Wren
A loud burp leaves Quincy’s mouth as she pats her tummy.
“Good?” I laugh.
“Perfect. Thank you,” she says. “It was just what the baby needed.”
She relaxes in her seat, breathing through her lips. Her red hair is up in a bun, her skin is glowing but you can’t mistake the ‘mom’ look.
“You look beautiful,” I tell her.
She snorts. “I don’t feel very beautiful. I feel like a watermelon, all swollen. Everything hurts, and Ray’s been so busy with what’s happening that I can’t even tell him that I’m so tired…” her voice cracks.
I scoot closer. “Hey, you’re doing so good, momma.”
“I don’t feel that way.”
“How do you feel? Tell me.”
“Like I’m not myself. My body feels different–” a tear falls from her eyes, “–I feel like I’m just existing for this baby, I’m not happy. I mean, I love m
