She brought paint samples.
She argued with my obstetrician during an appointment.
“You young doctors rely too much on machines,” she said.
The poor doctor blinked twice before politely asking Angela to wait outside.
She refused.
She signed herself up for the parenting classes Daniel and I attended.
“I deserve a refresher,” she announced.
The instructor assumed she was there to support another relative.
By the third class, Angela answered more questions than the expecting parents.
I stopped looking forward to anything.
Every milestone somehow became about her.
When we scheduled our gender reveal, I quietly prayed.
Please…
Just let me have one day.
One day that belongs to our little family.
I should have known better.
The Day My Happiness Was Stolen
The backyard sparkled with pink and blue decorations.
Friends laughed.
Children chased bubbles across the lawn.
For the first time in months, I felt peaceful.
Daniel wrapped an arm around me.
“Ready?”
I nodded.
Together we popped the giant black balloon.
A cloud of bright pink confetti exploded into the air.
“It’s a girl!”
I burst into tears.
Daniel kissed my forehead.
Everyone cheered.
For perhaps five beautiful seconds…
Everything was perfect.
Then I heard glass tapping.
Angela stood in the center of the yard holding a champagne flute.
“I HAVE AN ANNOUNCEMENT!”
The cheers faded.
She smiled dramatically.
“I’m pregnant too!”
Silence.
Absolute silence.
One cousin laughed awkwardly, assuming it was a joke.
Nobody else moved.
Then Angela placed both hands over her stomach and beamed.
“I guess our babies will grow up together!”
My tears hadn’t even dried.
People slowly drifted toward her.
Questions.
Congratulations.
Confusion.
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