It doesn’t stop being scary. In fact, now that Grace is invested in this pregnancy it’s more overwhelming than ever. She finds herself constantly thinking about baby-proofing, about whichbooks they’ll use to teach her to read, about college funds, and by the time Hannah is in her eighth month Grace just wants to wrap her in bubble wrap and have her carried everywhere on a sedan chair. She wakes up every morning curled protectively around her wife, with their tangled fingers resting over Amy.
Grace is grateful that Hannah is a deep sleeper. She’s developed the habit of waking just before dawn and talking to her daughter while Hannah is still dead to the world.
“Hey Amy,” she murmurs, stroking Hannah’s stomach as the sky slowly turns from purple to red.
“It’s your mom again. The cool one, not the dorky one. How you doing in there?”
She half expects Amy to kick in response and laughs a little.
“Okay, the slightly less dorky mom. You’re getting so big, kiddo! Your mom keeps complaining that you’re making her feel like a walrus, but don’t listen. She’s beautiful and she loves you like crazy. We both do.”
Grace glances up at the window as the first soft beams of morning light creep through.
“Do you see that? Your mom told me something once and I can’t think of a better promise to make to you. Every day the sun rises, Amy, is a day I will love you. I promise.”
Amy does kick, then, and Grace laughs as Hannah grunts and frowns in response.
“If you’re half as adorable as your mom, we are in so much trouble,” she observes.
-
Three weeks from Hannah’s due date they start putting furniture together. Mamrie comes over and the two of them install Hannah in the easy chair to ‘supervise’ while they try and figure out the instructions.
“Where’s the screwdriver?” Grace asks, holding two pieces together with one hand. Hannah kicks it over and Grace attempts to screw the pieces together.
“Shit,” she says.
“This is like trying to reading fucking hieroglyphics!” Mamrie exclaims.
“Guys!” Hannah scolds, covering her belly protectively, “Did you not read that article I sent you? Amy can hear you swearing!”
“Sorry babe,” Grace says distractedly. “This screwdriver is the wrong size. Where’s your toolkit?”
“In the closet, the top shelf on the left,” Hannah replies and Grace goes to find it.
“Hannah, it’s not here!” She yells and hears Hannah groan in response. After a moment Hannah appears in the doorway.
“I said left, Grace,” she says sarcastically and reaches up to grab the heavy box. Grace grabs her wrist.
“Nope! Pregnant ladies do not lift things. Go sit back down.”
“I’m not an invalid, Grace,” Hannah grumbles.
“No, you’re carrying precious cargo. Now sit your adorable ass down!”
Hannah screws up her face in an effort not to smile and Grace leans down and kisses her, stroking her belly softly.
“You two better not be making out in there!” Mamrie yells from the other room and Hannah giggles into the kiss.
“You look beautiful today,” Grace says conversationally, “the sexiest pregnant walrus I’ve ever seen.”
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