I wake up with the strange feeling that something is out of place.
It’s not pain. It’s not nausea. It’s not the soft cold of the morning slipping through the cracks in the cabin window. It’s something else. An invisible weight pressing against my chest, as if the day woke up before me and decided it would be difficult.
I lie still for a few seconds, staring at the wooden ceiling, listening to the ranch come alive. Distant footsteps, the low sound of animals, the wind moving through the trees. Normally, it calms me.
Today, it doesn’t.
I instinctively place a hand over my belly. A protective gesture, automatic.
“It’s okay…” I whisper, more to myself than to the baby.
I get up slowly, take a warm shower, and choose something comfortable to wear. No dresses today. Soft pants, a loose swe
