mine {h.s.} | {b3}

CHAPTER THREE

— CHAPTER THREE —

september, year one.

The first time that I ever saw Harry have an asthma attack was on the nineteenth of September.

September had been a busy month for the both of us. Starting the month off, we went to Zana's fourth birthday party. For the first time, the party was more overrun with other kids than adults. Apparently, the little girl is a hot commodity in her pre-school class. All of her friends were very eager to come over and spend her very special day with her. Harry and I stayed off to the side with Fitzy; Fitzy, who had been grumbling about the lack of alcohol allowed in the function. Harry made him smile when he procured a flask. Neither said anything when I refused to drink. I had claimed that I had lost the coin toss and was deigned to be the driver for the evening. The explanation made sense.

When I was driving us home from the party, Harry's fingers reached out and splayed on the expanse of my stomach. Four months and still growing, we are both aware of the fact that we are running out of time that I can realistically hide this pregnancy. Hide isn't exactly the right word. I've come to terms with the pregnancy. I've grown to love the baby inside of me as an extension of my own heart. But there is a part of me that fears giving that piece of me to other people. Suddenly, this pregnancy will become real and when it is is real it runs the risk of losing, too. Losing in the same way that I had lost Harriet.

My stomach is just getting to the point where it is too big for Harry's hand to be able to reach from end to end. He loves to sneak his hand under the material of my shirt and just stroke the skin there. He can't get enough of my pregnant stomach. I'd be lying if I said I didn't find it attractive.

On that ride home, I said what we had both been thinking: "this can't stay a secret much longer."

He nodded his head and wet his lips. He likes to take his time before speaking, especially when about the baby. "Are you ready to tell people?" The question was careful and was coupled with his hand stroking lovingly across my stomach.

"Soon."

"Then we'll tell people soon." That had been the end of the conversation for the time being. We continued along with our secret doctors appointments in which he gives me the ultrasound and I monitor them. We continued to shove me in oversized clothing. We continued to drive out in the middle of the night to buy whatever cravings I had. Harry even began to eat the cravings along with me as an act of solidarity. An act that I would never subject him to if he weren't willing. I think I was shocked to find how willing he was. How he would never coil up his nose in disdain. He's always been interested in making my life easier, and this seems to be no exception. Every time he does it, my heart bursts with love for him.

A couple of days later, we revisited the conversation. We'd been sitting on the couch in the living room. My feet were in Harry's lap and he was massaging them. Long shifts at the hospital do my feet in and create an impossible ache—one that I never have the power to soothe myself. As an intern, I had swore that I would never let anyone massage my feet other than Monty. He had a natural touch and knew what he was doing. But I didn't know what being four months pregnant on a long shift would feel like. Maybe I did. I got to that point with Harriet. In comparison, that pregnancy was a walk in the park.

The television was on and we were watching Friends. Watching is a loose term. The television was on but neither of us was really paying attention. It was one of the episodes where Rachel was pregnant and was trying to figure out what to do for a nursery for her baby once she was born. We hadn't been watching until that moment, but suddenly our eyes kind of snapped to the screen. "What are we going to do with this baby?" I asked Harry, my fingers resting on my stomach and my eyes wide.