Jake puts his hand on my belly, too. These days, my stomach seems to be a public attraction. Even a random old lady in the grocery store rubbed it yesterday. Maybe everyone knows something that I don’t, and they are all being granted three wishes. “He kept his mama up all night last night, dancing circles in there, the little booger,” I say.
Sam starts whispering to my belly something about joining forces to annoy me and Jake, but I tune out when I feel Jake’s eyes on my face. I turn to look at him, and he and I stare at each other, lost in the same thought: I can’t believe this is our life.
“I love you,” he mouths.
“I love you more.”
TWO MONTHS LATER
Jonathan Timothy Broaden came into the world this morning around 2 AM. He and I are both perfectly healthy, but pray for Jake because I think he might be losing his mind. The poor man has cried more in the past 24 hours than I thought possible. I allow it, though, because I know he has so much love pumping through his heart that he can’t keep it contained. I love him. I love my daughter. And I love our son. And of course, I love our dogs.
I don’t think this life of mine can get any better.
Except it does when I spot Jake walking into the hospital room with a chocolate-chip muffin.
THE END