KAT
What Mothers Know
The October sun filters through our trailer windows, painting everything amber while I lie trapped in this bed like a beached whale. Day three of Dr. Rivera's strict bed rest, and I'm already contemplating violence. The boys tumble constantly now, their movements visible through my stretched skin—a heel here, an elbow there, what might be a tiny fist pressed against my ribs. Each movement sends ripples across my distended belly like something alien trying to escape, which isn't far from the truth.
"No s*x until after delivery," Dr. Rivera had announced yesterday with the casual cruelty of medical professionals who don't have to endure the consequences. Dave's face had gone through several interesting contortions before settling on resigned acceptance. "The stimulat
