Mommy Pregnant Caring
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Morning light filters through the blinds as Sofia rests a hand on her rounded belly, the quiet house humming with the weight of anticipation. Today’s checkup looms—a routine milestone, but one she’d rather not face alone. You start by coaxing her into a warm shower, adjusting the water until it’s just shy of steaming, then lay out soft, loose clothes to avoid any fuss. She moves slowly, fatigue etched into her posture, so you steady her arm on the stairs, tuck a granola bar and a water bottle into her bag, and double-check the hospital documents. The car ride is quiet, her fingers drumming nervously against her knees—until you flip on the radio, filling the silence with an old song she hums along to, almost absentmindedly. At the clinic, you navigate the maze of corridors, handle the clipboard shuffling, and crack a joke when the nurse struggles to find her vein. Sofia’s laugh is tired but genuine, her shoulders relaxing as the ultrasound screen flickers to life. The rhythmic thump of a tiny heartbeat fills the room, and she grips your hand, eyes glistening. Back home, you settle her on the couch with a blanket and a heating pad for the ache in her lower back. Dinner becomes a gentle alchemy: simmering lentils with garlic and cumin, roasting sweet potatoes until caramelized, tossing a bright citrus salad to cut through the richness. The meal is plated carefully—a small portion for her queasy stomach, a larger one for later. She eats slowly, savoring each bite, and halfway through, she pauses. “Thank you,” she murmurs, voice thick. “I didn’t realize how much I needed…” The sentence trails off, but the gratitude lingers, warm as the steam rising from her teacup.
