As soon as she’s out of the room, Carse turns to look at me. “That was amazing, Mack. I’m sorry if I pushed you into thinking I wouldn’tsupport your options. I’m here for you no matter what. I shouldn’t have assumed you would keep the baby.”
I shake my head at him. “No, Carse. You don’t need to apologize. I want to keep the baby. It’s just all still so new. I haven’t told Griff, or Mom and Dad. I have no idea if they will all react the same as you did, with unwavering support. I just want to educate myself on all the possible options.”
He nods in understanding while I untuck my shirt and sit back up.
A few moments later, Dr. Bahati comes back in the room with the materials and says, “We will have you back in about a month to do another ultrasound. That one will be the full anatomy scan. In the meantime, take your prenatal vitamins, drink plenty of fluids, try to eat small, frequent meals to help with the morning sickness and curb the nausea, and take it easy.”
“You got it, Doc. I’ll make sure to keep her in line,” Carson replies with his hand across his chest. “I take my duties as funcle seriously. I won’t let you down.”
Maybe telling my parents won’t be so bad. That way, maybe my mom can come to some of these appointments instead of Carse. He’s going to get me in trouble with my doctor.
I’m woken up by one of the best feelings in the world—Ranger’s wet nose nuzzles mine before he lays on a long lick across my cheek. I giggle in response and he paws at my hand, his way of telling me to pet him. He’s always so needy first thing in the morning.
As the sleep clears from my brain, I realize it’s Christmas morning. That means I’m nineteen weeks pregnant. As the thought crosses my mind, my phone chimes with an incoming text.
Carse:
Merry Christmas, Mack & Uncle’s little mango. I miss you!
Me:
Mango?
Carse:
Yep. 19 weeks. According to my app, the baby is the size of a mango.
Knowing the size of mango’s parents, we probably should skip ahead a week…
Merry Christmas, little sweet potato.
Me:
Merry Christmas, Carse. We love you and miss you too! Good luck tomorrow—kick some ass!
Carse:
Good luck to you, too, sis. It will all be okay.
I quickly brush my teeth, put my hair up in a bun, and wash my face before heading downstairs to breakfast. Nerves fill my belly, making me second guess if it’s nerves or if I’m finally feeling the baby move. I place a hand on my lower abdomen, the move soothing some of my anxiety.
Alright, little one. It’s time to tell grandma and grandpa about you.
Just then, I feel another flutter in my lower stomach and decide it must be the baby nudging me to let me know I’m not alone.
How does one really tell their parents they’re about to become grandparents far earlier than they were planning? If things had gone as planned, they wouldn’t be grandparents for at least another decade.
I take a deep breath as I round the corner and enter the kitchen.
“Good morning, Princess. Merry Christmas,” my dad says to me as he flips pancakes on the griddle.
“Merry Christmas, Daddy.”
“Merry Christmas, hun. How did you sleep?” Mom asks me when she comes out of the butler’s pantry.
“Good. I always get my best night’s sleep when I’m home. I miss Ranger so much when I sleep in my dorm. I’m excited to get to sleep with him every night over winter break.”
We sit down for Christmas morning pancakes together, and I know I need to just tell them already.
