Page 93 of Burden to Bear

I shook my head. “I honestly don’t know. Months ago, I told him I wouldn’t be reaching out to him at all regarding the baby, that it was on him to prove he wanted to be involved. Obviously, he showed up in a big way roughly a month ago, but I haven’t heard a thing from him since. He could still be bitter about the situation, or he might not be interested in being involved at all. I figure that when the day comes that I go into labor, I’ll call Susie. She can relay the information for me. What Todd will do from that point forward is a mystery to me.”

Brock reached for my hand again. “I think you’re doing the best you can with the situation. And if I’m honest, you’ve given the guy a lot of grace. It’s admirable you want to give him the opportunity to be involved in naming the baby, but I also don’t think you need to feel bad about giving him or her a name without his input if he chooses not to show up.”

I smiled at him. “Thank you for always making me feel better about things that I’m struggling with, especially when it comes to making decisions about the baby. I don’t think you understand how much of the heaviness I used to feel at the beginning of this year has been lifted from my shoulders because of you.”

His thumb stroked over my knuckles. “I’m always going to do what I can to help you, Mia. I love the way I feel when I’m around you, especially when you’re happy. So, whatever it takes to keep you that way, I’m going to do it.”

He really was the best guy in the world. I still hadn’t quite wrapped my head around the fact that I was so lucky to have not only met him, but also to have him want me the way that he did.

We returned our attention to our food, sharing bites with one another and enjoying the last few hours of our mini vacation together. When I could no longer fit another bite inside and Brock had finished what I couldn’t, he asked, “How do you want to spend the rest of the night once we get home?”

“I’m utterly wiped out, so all I want to do is go home, shower, and curl up on the couch with you. Movies, dinner, and cuddling would be the perfect end to our trip.”

Brock grinned at me. “I can absolutely give you that.”

I hadn’t expected anything less from him.

And with the rest of our day planned out, Brock paid the bill, so we could get back on the road, head home, and enjoy a relaxing evening in before we both had to go back to work tomorrow morning.

It was Saturday, three weeks after my impromptu beach trip with Brock, and subsequently four days past my due date when it happened.

I’d grown incredibly antsy over the last week or so, wondering and waiting for it to happen. Between the Braxton-Hicks contractions, the nesting urge, and the lack of comfort at night when attempting to sleep, it was safe to say I was no longer interested in waiting to meet my baby.

I was willing to do anything to get this baby here, and Brock was happy to oblige, especially when I told him about sex being one of the things that could help bring on labor. When I woke up this morning, though, and it still hadn’t happened, I begged Brock to go on a walk with me after breakfast.

Always wanting to please me, Brock made breakfast for us and happily shuffled out the door with me.

We’d walked quite a distance from the house and had just turned around to make our way back when I felt the trickle. It was slow at first, and initially, I thought I was dealing with a full bladder that had a baby pressing down on it. But that slow trickle turned into a gush. The sight and sound of it were unmistakable. Even Brock knew what was happening.

“It’s time, isn’t it? The baby’s coming?” he asked, his hand still holding mine.

Nodding, I said, “I think so.”

“Are you okay to walk? Do you want me to carry you back? If you want to wait here, I’ll run back and get the truck,” he offered.

I shook my head. “No. No, I’m okay to walk for now. I guess those contractions I’ve been feeling all day today were the real deal.”

“We’re supposed to time them now, aren’t we?”

“It probably wouldn’t be a bad idea.”

Brock and I walked for a few minutes back toward our homes, and two contractions later, I needed to stop.

“Oh, wow. This is getting more intense,” I said, holding tighter to his hand. When the contraction passed, I stood up straight again. “Okay, we can keep going.”

“Are you sure? I really don’t mind carrying you.”

It meant the world to me that Brock was so accommodating and willing to do whatever he could to help me. “I’m positive. I think the more I move, the more it’ll help things progress anyway.”

“Well, at least your bag is packed, and we’re ready to go,” he reasoned.

I needed to stop two more times to breathe through my contractions before we made it back to the houses. Brock was focused, slightly nervous, but overwhelmingly determined. While he grabbed the bags we’d packed for the hospital, I snatched up my purse and my phone. We didn’t need to worry about the car seat, because Brock had already installed it into my car for me.

When I met him at the door, Brock asked, “Are you ready?”

“All set.”

On the way to the hospital, I made two phone calls. My parents had been on standby—I’d called and talked to them every day since my due date arrived. Everyone was eager to meet the baby.

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