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The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/solitarywhisper on 2023-08-10 05:36:03.
My alarm chirps from the bedside table and I quickly roll over to turn it off. I’ve always been an early bird. I find the serenity of a waking world the perfect setting to prepare myself for the long day ahead. My wife, Robin, on the other hand, is a night owl and while she’s always valued her sleep it’s currently more important than ever.
I glance over at her sleeping form, curled up on her side of the bed and half buried in a nest of pillows. It’s been increasingly hard for her to get comfortable at night but thankfully right now she looks perfectly peaceful. She snores softly and I smile to myself. She’s always denied that she snores and despite my light teasing I could never bring myself to prove that she does. Besides, I find the sound comforting in the silence of the morning, knowing she’s still dreaming deeply.
Careful not to jostle the bed too much, I slip out from under the covers and creep across the room to grab the pile of clothes I laid out the night before. I exit the bedroom, easing the door closed behind me, and cross the narrow hallway to the bathroom to get ready. I let the cool water of my morning shower wash off the sweat of sleep from the night before. It leaves me feeling rejuvenated and ready for a full day.
Clean and dressed, I next start to work on making my morning breakfast: hearty southern grits with a side of bacon. Just as I place the bacon on the skillet I hear the bedroom door open. Robin waddles into the kitchen, wiping the sleep from her eyes. She awkwardly eases herself down into a chair at the kitchen table, sitting almost sideways trying to accommodate her large stomach.
Her nutmeg hair is up in a tangled messy bun and she looks exhausted, but to me she’s never been more beautiful. She gives me a tired half smile and I feel my love for her burn in my chest. I grin back; I’m an incredibly lucky duck to have her in my life. We had met in college and hit it off immediately, her wit and humor matching mine stride for stride. Two birds of a feather, and now after eight years together we were forming our own little flock.
“Good morning, love bird. You’re up early.” I turn to try and salvage the now burning bacon.
She runs a hand over her belly. "I didn’t sleep well, hard to get comfortable,” she mumbles.
I plate up a second serving of grits and bacon, setting it in front of her and sitting myself across the table. She just stares at it, brooding over her breakfast.
"Should be getting close now,” she says to her plate. She looks up at me and I see her brown eyes start to twinkle with tears. “What if we’re not ready? What if *I’m* not ready? You know, for kids.”
“Hey now,” I coo, abandoning my breakfast and moving to sit in the chair beside her.
“What if parenting isn’t all it’s cracked up to be? What if it’s too hard for us?” She whispers. Tears start to tumble onto her cheeks as she closes her eyes against them.
I gently put a hand around her shoulder. “We’ve planned for this, it’s not like we’re winging it. Besides, you’ve worked so hard, we couldn’t be more prepared.” I pause. “And I know I’m no spring chicken, but I still got a few good years left in me.”
She manages a small, half smile at that. I pull her in for a hug and she buries her face in my shoulder, breathing deeply and shakily.
I think back on the last year. We had moved into our forever home and finally felt financially stable enough to add kids to our family. After months of trying, Robin was overjoyed when she got her positive test result. She went full into nesting mode, planning and decorating the nursery, collecting way too many blankets, and buying newborn clothes and accessories (“I couldn’t help it, they’re so cute!”). Through the whole process she’s been religious about her doctors appointments, making sure everything is going smoothly. Now there wasn’t much more we could do to prepare, we just had to wait for our little bundle to arrive.
I draw back from our embrace and lift her chin to gaze into her deep, brown eyes, now slightly bloodshot from crying. “How about we go on a walk tonight? Get you out of the house for a bit, you’ve been cooped up all weekend.”
She smiles fully this time and clucks her tongue at me, “You’re just trying to induce me.”
“You caught me,” I laugh. “Two birds, one stone.”
After one more hug she wipes her eyes and starts scratching at her grits with her spoon. I move across the table to finish my breakfast as she finally digs into her own, and our conversation switches to lighter topics. We discuss the front yard, drapery colors, the neighbor’s noisy dog, and my brother’s latest social media post. When we’ve both finished our grits and polished off the last of the bacon I clear the dishes away, rinsing them before loading them into the dishwasher.
