EIGHTY-EIGHT

“It will – It will never come to it,” I muttered. I didn’t fully understand what he meant by choosing me before our child but he seemed to threaten my baby. Would he try something if my symptoms got worse?

“I hope it doesn’t,” he responded in a quieter tone with a forlorn expression. “Are you hungry?” He asked and that was the end of the conversation about our unborn child.

I wished I could say it didn’t prick me how he dismissed the subject as if it wasn’t something life-changing. I didn’t want to fault him, knowing he had issues of his own he hadn’t dealt with and he may be unwilling to have a child because of said issues, but I was tired, cranky and thus upset. My brain told me he was supposed to be happy and since he wasn’t, I got even crankier.

“Is that all you have to say?” I asked with ill-concealed annoyance. “I tell you I am pregnant but you ask if I’m hungry?”

“What more am I to say?” He asked with narrowed eyes.

“We’ll have a baby soon! What do you mean by what more are you