Invisible String

6

Every time I put my phone down, there’d be a fresh wave of “baby must haves” from my mom friends. It was like clockwork. They were all the same types of products—swaddles, bottles, wipes—but each swore by their own favorite brand. One would rave about Brand A and say Brand B was garbage, and then another would say the exact opposite.

Honestly? I felt totally clueless. How was I supposed to know which was actually good? It all just blurred together, and I kind of wished I could just press a button and have someone magically send me the right stuff. Instead, I was stuck scrolling through endless opinions, feeling more overwhelmed by baby gear than excited.

Travis caught me shaking my head at my phone and gently pulled it out of my hands. “They aren’t you, Tay,” he said, his voice firm but soft. “You know what’s best for your baby. I don’t care if they’re your best friends—don’t let them get in your head.”

He was right. I knew he was right. So I let him flip my phone over and place it face-down on the table like it was some kind of cursed object we needed to avoid. I leaned back with a sigh, letting the moment settle.

“How about we order some food?” he asked, brushing a hand across my thigh. “What’s baby girl feeling today?”

I paused, thinking about it, and then looked up at him with a sheepish grin. “Subway.”

He groaned, dramatically tossing his head back. “Taylor. You know you’re not supposed to.”

The full name. Oof. He was serious.

“Travis,” I said, clasping my hands together in mock prayer. “Your daughter wants it. It won’t kill us. Please?”

Of course he caved. He always did. He grumbled while placing the order, but he made sure it was just a six-inch and added a soup on the side so I wouldn’t still be hungry. He even threw in some cookies "for the baby," but we both knew better.

I practically moaned after the first bite. “Oh my God, Travis. This is so good. It’s exactly what I wanted. I could cry.”

Travis just shook his head with a dramatic sigh and leaned back on the couch, watching me like I was some kind of science experiment. “Just don’t tell your doctor I let you eat that,” he muttered, but his lips were twitching.

I smirked, holding up a piece of the sandwich like a trophy. “Trav, it’s not illegal to eat lunch meat while pregnant. Just not recommended. There’s a difference.”

To really drive it home, I whipped out my phone and texted both my mom and Kylie:
“Did you eat lunch meat while pregnant?”

My mom answered within minutes:
“Yes. It was the 90s. No one cared about anything back then.”

I laughed out loud reading that one. Then Kylie’s message came through:
“I didn’t with the first two… until I gave up and had it constantly with the last two girls.”

I showed Travis both messages with a smug little smile on my face. “See? I’m not alone. Baby girl and I are totally fine.”

He chuckled and leaned over to kiss my forehead. “You win this one. But I’m still making you eat some fruit after.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Fruit? After this masterpiece?” I held up the last bite of my sandwich like it deserved a standing ovation.

“Yes,” he said firmly, standing up and walking toward the kitchen. “If I’m giving in to Subway, you’re giving in to strawberries.”

I sighed dramatically, finishing the sandwich with a satisfied hum and stretching out on the couch. “You act like I’m not growing a whole human or something.”