Savannah
I stayed numb after the test. My body moved through each day, but I wasn’t in it.
Sometimes, I’d catch my hand resting on my stomach. A reflex, nothing intentional. I’d yank it away as soon as I noticed. I wasn’t ready to acknowledge it, not even in private.
But that didn’t stop the thought from returning.
How long could I keep pretending this wasn’t real? How long before it slipped out in some look, or breath, or silence I couldn’t explain?
I didn’t feel pregnant. I didn’t feel much at all. Some nights I lay flat, waiting for sleep, but it didn’t come. The next day I’d drag myself into smiles for the boys, laugh at their jokes, nod at their stories, act like my chest wasn’t getting tighter with every passing hour.
I hadn’t planned for this. I wasn’t equipped for it either.
And this wasn’t about two boys anymore. There was another child now. One I hadn’t spoken of. One I wasn’t sure I could speak of.
It might even be twins again. The thought turned my stomach.
The safe house
