The air in my sister Lauren’s living room was thick with the sweet scent of vanilla frosting and the cheerful, overlapping chatter of two dozen women. Pastel pink and gold balloons bobbed lazily against the ceiling, and a massive, tiered cake adorned with fondant baby booties sat as the centerpiece on the dining table. It was a picture-perfect Saturday afternoon baby shower, the culmination of months of meticulous planning and joyful anticipation.
Lauren sat in a plush armchair, glowing. She was thirty-four weeks pregnant, wearing a flowing, light blue silk dress that perfectly accentuated her large, round belly. She looked happy, but beneath the radiant smile, I could see the distinct, heavy exhaustion that accompanied the third trimester. Her ankles were slightly swollen, and she kept shifting her weight, trying to find a comfortable position.
My husband, Ethan, stood near the edge of the room, sipping a sparkling cider. Ethan was a seasoned obstetrician-gynecologist, a man whose entire professional life revolved around the delicate, chaotic process of bringing new life into the world. He usually hated these types of gatherings, preferring the clinical precision of the hospital, but he had come because Lauren was my only sister, and he loved her fiercely.
“Oh! She’s awake!” Lauren suddenly gasped, a wide, surprised smile breaking across her face. She placed both hands on the sides of her stomach. “Come here, you guys! Come feel this. She’s doing heavy gymnastics today.”
A few of her friends cooed and rushed forward, but I was the closest. I stepped up, grinning, and placed my hand flat against the taut fabric of her silk dress.
I waited for the familiar, sharp little jab or the rolling nudge of a knee that I remembered so fondly from my own pregnancy.
Instead, I felt a movement that made me frown. It wasn’t a kick. It was a strange, rolling shift, accompanied by a sensation that the entire surface of her abdomen was unnaturally hard. It felt too forceful, too wide, and deeply uncomfortable.
“Wow,” I murmured, pulling my hand back slightly. “She’s really pushing in there.”
