Page 103 of Living for Truth
We spent Thanksgiving with Morgan’s family where Iris made the best turkey I’ve ever had.
Christmas morning was just the three of us exchanging presents and eating crepes, then we spent Christmas evening with his family, playing board games in matching pajamas.
New Year’s Eve was a week ago, and we stayed up until midnight watchingScooby-Dooand eating snacks to our hearts’ content.
I haven’t heard from my mom much since Jake’s farewell, but I’ve been writing to Jake every week.
He hates his mission. His companion has been instigating physical altercations, and he wants to come home. He’s spoken to the mission president, and all he tells Jake is he should have more faith. The companion isn’t getting reprimanded for hurting Jake, and Jake won’t supply any other information than a vague explanation of what happened. I hate not knowing more, but it’s frowned upon by the church to complain about anything when you’re on your mission, so I doubt Jake will elaborate.
Jake doesn’t explicitly say in his letters he’s starting to doubt the church, but that’s the vibe I’m getting from him.
I wouldn’t be surprised if he came home early, and I don’t blame him.
Morgan started the process of getting full custody of Aly in September, and one day in November, a courier brought us a yellow envelope. Inside was Whitney’s voluntary termination of her parental rights, signed and notarized, along with a letter to Aly and a letter to Morgan.
We read Aly’s letter first to make sure it was safe for her to read, and it was almost the same as the letter to Morgan. They were short and simple. Whitney doesn’t want to be dragged through court or pay the legal fees, and she doesn’t want the responsibility that comes with being amom. She thought it would be better for everyone if she wasn’t involved anymore.
Morgan seemed unsurprised at his letter, but he was shocked Whitney terminated her parental rights—especially on her own. We’ve barely discussed next steps, and I’d never dream of offering to adopt Aly, even though, in my heart, it’s what I want.
I want her to see me as a mother figure and someone she can rely on. Someone who loves her as she is and wants to watch her succeed. Even if I don’t legally adopt her, I hope one day she can see me that way.
We gave Aly the letter shortly before Christmas when she asked if her mom would be coming around for the holiday. She took the letter to her room and didn't come out for two hours. I asked Morgan multiple times if we should check on her, but he was adamant she needs to process this on her own.
Eventually she came down, her eyes puffy and red from crying, and told us what her mom wrote.
It still makes me mad when I think about how easily Whitney dismissed Aly.
Morgan started taking her to a therapist so she could talk to an unbiased third party, and it seems to be helping, but I know it will take time for her to feel okay again.
Morgan’s family has been extra attentive with Aly to make up for her mom abandoning her.
Iris, Sarah, Alice, Olivia, and Asha have planned a baby shower for this weekend because I’ll be thirty-six weeks and could go into labor any time, and when they asked if they should invite my mom, I told them no.
Part of me wonders if it’s a shitty thing for me to do, but another part of me is proud of myself for sticking to my boundaries and holding my own.
Morgan and I have had long discussions about what we’re going to do about childcare and my job, and I think we’ve come up with a solid plan.
I have three months of paid leave, and then I’ll continue to work full-time, and Morgan is going to ask Olivia if she’d be willing to take over more of the flower shop’s daily operations. Morgan’s mom has offered to help watch the twins so I can work, and I couldn’t be more grateful to have everyone’s support.
Morgan moved his home office downstairs, and we turned the room upstairs into the nursery. Kendall, Morgan, and Axel spent a long weekend painting and assembling all the furniture, so the only thing left to do is organize the thousands of clothes we have and wash all of the bedding.
I’ve been feeling off for the last two days. This morning I’ve felt so nauseated I haven’t been able to eat more than a few saltine crackers. I’ve been having Braxton Hicks contractions, but they haven’t been consistent or painful. I have so much anxiety about losingthese babies that my mind automatically jumps to something being wrong.
If I have the babies now at thirty-six weeks, they’d probably have to be in the NICU for a while, but they would most likely survive, and that’s the only thing keeping me from rushing to the hospital.
Iris and Morgan’s sisters refuse to let me help with the setup of the baby shower and have insisted I sit on the couch and relax.
I’m not used to just… sitting and waiting for an event to start. I’m always the one helping to get everything ready.
I’m also not used to the men helping out, but Kendall, Axel, and Morgan are all happily setting up the decorations and moving furniture around. Aly’s the one telling them where things should go.
I don’t know how it is in other families, but in mine, the men aren't allowed at the baby or bridal showers. Morgan scoffed and said there was no way he was missing a party for his babies, so he, Kendall, and his dad will be hanging out, too. I think Justin and Cooper will be here as well, but they’ve been tasked with getting last minute utensils and ice.
The urge to pee hits me like a truck—a fun side effect of growing two humans. I stand from the couch, start walking to the bathroom, but then I feel the gush of wetness soak my pants, and I gasp.
“Hannah? Are you good?” Morgan jumps off the stool and comes over to see the puddle of liquid under my feet. “Do we need to go get you a change of clothes?” he speaks softly, soothing me because he thinks I peed my pants.
“Hospital.”
