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“No, I think I’d be embarrassed. And, I think they might be embarrassed, too.”
“They love you. They won’t be embarrassed.”
“I don’t know.”
“And you know you won’t be able to keep it a secret for long. Especially since the doc gave you medicine for the nausea.” He patted her thin tummy. “I can’t wait until you start getting all fat.”
“I’ll tell you right now if you ever call me fat, you’ll be sorry.”
“Okay. I promised to call you skinny the whole time, even if you look like a whale.” His adoring smile brought on another surge of tears. “What’s wrong now?”
“I don’t know...”
He scooped her into his lap. “This is just hormones making you weepy.”
“But... What happens if our baby has something wrong with him?”
“Him?” He smiled. “Do you think we’re having a boy? Maybe I might like a little girl.” He hugged her close, kissing her hair. “And we’ll love our baby no matter what. Right? And we can’t change anything by worrying about it.”
“But what if I have a miscarriage? The doctor said it would probably happen.” A single tear rolled down her cheek, and he wiped it off with his thumb as he caressed her jaw.
He chuckled a little. “You know, two hours ago, we didn’t even know we wanted a baby. And now you’re crying because we might not have one.”
“I know, it’s silly—“
“No, it’s not silly.” He pressed his lips to her forehead. “If we lose this baby, maybe we can figure out another way to have one. We could even adopt.”
“Okay... A baby...” She gave him a weepy smile. “But it’s a secret. We won’t tell anybody, right?”
“We’ll do whatever you want. But won’t you start showing soon? The doctor said the ultrasound showed you’re already at least seven weeks—she could see a heartbeat. And she said you could be as much as ten weeks according to when the nausea started.”
“I don’t know. I didn’t show very early with the girls. I can probably hide it until I’m about sixteen weeks.”
Steven’s face fell. “Oh really? That long?”
“You want to tell people?”
“Of course I do—I’m excited.”
“I’ll make a deal with you. If you’ll wait until I’m starting to show, I’ll let you be the one to tell everyone.”
“Hmmm. And perhaps we could add something else to the deal?”
“What’s that?”
“I think we should keep you in bed as much as possible.”
“No. The doctor specifically said bed rest wasn’t necessary, and it wouldn’t prevent a miscarriage anyway.”
“Who said anything about resting?” He began to nuzzle her neck.
“Steven,” she squeaked, and they both dissolved into laughter.
“What are we going to tell everyone for now?” asked Anne.
“I don’t know. You’re the one who looked up the differential diagnosis when you thought it was stomach cancer.” Then his face
was suddenly stern. “And by the way, we’re not through with the discussion about why you kept that from me for so long.”
