“She’s fat.”
“She’s not fat. She’s growing my brother or sister.”
“And that’s why she’s fat.”
I peer through my legs at Emma and Finn debating over my body while I’m in my final yoga pose.
“She’s right, Finn. I’m fat. One big Butterball turkey of fat.”
“Emma Jane,” Jules hollers from the kitchen. “What did I tell you?”
“She’s not fat. She’s pregnant.”
Finn gives her a victorious “I told you so” head jerk. I go down to my knees and roll over on my back, exhausted from yoga and being nine months pregnant. Max told me there was no way in hell I’d be able to keep up with yoga all nine months, hence why I’m about to die.
I take a silent moment to smooth my hands over my belly. I was told conceiving and then being able to carry a baby to full-term would be impossible due to the trauma of being beaten, taking most of the brutal kicks to my stomach which caused internal damage and led to surgeries and scarring around my uterus. Not one inch of the flames touched me that horrific night. Cody was my shield.
“Get your busy butts in here and help finish the pies,” Jules hollers in her mean mom voice. “Let Kate have her moment of zen or whatever.”
I smile at the kids’ defeated looks. Emma hops right up, leaving her disaster of Legos behind. Finn chews on his bottom lip, debating his next move. He reaches for a block then scrunches his tiny fist together.
“Damn, tacos.” He huffs and stands, joining his cousin.
She’s actually his aunt, but we’ve settled on them being cousins. We moved in with Jessie and Jules during the months I spent recovering. I pushed my body back, not wasting one second. I never finished out the school year teaching but still spend plenty of hours volunteering.
And even though it’s winter and there’re feet of snow outside, Max and Jessie are working on a house. Max picked his favorite spot on the farm and poured a foundation. Until the house is finished, we are living with Jessie and Jules. I have to admit, I have it made with Jules taking care of us. It’s going to be a rude awakening when I’m in charge of my own household.
We made a family decision to homeschool Finn and Emma. They both were being held back in the public school system, at no fault to anyone. Having essentially a classroom of two students is amazing and fun. We go at our own pace and even take long road trips learning about science and geography.
The chaos in the kitchen grows louder. I hear Jessie and Max enter. And then before I know it, Max stands above me.
“Rough day?” He smirks, knowing damn well I hate yoga at this point.
“Shut your mouth when you’re talking to me.”
He reaches out a hand, and I take it. It’s always my favorite part of the day when my hand is wrapped in his.
“Go shower, Jessie. Brady is picking up Cody and then heading here for dinner.”
“Then presents,” Emma squeals.
“Come wash my back,” Jessie responds to Jules.
Both kids squeal out their disgust, gaining a chuckle from Jessie.
Cody is still healing from his burns. He tends to crawl into himself. The bar is on the verge of closing, and he can’t seem to muster up one ounce of giving a shit. The thing is his family, us, won’t allow it. He gets dragged to everything he can handle. Hell, he even showed some excitement at Emma and Finn’s soccer game this fall. Well, that was until they were both politely asked to leave their team due to their lack of interest and Emma’s knack for starting arguments.
As Max helps me to my feet, the twinkle of the Christmas tree catches my attention. It’s truly the most magical time of the year. We’ve been blessed beyond belief. I used to think I was lucky. This, everything around me, has nothing to do with luck. I catch the twinkle of the angel on the top of the tree and repeat the same prayer I say every day for Cody and his soul.
“You stink.” Max sniffs my neck. “Come wash my back.”
I slap his ass as he leads me up the stairs to his childhood bedroom. My due date is tomorrow. I have the man I love. A son. A family who is crazy and amazing. I have everything a woman could wish for except my little girl. I rub the miracle inside of me. My swollen belly is proof that anything can happen. I wasn’t supposed to be able to get pregnant again. They told me I’d never carry a baby to full term.
And here I am.