Lahat ng Kabanata ng THE MEET UP: Kabanata 41 - Kabanata 50

I felt the baby move for the first time at sixteen weeks.I’m sitting at my desk, working on engineering plans, when it happens. A flutter. Like butterfly wings against my insides. So faint I almost miss it.Then again. Stronger.“Amon!” I call out.He comes running from his studio, paint-covered hands held up. “What’s wrong?”“The baby. I felt the baby move.”His face transforms. “Really?”I guide his hand to my stomach. We wait. Nothing happens. The baby’s already learned to be shy.“It’s okay,” I say. “I felt it. It’s real.”“Of course it’s real. We’ve seen it on ultrasounds.”“No, I mean… it’s real to me now. Before, it was abstract. Now it’s a person. A person who moves.”That night, I lay in bed cataloging every sensation. Another flutter. A tiny kick. This small human announcing their existence.I think about Ayana. Wonder if she can see this somehow. Wonder if she knows there’s a new sibling coming.“I hope you’re proud of us,” I whispered to the darkness. “We’re still sad. Bu

M​y w‍ater breaks at 3 AM on No⁠vem⁠b‍er 14t⁠h, thirty-eight wee​ks exactly.‌I wake u⁠p wet and con​fused, then realize what’s ha​ppen‍ing, “Amon said," AM⁠ON. It’s ti⁠me⁠.”He shoots up l⁠ike h​e’s been elec‍trocu‍ted. “​Now‍? Like ri‍ght now?”“Y‍es, now!”W‌e’ve rehears‍ed this. We have bag​s pa‌ck​ed. We have a plan. But pl‌ans evap⁠orate when faced with ac‍tual labo‍r.Amon wakes Miriam, who’s sta‍ying with us for e⁠xactly t‌his r⁠eason.​ S‍he’ll watch David and Am⁠ara.‌ We‌ stumble to the car, me‍ cl‌utching my belly, him fumbling wi‍th key⁠s⁠.The​ contra‍ctions start in⁠ the car. Real ones​ this time‌, not false alarms. T‌hey⁠ steal my breath, turn my body into somet​hing I don’t control.“Breathe,” Amon sa⁠ys, drivi‌ng too fast. “Re​m‍emb‍er the br‌eat‌h‍ing.”“Fuck br‌eathing,” I gasp. “Just d​rive.”‌At Mu⁠lago Hospital, they​ wheel m​e straight to l⁠abor and‍ delivery‌. Ever‌ything happens fast—IV, mo‍ni⁠tors, Dr​. Nalwoga ap‍pearin‌g i⁠n scrubs.‌“‍L⁠et’s se​e‌ how far a

​Back at my job now, it’s been twelve weeks since the baby came. That much time has passed already — life moves fast after birth.Far from a daily grind — haven’t signed up for that yet. Yet here I am, handling small engineering jobs remotely, piece by piece shaping what work means again.Here sits me, running pipe flow numbers on paper, Zara breathing slowly in her crib beside me. Split down the middle - raising a child, building systems, each part tugging hard.Fresh out of sweatpants, I buttered up a crisp blouse — milk stains traded for something presentable. A video square waits, flickering with possibility. Brushed hair falls just right, almost familiar. Makeup settles into place, quiet and deliberate. This version of me hasn’t been seen in days. The call begins before I can rethink it.“Mrs. Kato, thanks for taking on this project,” the client says. “We’ve heard excellent things about your work with urban drainage systems.”“Thank you. I’m excited to be working again.”Specifi

Her first birthday slips close, November fourteenth creeping near. Still unprepared, hands fumbling time like dropped coins. Each day passes — slower now, yet somehow rushing. The date looms without permission. Not fixed. Not settled. Just arriving.One year feels too soon. Time rushes past like wind through fingers. Celebrating tugs at something heavy because Ayana didn’t reach double digits.“We don’t have to have a big party,” Amon says, reading my face.“No. We do. She deserves a celebration. I’m just… processing.”Zara's doing well now. The fact is, Ayana hasn’t been around for three years. Life moves on, whether you’re ready or not. Joy shows up right beside sorrow, strange how that works.A little gathering takes shape — just kin and dear ones nearby. This time, it’s Mama Grace who won’t let anyone else near the cake. While she stirs batter, Miriam strings up paper lanterns across the porch. My thoughts keep drifting, yet I pull them back, landing again on Zara, her moment.Tha

Floating through week twenty now, plus things feel different than last time with Zara — this one sits easier. A quiet joy slips in where worry used to be. This round, my body doesn’t fight me every step. Moments stretch longer, softer. Even small shifts hold meaning. Back then, everything pressed down hard. Now there’s space to breathe between thoughts. Smiles come without reason. The weight feels lighter somehow. Not perfect — but kinder.Sometimes it’s quiet. Still, the worry jumps up without warning. Fear hangs around, waiting. Yet joy shows up too, real and sudden. When Samuel moves, I smile now rather than freeze. My growing belly used to scare me — now it makes me stand a little taller.Finding my footing now. A small amount of medicine from Dr. Kamala eases the sharpness, keeps things steady but clear. When fear starts to rise, I see it coming — then slow down, stay present, let air move in and out. Not fighting anymore.“You’re doing remarkably well,” Dr. Kamala says during ou