The morning started like any other. I was in the kitchen, staring down at the two pink lines on the test in front of me. Pregnant. Again. My hand instinctively went to my belly.
A part of me felt joy. Babies are a blessing, right? But then reality hit, and my chest tightened. How were we going to make this work?
Jacob already works so hard as a janitor, and my nanny job barely covers the groceries. Tommy, our 7-year-old, needs new shoes, and our car’s been making a noise that doesn’t sound cheap to fix.
Jacob was sitting in the living room, lacing up his boots. His shoulders slumped like always, the weight of the world pressing on him.
