I had hoped that seeing my boyfriend Miles again after four months apart would be a happy event. Instead, I got a shocking refusal when I told them I was pregnant. His angry words and threat of “the baby or me” broke my heart.
As I stood alone in the snow, holding my stomach, Dave, Miles’ friend, came up behind me. Because he cared and was kind, there was hope. He said, “Come with me, Annabelle.” “You need a safe place.”
Dave’s warm, cozy home became my safe place. The odd furniture and sense of a life well lived made me feel at ease. I was able to heal from Miles’ betrayal thanks to his selfless support and caring personality.
Our friendship got stronger as the days turned into weeks. Dave’s actions, like the caring words and surprises he gave me, made me appreciate him even more. I saw him in a new way: as a kind person who really cared.
One crisp morning, Dave found me having a hard time delivering groceries. You could feel his stress and anger. He led me to his car and asked, “Why are you working like this, Annabelle?”
I found a bunch of things I needed for pregnancy in the trunk. Tears ran down my face when I realized Dave would always be there for me. He told her with a sincere smile, “You’re going to be a great mom.”
Our bond grew stronger, and I felt better being in his gentle presence. Fear crept in, though. Could Dave really love a mother-to-be who was about to go through a rough patch in her life?
We were eating together one night when I called him “honey.” I felt scared during the awkward silence that followed. Had I broken our bond?
As the days went by, Dave’s behavior changed. He didn’t look at her, and his welcomes were short. I found a voicemail message on his phone that was a warning about moving into a new apartment. It broke my heart to hear that he was going to leave.
I packed my things because I was ready to go out into the world by myself. But Miles showed up and made fun of my pregnant body before I could leave. I didn’t agree with his idea to be a family just for attention.
My water broke as I pushed him away, and cramps took over. Miles passed out, but Dave’s words could be heard over the noise. “Annabelle, are you okay?” “We need to go to the hospital.”
Dave told us the truth at the hospital: the new apartment had a room for our baby and was meant for us. “I love you,” he told her.
The birth of our son Matthew was the start of a new, loving journey for our family. After many years, when our daughter Hope was born, our family was complete. Dave’s unfailing love and care made painful memories seem like a long time ago.
In the end, sadness led me to love that made me whole again.
