Today you came home from the shop with a tiny white baby-grow. The label said ‘new born’. Together we admired the size, wondering about the new life that will soon be wearing it. You reached out to me, as you do every evening now, and caressed by ever expanding stomach asking how bump junior has been today. You are so happy at the thought of becoming a Father. I add the little clothes to the ever growing pile of stuff you keep buying for your child. You happiness is infectious. We are happy.
But I am scared
I am scared that when this child is born you will take one look at it and know that it is not yours. That the truth of my mistake will finally be revealed.
Sometimes I wake at night, sobbing and scared and you hold me tight and tell me that it is all going to fine. There is nothing to be scared of, women have babies all the time and you are right they do, and if history is anything to go by they have babies that are not their husbands but in my dreams… or are they nightmares?…. the baby is born with his face, smiling and handsome but unmistakably him and not you and the moment you see it you know the truth and all this happiness is instantly gone, and then I wake up and you hold me and everything is briefly OK again.
The worst thing is I just don’t know. The baby might be yours or it might be Jonathan’s. You don’t know him and he doesn’t know you. He doesn’t even know that I am pregnant. Like me he returned to his life after the conference. I guess I could track him down if I wanted to, I remember his surname and the company stand he was working on but I don’t want to. I want this baby to our baby but I am scared that when it is born it will be so obvious that it is not that everything will be ruined.
I love you. I love us. I want this baby to be your baby. You believe this baby is your baby. All we have to do is wait and see if this baby plays along with our dreams or destroys them completely.