You Stayed With Us

Anatomy Lesson Gone Wrong

Jennie's POV

I was almost at the end of my first trimester. Which meant:

1. I could sort of keep food down.
2. My boobs hurt less violently.
3. And everyone in this house had decided they were personally in charge of my uterus.

Especially Ella.

Every morning, she would walk into our bedroom like a tiny doctor doing rounds at 7 a.m. sharp, wearing a headband and holding her toy stethoscope.

"Still no bump," she would sigh dramatically, poking at my belly. "Are you sure there's a baby in there?"

I squinted at her from under the blanket. "Pretty sure. I threw up twice yesterday and cried because Cooper stole my sock."

Ella blinked. "Okay. That does sound like a baby's in there."

Lisa, meanwhile, was asleep next to me — or pretending to be — until Noah launched himself on top of her with a very serious, "Dada. Mommy ate it."

Lisa groaned. "Ate what, buddy?"

Noah patted my belly. "Da baby."

Lisa opened one eye, confused. "No, Mommy didn't eat the baby."

Nathan waddled in, dragging his blankie and looking horrified. "Mommy eat baby???"

"No, she did not—oh god," Lisa sat up so fast her hair stood in all directions. "No no no, guys. Mommy didn't eat the baby."

"She eated it," Noah nodded, so sure of himself.

"I SAW IT!" Nathan added. "She eat it las' night. In da chicken!"

Lisa looked at me with pure betrayal in her eyes. "Why do they think you ate it in the chicken?"

I covered my face. "I don't even know anymore. Maybe I said something about food going to my belly, and they connected the dots?"

Lisa attempted logic, which was the first mistake of the day.

"Okay," she began, voice calm, hands gesturing like she was teaching yoga, "babies grow in tummies, but not because we eat them. They grow in a special place called the womb—"

"WOOOOM?" Noah shouted.

Lisa smiled. "Yes. Womb."

"WOMB!" Nathan yelled back.

"COOPER HAS A WOMB?" Noah asked, eyes wide.

I choked on my own breath.

"NO—Cooper's a boy," Lisa said, already regretting this conversation. "He doesn't have a—he's a—he pees standing up, remember?"

"Mommy pee stand up?"

Lisa looked at me like, Help me.

"No, Mommy pees sitting down," I said, trying not to laugh.

"ELLA PEE SIDEWAYS?!"

Ella, who had reentered the room and was dramatically fluffing a pillow for me, turned and said, "I do not pee sideways, Nathan."

Nathan looked skeptical. "You weird."

"YOU'RE weird!" she snapped back.

Lisa got up and ran a hand through her hair. "Okay. Breakfast. Everyone out. Mommy needs peace. And tea."

"I want cereal!"

"I want toast!"

"I want banana!"

"I want Cooper!"

"No one's eating the dog!" Lisa cried.

Chaos resumed.

Later that day, while I was lying on the couch trying to finish one chapter of my book (a fantasy novel I'd been attempting to read since my last pregnancy), Ella climbed onto the armrest and dramatically pressed her ear to my stomach.
"I think I hear it breathing," she whispered.

"It's the lasagna," I whispered back. "I had leftovers."

She giggled. "Do you think it's a girl or boy?"

"I think it's a very small chaos gremlin with sticky fingers and big opinions," I muttered, brushing her hair back.

"Like Noah?"

"Exactly like Noah."

Lisa entered the living room carrying a plate of sliced apples like she was presenting an Olympic trophy. "Snack time."

The twins came barreling in from the hallway like tiny bulls, Cooper trotting behind them in full panic. They jumped on the couch, bumped into me, the apples went flying, and I groaned as one of them landed directly on my bladder.

"I think," I muttered to Lisa, "your sons are trying to kill me before I reach the second trimester."

Lisa laughed but it looked a little nervous. "I don't know how we're gonna survive four."

Noah sat on her lap and pointed at my belly again. "Is baby in there yet?"

"Yes," I nodded, smiling.

"In da chicken?" he whispered, like it was a scary secret.

Lisa wheezed.

"No," I said gently, "the baby is not in the chicken."

Nathan squinted at me. "You suuure?"

"I'm suuuuure."

Cooper barked once, jumped onto the couch, and laid his entire golden retriever body across my legs like a living pregnancy pillow.

Ella hugged my arm. "We're gonna be the best family ever."

I looked at all of them — chaos, mess, energy, noise — and smiled. Even if the baby didn't understand it yet... they were walking into the most ridiculous, loving family on the planet.

And yeah. I'd probably never go to the bathroom alone again.

But it was worth it.

Even if they all thought I ate it in the chicken.