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“Whatever is fine.” She says warmly.

“You sure?” I ask.

“Yeah.”

I head over to the kitchen and start looking through the fridge and pantry for ingredients to make dinner.

Locating everything I need, I start making street tacos for dinner.

Elsie sits on her usual island stool and watches as I get into the rhythm of cooking.

When dinner is ready, I bring everything over to the dining room table and lay out our feast. Elsie follows with plates and napkins as we both settle in at the table to eat in comfortable silence.

After both of us demolish several tacos, Elsie breaks the silence.

“I have a doctor’s appointment tomorrow if you want to come,” she says. “We can find out the gender if you want.”

“Wasn’t that appointment supposed to happen at your 20-week check-up?” I ask.

“Yeah, but it was right before you were about to leave again, and I just couldn’t mentally handle it.”

“Why didn’t you tell me? I would have gone with you.” I say.

“I know. I know...” She pauses in a way I don’t like. “I keep thinking that you’re going to change your mind.”

“Elsie...”

“No. Hear me out.” She sighs. “You’re 29. You have so much life ahead of you, and I just keep feeling like I’ve trapped you in this.”

I sit quietly as she composes herself, my heart thundering in my chest, and I desperately want to interrupt to reassure her.

“I keep worrying that you’re just being a good sport about this and doing the right thing, kind of thing. I worry you don’t actually want this. That you don’t...” She trails off, heavy words left unsaid. “If you don’t want this, I’d let you go, you know.”

My jaw clenches at her words. “Stop that. Stop giving me an out and expecting me to leave. I’m not going anywhere.” I reach for her hand and lace our fingers together. “Never.”

June 24— 25 Weeks 2 Days, Acorn Squash

The soft eggshell on the walls of Elsie’s doctor’s office, combined with the oversized canvas prints of parents smiling with their kids, has nerves balling in my chest. The moment we entered the building, all of the ease and comfort of our morning routine together fled, and now I’m just anxious.

Every time I accompany her to an appointment, this dread takes over. Thoughts that something could be wrong with my precious ciruela azucarada swirl through my head like a hurricane gaining speed. My Sugar Plum is everything, including their mother. None of them are founded in reality, but the anxiety is still there.

I blame the creepy smiling faces on the walls.

When the nurse calls Elsie back, we both go through the regular routines of her appointments before being left alone in the patient room.

Thankfully, this one just has framed pictures of babies on the walls.

“Stop with the foot tapping, Marshall. It’s going to be fine,” Elsie says calmly.

“How do you know?” I ask, rising from the chair where I sat to pace the room.

“I just do. Now, sit.” She commands, and I quickly lower myself back into the seat.

Thankfully, it doesn’t take long for the doctor to come by and begin going through the things they need from Elsie, but I stay in my corner, silently panicking all the while.

I think back to my conversation last night with Elsie, how she’s convinced that I’m going to abandon her and our child.

I grew up in a large family with my mamá, papá, and sisters. I know what it is to be surrounded by love. To have the stability that comes with having strong familial relationships. Even after losing my dad, it made our family stronger. We grew closer together. We leaned on each other, just like I want her to do now.

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