, the one that is going to have their dad to help them no matter what happens between me and Liam.

I fall into his arms to cry as the realisation hits that until today I didn’t have anyone to hold me. But that isn’t the case any more.

Liam will catch me.

Chapter Eight

February

Ellis

Despite their purpose, hospitals have never made me feel safe and secure. From the bright white walls that shine a light on all the harsh realities of illness to the painfully uncomfortable chairs that punish you for needing them… it all creates an atmosphere that fills me with trepidation.

My body has been aching all day. The combination of chronic pain with the pains of early pregnancy is already prevalent without the added uncomfortable chairs. This wait is like a small torture on my body. It is a reminder of the things my body had to endure the last time I was pregnant, the things I’m going to have to face again.