I moved to Zionsville, where I used my own savings to buy a small one-bedroom apartment. It was not large, but it had everything I needed. I quickly decorated the place and prepared for my new life as I awaited the baby’s arrival.
The first few months were the hardest, with severe morning sickness. During the worst of it, I could barely keep anything down except water, and I found myself in and out of the hospital several times. I lost so much weight that I became almost unrecognizable.
Every time the doctor saw me coming in alone, he could not help but ask, “Where’s your husband? Why isn’t he here with you?”
I would simply smile faintly. “He’s very busy.”
The doctor frowned. “No matter how busy he is, he should be here for your check-ups. With your severe symptoms, someone needs to take care of you.”
Even so, I brushed off his concern with vague answers.
Though I had mentally prepared for this, every time I saw other couples walking in and out of the obstetrics department together, I could not help but feel envious.
As I placed a hand on my slightly rounded belly, I whispered encouragingly, “You’re the best baby ever. You’ll grow strong even without a daddy!”
I thought my life would continue peacefully like this. But in my fourth month of pregnancy, Ashton suddenly reached out to me.
