Chapter 23%
I always thought love came after the pain, like a final reward for surviving.
But sometimes, love grows quietly. even when you think you’ve already received everything you deserve.
– = ཀྐ ཋཥ ཋ
It started with a flutter. I remember the day I found out–I was standing in the bathroom, holding the test with shaking hands, already preparing for disappointment. But then two lines appeared.
Clear. Bold. Undeniable. Pregnant.
I sat on the edge of the tub, stunned. And then the tears came–not the broken kind I’d known before, but something softer. Warmer. A joy that curled into my chest like sunlight on cold skin.
When I told Troy, he didn’t speak for a full minute. Then, he knelt in front of me, pressed his forehead to my belly, and whispered, “Thank you for choosing me to be a father.”
We spent that night just holding each other in silence, overwhelmed by the beauty of what was beginning!!
Pregnancy wasn’t always graceful. There were days my back ached, nights I couldn’t sleep, cravings that changed by the hour. I once cried. because Troy brought me the wrong kind of mango.
He didn’t complain. He learned how to cook all the weird combinations I wanted. Held my hair when the morning sickness got too real. Rubbed my swollen feet without me asking.
And every night, he spoke to my belly like it was already a person.
“Hi, little one. It’s Papa, he’d say, “Your mom is strong and fierce and probably going to be mad I ate the last of the cookies. But we love you already, okay?
Sometimes, I’d pretend to be asleep just so I could listen.
We turned the guest room into a nursery. Pale green walls, tiny cloud stickers, a crib Troy insisted on assembling himself even though he kept swearing at the instructions.
Lucas came by often–offering advice, telling old stones of when I was a baby. His hands trembled when he held the tiny onesies.) “I never got to do this right the first time,” he told me. “But I want to now, if you’ll let me.”
I hugged him without hesitation.
Gregory sent a letter. Just a note: For your child, may their life be softer than yours. Enclosed was a hand–stitched baby blanket I recognized from my mother’s old photographs
I didn’t reply. But I didn’t throw it away either.
When the contractions came, they didn’t feel real.
Just pressure at first. Then pain. Waves of it, sharp and rhythmic.
es in the rush. I was laughing through the pain because he was more
Troy fumbled with my hospital bag, nearly forgetting his shoes in panicked than I was.
In the delivery room, I lost all sense of time.}
I screamed. I cried. I told Troy I was never doing this again
And then–Acry
The room faded into silence, save for the sound of life
They laid her on my chest–warm, tiny, pink–and everything inside me shattered and reformed in an instant!
She had my lips. Troy’s eyes. And a quiet little sigh that made my heart forget every bad thing that had ever happened to me.
“Welcome home,” whispered, holding her close
We named her Emilia Grace!
Our little miracle. Troy barely let her out of his sight for the first few days. He was terrified he’d hold her wrong, bathe her wrong, breathe wrong around her.
He cried the first time she grabbed his finger.
Lucas cried the first time she slept in his arms.
And me?!
I watched them and thought–this is what healing looks like.
Not grand gestures.
Just tiny fingers wrapped around a father’s thumb. Quiet nights with lullabies and rocking chairs. Paintings I made while Emilia napped on my chest.
The gallery stayed open, though I stepped back from curating. I filled the space with soft, new pieces–works about motherhood, rebirth, peace. Visitors would walk through and say they could feel the joy in the brushstrokes.
I hoped so
Because it was real.
Sometimes I’d wake up in the middle of the night just to check on her. Just to see her chest rise and fall, to run my fingers through her wisps of dark hair.
Troy would find me and wrap his arms around my waist, chin resting on my shoulder
“She’s okay, he’d whisper.
And I’d nod. “I know. I just never thought I’d have this.”
He’d press a kiss to my temple and remind me, “You do now.”
We didn’t need anything else.
Not forgiveness from ghosts. Not closure from the past
Just us. Just this
A house filled with laughter. A baby who giggled when the wind touched her face. A man who never stopped choosing me, even when i couldn’t choose myself!
Peace isn’t loud.
It doesn’t knock on the door screaming, I’m here.!
It tiptoes in.
And before you know it, it’s lying beside you in the dark, wrapped in soft blankets, breathing quietly.”
Peace is love
And love, finally, felt like home.
