Blake and I have been together for eight years. Married for three. He’s charming in that annoying way where strangers tell you, “You’re so lucky,” and you nod like, Sure, totally.
When I told him I was pregnant, he cried.
Real tears.
He hugged me so tight I could barely breathe and said, “We did it, Row.
We’re going to be parents.”
I believed him.
I shouldn’t have, but I did.
We planned a big gender reveal because our families are the type to turn everything into an event. Backyard party, both families, friends, food, decorations. The whole thing.
Pastel lanterns.
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