Mara Ward woke before her alarm on the morning of the baby shower.
For several seconds, she remained still beneath the light cotton blanket, listening to the ceiling fan turn above her. The room was quiet except for the faint hum of the refrigerator down the hall and the occasional car passing outside.
Then the baby moved.
A small, firm pressure rolled beneath the right side of Mara’s stomach. She placed her palm over it and smiled despite the uneasiness that had been sitting in her chest since the night before.
“Good morning to you too,” she whispered.
The movement came again, stronger this time.
At thirty-one weeks pregnant, Mara had learned that her daughter was most active early in the morning and again just as Mara tried to fall asleep. Ethan joked that the baby had inherited his inability to respect a schedule.
Thinking of him made the room feel emptier.
His side of the bed had remained neatly made for nearly four months.
One of his gray shirts still hung on the back of the closet door because Mara had not been able to bring herself to wash it. The scent was almost gone now, but she sometimes pressed her face against the fabric when missing him became too heavy.
Ethan was stationed overseas with an Army engineering unit. His messages arrived at irregular hours, and their video calls often ended when the connection froze or someone called his name in the background.
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