The Cradle

I knew the cradle would be a problem the moment I walked in. I knew Max meant well, but this cradle was out of control. The cradle was just about the ugliest thing I had ever seen and looked like it was going to fall apart any second. I took a deep breath and wondered if there was anything I could do about it without sending Max over the edge. I didn’t want the crib, but didn’t want to break his heart. What would our friends say when they say it? But why was I worried about what they would say? What would they think? 

I hugged Max the best I knew how and put my attention on everything else I could do for the baby. For our baby. What people thought shouldn’t matter.   Over the next few days, I started planning on what I could do to make our lives easier for our child. Though I wasn’t sure either of us was ready for a newborn, but it was the best option we had at the moment. The only other option was for me to go to jail. Or Max to go. The only way we could stay free was for us to become parents. It was the only way we could get out of the rut we were in. Though I needed a way to tell Max, I wasn’t quite as far along as he thought. Because the baby wasn’t his.