My phone chirps withtheemail.
“Roman,” I call him from the kitchen room.
He comes running into the living room so quickly, he skids across the floor.
“Are you okay? What’s wrong?” he freaks out, as he’s done every day for the past week. I fear he’s not going to get any better throughout the pregnancy. I wonder if he’ll be even worse once the babies are here, if that’s even possible.
“We got the email,” I tell him.
“Okay. I’m ready. Are you?” He takes a deep breath.
“Of course! Remember, it will only tell us if there’s at least one Y chromosome or none. We won’t know the individual sexes,” I remind him.
We still wanted to do it, even if the only answer is there’s at least one boy.
He sits next to me and holds my hand.
We pull up the link and sit through the longest video of my life. Until finally, the results.
‘You’re having a girl!’pops up on the screen.
“So, we’re having at least one girl?” Roman asks, even though I can tell understanding is dawning on him.
“Héroe, I think it means all three are girls. There’s no Y chromosome detected,” I tell him with a smile.
Having only sisters, I’m used to girls. I’m excited that they’re girls. I would’ve loved them just as much as sons, but daughters are easier.
Roman slowly looks at me, then looks down at my belly, then back at me.
“Girls?” he breathes out. “All daughters?”
“Yes, héroe. We’re having three daughters,” I explain slowly.
“I need air. No, I need water. Wait, it doesn’t matter what I need! What do you need? What do our daughters need? Oh my God, three daughters! Three little girls to keep safe. In this dangerous world.” He’s pacing as his hands run through his buzzed hair. “Cecilia, I think we need to move somewhere remote. Somewhere without evil boys. I don’t trust anyone with my girls. Maybe I can buy an island or something. You like the beach, right?”
I stand up ready to calm him, but he’s on me in an instant, helping me back onto the couch.
“You’re growing our daughters right now. Whatever you need, I can get you,” he insists. There’s a tremor in his voice, and his hands are shaking.
“I just need you to be okay. We can’t move to an island. Our families need us, and we’ll certainly need them,” I remind him.
“Okay. But can we at least home school them? They’re never allowed to talk to boys,” he decides.
“No, héroe. Our daughters will be educated by people who know how to teach. Plus, they’ll have to talk to boys. They’re going to live normal lives. And you’re going to let them. And one day, they’ll go on dates and have boyfriends,” I tell him, needing him to accept this in the next decade before it happens.
“I think I’m going to be sick,” he says, looking rather green.
“It’s okay. You’re going to be such a great girl-dad,” I reassure him.
“Oh my God. What are we going to do?” he mumbles, then pulls me into his chest.
“We’ll figure it out together. We’ll love our daughters and give them great lives. It’s going to be magical,” I soothe him.
“Okay. I believe you. As long as we have each other, we’re going to be okay,” he says. But I think he’s trying to convince himself.
I lean into him, and he hugs me.
And all is right in our world.
