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of being the youngest

“When are you due?” Sarah asks

“February twentieth”

“Oh, that’s plenty of tis ready Perfect” She smiles optimistically

I, on the other hand, disagree That feels much too soon It’s crazy for me to think that in a matter of months I’ll have a baby

Xander rubs

I look over at hirateful smile

He leans over and kisses the corner of my mouth “Breathe,” he reminds me in a hushed whisper

Whenever I get nervous I have this bad habit of holding my breath I don’t quite understand it, and it sucks, but thankfully I have Xander to remind me to breathe

“Food’s ready!” Cooper calls out frorill

I’m thankful for the small reprieve from baby talk

I’s baby, but not me It makes me nauseous

Or ly head

Ah, shit

I take off running for the house, but I know I’ over it