Eleanor lay still, her hands resting on the massive curve of her belly as Honey sat beside her. She looked over at Honey , her gaze heavy with thoughts she’d been carrying almost as long as the eight babies within her.
Sometimes I don’t know if I should feel blessed or trapped,
she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. I mean, I know this is a miracle—what my body’s doing, carrying eight children. But… I feel so helpless, like I’m losing myself.
Honey watched her, but she wasn’t looking at Honey now. She was staring at the ceiling, lost in the quiet ache that had settled into her bones over the last few months.
I can’t move without you. I can’t even sit up without you lifting me.
Her voice trembled, and she swallowed hard. I’m not sure if I’m even me anymore. I’m just… I’m just a body carrying everyone else’s future.
