As the pregnancy progressed, Lauren slowly allowed herself to believe this baby was coming home.
She bought tiny white socks.
A stuffed rabbit.
A wooden picture frame for the nursery.
Nothing extravagant.
Just little acts of hope.
Then, around the halfway point, she mentioned a gender reveal.
I was surprised.
“You want a party?”
“Not really a party.”
“That sounds like a party.”
She laughed.
“Family. A few friends. Cake.”
“At your place?”
“Can we do yours?”
“Of course.”
She hesitated.
“I don’t want anything huge.”
“You’re talking to the woman who considers putting olives in a bowl entertaining.”
“Perfect.”
She wanted something intimate.
No smoke cannons.
No elaborate decorations.
No giant balloon walls.
Just the people she loved gathered in our backyard while she and Mark cut into a cake.Plan Family Trips
Pink or blue.
Simple.
A few days before the party, Lauren and Mark took the sealed envelope from the doctor to a local bakery.
Neither of them was supposed to know the result.
Lauren even joked about how seriously the bakery employee treated the envelope.
“She put it in their safe.”
“The gender of my grandchild is under armed protection?”
“Basically.”
That Saturday morning, the cake arrived.
The baker delivered it herself.
Her name was Jenna.
She looked around Lauren’s age, maybe early thirties, with dark hair twisted into a loose knot.
She carried the cake carefully through the side gate.
“Where do you want it?”
“Under the patio.”
“Good. Keep it out of direct sun.”
We placed it on the table.
It was exactly what Lauren wanted.
White frosting.
Simple piping.
No colored decorations.
Nothing that revealed what was inside.
“Beautiful.”
“Your daughter picked a nice design.”
Jenna smiled.
But she didn’t leave immediately.
She stood beside the table for several seconds.
At first, I thought she was making sure it was stable.
Then she looked at me.
Almost like she wanted to say something.
“You need anything else?” I asked.
“No.”
She hesitated.Start Baby Registry
Then:
“No. You’re good.”
She walked back toward her van.
I watched her go.
Something about that hesitation stayed with me for maybe thirty seconds.
Then I forgot it.
By early afternoon, the backyard was full.
My sister arrived.
Lauren’s closest friends.
Mark’s brother and parents.
A few cousins.
Someone ignored Lauren’s request and brought balloons anyway.
Lauren complained for approximately ten seconds before taking pictures beside them.
