The pregnancy test confirmed it on a Thursday morning and I told no one for exactly four hours.
Not because I was uncertain. Not because the result required a second reading or a third or the specific repeat checking of a woman who needed confirmation from multiple angles before she trusted what was in front of her. The result was clear. It had been clear since the second line appeared at approximately the same speed and confidence as a woman who had made a decision and was not reconsidering it.
I sat on the edge of the bathtub for four hours because some information needed time to exist inside the person it belonged to before it belonged to anyone else.
A third child.
The math was straightforward. The timeline was straightforward. The biology, given the miracle of Lucas's existence wh