“Are you going to be alright while I’m at work?” I ask as I wipe down the kitchen table.
“I’ve managed this long, I think I can handle a few hours without you." She flashes me a grin. "I’ll be fine. Besides, Henrietta is just next door if I need anything.”
“That old biddy’s got not nothing better to do, always watching us. She’ll probably be over with a loaf of bread or a batch of cookies as soon as I leave.”
“She’s sweet! And she successfully raised her own brood all by herself so if anyone’s going to be able to help it’s her.”
It’s true. As far as neighbors go, we are beyond lucky to have one as kind and experienced as Henrietta living next to us, even if she is a bit of a loon.
I lace up my shoes and grab the car keys by the front door. Robin heaves herself up out of the kitchen chair to see me off and gives me a peck on the cheek.
"Drive safe, love bird,” she croons in my ear.
“I will. And seriously, call if you need anything. I’ll come straight home.”
Closing the front door behind me, I wind my way down our front walk to the driveway. One of our other neighbors, Mr. Finch, is stopped by our mailbox, his little white dog lifting its leg to pee on our azaleas.
“Good morning, Bill!” He waves to me, “A little birdie told me your wife’s expecting. Congratulations!”
“Thank you, we’re really excited.” I answer, reaching my car and unlocking it.
“As you should be, it’s an exciting time!” His little dog pulls him along and he waves as they shuffle away down the street.
I sigh and climb into my car. There are no secrets in our tiny neighborhood. I start the car and an announcer immediately starts squawking at me from the radio about some new product. I change the channel in favor of some music and pull away from my little home.
Work is about 5 miles away as the crow flies, but my commute takes 20-25 minutes. My route takes me past our local elementary school and in the mornings I get caught in traffic. With children already on my mind I don’t mind so much today. I watch flocks of kids running from buses and cars to the front doors, hooting and hollering the whole way. Soon our own children will be joining the gaggle of kids. I smile and my stomach simultaneously drops at the thought. Me, a father, bringing my kids to school. Car seats filling the back seat, backpack and lunchbox contents spilling on the floor.
Someone honks behind me. While I’d been lost in thought, traffic had started moving. I shake my head, trying to clear my mind but end up spending the rest of the drive daydreaming about our future kids. Who they’ll be, what interests they’ll have. If they’ll like me.
As I arrive at work, the hustle and bustle of the office quickly pushes all thoughts of children from my mind. Sitting down at my desk, I glance across to my partner who is already hard at work filing paperwork and tapping away at the keyboard of his computer. My partner, Hawkins, was a quick hire last month after my old partner had been poached by a rival company. I’d taken him under my wing, giving him the training necessary for his position, and he’d taken to the role like a duck to water.
Hawkins glances up from his computer at me and whistles, “Well don’t you look plucky. Have a good weekend?”
I catch his meaning. “No kids yet, still waiting. I did shower this morning, though. You should try it.”
He cackles in response and gets back to typing. I start thumbing through the paperwork on my desk. The last thing I need today is my eagle eyed supervisor on my tail about filing late. Mr. Adler is fairly patient and understanding but he’s a stickler for timelines. He’d given me plenty of slack while I was training Hawkins, but if I wanted to work my way up the office pecking order I had to make up for it this month.
The morning flies by as I work my way through the seemingly endless pile of paperwork. One sends me on a wild goose chase through the company’s records but I manage to get it done and filed in time for my lunch break. I pull my lunch bag from the fridge and head to the breakroom.
My coworker, Cox, is already sitting at the single table and as I pull out my chair he asks, “Did you see last month’s sales report?”
“Yeah, great work! Feels good to rule the roost, huh?” I reply, smiling at him as I unpack my lunch. He’s a young guy, very eager to please and he preens with the praise, pushing his glasses up on his beaklike nose.
Hawkins enters the break room and claps Cox on the shoulder, “Makes for a great feather in your cap! I bet Alder is pleased, too. Might be hard to tell, though.” We all laugh at that. Adler’s seemingly inability to smile is a running joke in the office.
My cell phone sings from my pocket. It’s Ro…
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