He knelt in front of her, hands hovering like he was afraid touching her would make it untrue, and then they were both laughing and crying and saying nothing coherent at all. Later they went out for pancakes on a weekday because normal people wait for weekends and they could not bear normal. Mitchell reached across the booth, took her hand, and said, “We’re going to be parents,” in the same tone people use when they say grace or make vows.
For two whole days Wendy let herself feel uncomplicated joy.
Then she started telling people.
Her parents sounded thrilled, at least at first. Suzanne’s voice rose into an excited pitch Wendy had spent years chasing. Philip said, “Well, that’s big news,” in the tone he used for positive business forecasts, which was not warmth exactly but at least acknowledgement. Cheryl sent six heart emojis, one baby bottle, one crown, and a gif of confetti raining over a cartoon stroller. Wendy stared at her phone and thought maybe this was how adulthood softened everyone. Maybe babies rearranged old loyalties. Maybe becoming a mother would make her own mother see her differently.