Birthday girl

I heard the car door slam, and immediately looked at the clock. It was 09:30 and my husband had returned from his night shift. I started to feel panic rise in my throat. I was still in my pyjamas and not ventured out of bed or the bedroom. The plate from my dinner last night was still on a tray on the floor next to the bed. Yesterdays clothes were scattered small sofa in the corner of the room and there was a pile of unread parenting magazines by the door – the place was a mess. I was tired, tearful and 20 weeks pregnant. I shuddered to think about what he might make of the kitchen, the dishes unwashed, the pizza packaging still on the countertop. Was I going to make a terrible mother? I was only halfway through the pregnancy and I was scared already. This life within me had been kicking for the past few days reminding me the the future rushing towards me.

My husband of course was excited – from the moment that we both sat and looked a the double blue lines forming before our eyes. Since then he had had babies on the brain – looking at strollers, cots and even planning the colour scheme for the second bedroom/nursery. He was a an only child and was looking to forward to filling our marital home with children. As for me? If I did not think about the drama and pain of childbirth – then I was quite excited at the thought of holding my newborn baby in my arms.

And why my tears? I do not know why? Hormones? Maybe…

I heard my husbands footsteps as he climbed the stairs. I could just pretend to be asleep but I felt guilty because normally I would greet him at the door and would have breakfast – pancakes with maple syrup,bacon, mushroom and eggs already for him. But not this morning. This morning when the alarm clock went off and I just could not. Could not get up, could face the thought of the same routine. Why? I do not know.

My husband poked his head around the bedroom door and whispered “Jennie are you OK?” I decided to face the moment, “I’m OK” I whispered back. “In that case are you ready for your surprise?” With that he pushed open the door. He was carrying a tray with a vase of red tulips (my favourite) and breakfast! “Happy Birthday, my lovely”.

Yes it was my birthday. My husband, the angel



One Comment Add yours

  1. Written for a daily prompt or weekly writing challenge about a year ago but never posted. Found it today and decided to upload!

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