Authors: Joy Connell
Standing behind Riley, Joe wrapped his arms around what used to be Riley’s waist. His hands, still warm from holding Rosie, came to rest on top of the shelf that their own baby made in Riley’s midriff. Without a word, he rocked both Riley and his unborn child. When the baby kicked, Joe laughed and rubbed the spot where a knee or an elbow or a foot was rippling like a wave across Riley’s belly. After a moment, the baby settled. Riley liked to believe the baby was reaching out to them and then, reassured, settled into a nap.
Taking her by the hand, Joe led her back into the center of the party, to the circle of their friends which welcomed them and closed protectively around them, patting Riley’s stomach and Joe’s back, making jokes about how they’d never get another good night’s sleep and they’d be eating pureed carrots and oatmeal for dinner. With every gesture, every word, this circle of people was telling them they belonged together, they were at home here, and always would be.