You’re not special. Millions of women have babies

“Pick it up.”

Lorraine Bennett stared at me from the other side of her living room like I was a waitress who had dropped a tray.

My hospital bag lay open at her feet. Tiny cotton pajamas, nursing bras, a folder of insurance papers, and the blue blanket my mother had knitted for the baby were scattered across the polished floor.

I was thirty-four weeks pregnant, swollen, tired, and already having the kind of back pain my doctor kept telling me not to ignore.

I looked at my husband. “Ethan?”

He stood by the fireplace with one hand around a glass of bourbon. He did not move.

Lorraine lifted one eyebrow. “Why are you looking at him? I told you to pick up your things.”

“You threw them.”

“You brought that ugly bag into my house after I told you the photographer was coming.”

“It’s a hospital bag, Lorraine. Not a dead raccoon.”

Ethan closed his eyes for half a second. That was his favorite reaction when his mother and I fought. Not defense. Not disagreement. Just exhaustion, as if my pain were an inconvenience he had to survive.

Lorraine smiled. “See? This is exactly what I mean. Dramatic. Hostile. Unstable.”

The word hit strangely.

Unstable.

She had used it three times that month.

I bent carefully and began gathering the clothes. The baby kicked hard under my ribs.

“Don’t,” Ethan said quietly.

For one hopeful second, I thought he was talking to his mother.

Then he added, “Rachel, just let it go.”

I looked up at him. “She dumped our daughter’s things on the floor.”

“She’s stressed.”

“So am I.”

Lorraine gave a dry laugh. “You’re pregnant. You’re not special. Millions of women have babies every year without turning the entire world into a hostage situation.”

My face burned.

Ethan said nothing.

That hurt more than Lorraine’s words.

I stuffed the last onesie into the bag, stood too quickly, and had to grip the back of a chair when a wave of dizziness rolled through me.

Ethan finally stepped forward. “You okay?”

I pulled away before he touched me. “Now you’re interested?”

Lorraine’s phone was on the coffee table. The screen lit up.

A message preview appeared before she snatched it away.

DR. HARLAN: Her emotional presentation tonight supports the petition. Document witnesses.

My stomach went cold.

“What petition?” I asked.

Lorraine’s expression changed for less than a second.