Page 65 of Before I Loved You

“I have, and I’ll be displaying a few pieces.” I look at the canvas beside me. “This being one of them.”

She claps her hands together. “Marvelous!” A student in the front of the room calls for her attention. “Let me know if you need any assistance with anything. I look forward to seeing all your final pieces at the show,” she calls over her shoulder as she steps toward the front of the room.

Grabbing my brush, I hesitantly scan my work.

I actually did it.

For the first time, I painted with color. And it wasn’t nearly as scary as I thought it would be.

If anything, it was liberating.

Tilting my head to the side, I can’t help but notice that my painting looks similar to someone else’s style.

But who…

That’s when it hits me.

My mom.

It looks exactly like something she would paint. Maybe all those years of watching her paint for hours are starting to come out in my work. And I couldn’t be happier about that.

My phone alarm interrupts me, reminding me I have places to be.

Quickly, I pack up my supplies, glancing one last time over my shoulder at my first painting with color, and I know there’s one man responsible for bringing color back into my life, even if he didn’t do it intentionally.

He did.

And I can never thank him enough for the gift he’s given me.

* * *

“Everything looks good.” Dr. Martin enters the room, reviewing the charts in her hand. “Your blood work is excellent, and from the ultrasound results, I can confirm the baby’s heartbeat is strong. It’s exactly what we want to see at this stage in your pregnancy.”

For the first time in weeks, relief hits me. “Thank God.” I let out a deep breath. “Looks like I’m not a total failure.”

Dr. Martin frowns. “Why would you think that?”

I shrug. “I don’t know. I’m just worried I’m going to fu… I mean, mess up.” I run my fingers through my hair, pushing it behind my ear. “I wasn’t prepared for this and have no idea what I’m doing.”

She places her charts on the counter and sits across from me, crossing one leg over the other. “You know, I don’t think any woman is ever actually prepared to be a mother. No matter how many books you read, videos you watch, or pieces of advice you receive, something will catch you off guard, and you’ll think you’re a failure when you’re not. Believe me, I have three of my own. They’re all adults now, but man, when they were babies…” She shakes her head, laughing. “Let’s just say I had my hands full and had no idea what I was doing. But because I gave it my all, night and day, they turned into three beautiful, intelligent young women. And I know the little one inside you will be very lucky to have you as a mom.”

“How do you know that?” I ask, the tip of my nose stinging.

“Because you’re worried about failing, and that shows how much you care about your baby. You’re trying to do everything right when not everything will have clear cookie-cutter instructions for you.” She smiles warmly.

I nod. “I guess you’re right. There really is no exact manual on how to raise a baby, and I would know. I’ve spent hours trying to find it online.”

She chuckles softly. “Tell me, what have you been doing to prepare?”

I sigh, fidgeting with the hem of my shirt. “I’ve been taking my prenatal vitamins and keeping up with my appointments here. I’ve ordered everything for the nursery, but I’m just waiting for it to be delivered soon, and I just signed up for a birthing class that starts after the holidays.” I glance up at her, nervous that I’m forgetting something.

“See, you’re doing great,” she exclaims. “Have you had any issues with anything? Any side effects?”

“Well,” I start. “My back, feet, and even my breasts have started to become sore. Sometimes, certain foods give me heartburn that normally wouldn’t. I’m tired…a lot. And then I had that week of nonstop morning sickness. But I haven’t been sick since then. All in all, nothing I can’t manage.”

She smiles. “Certain symptoms will come and go. Others will just become more prominent throughout the pregnancy. Everything you mentioned is normal and nothing to be alarmed over.” She purses her lips and then asks, “And I assume you’re doing all this yourself?”

I swallow the lump in my throat and nod. “Yes. It’s just me.”

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