At the time, I thought perhaps the reality of becoming a father overwhelmed him.
There were other little moments too.
Melissa sometimes texted late at night asking whether the baby had moved enough that day.
Ryan became quieter during appointments.
At several ultrasounds, I noticed him staring at his phone.
Whenever Melissa glanced toward him, he tilted the screen away.
Once, I asked him if something was wrong at work.
“Everything’s fine,” he said.
Then he changed the subject so abruptly that I noticed.
Still, I told myself he was nervous.
After everything he and Melissa had endured, maybe happiness itself frightened him.
Near the end of the pregnancy, during our final ultrasound, the technician moved the wand slowly across the baby’s back.
Then she paused.
It lasted only a moment.
Barely long enough to register.
Her expression didn’t change. She continued the examination and eventually told us things looked good.
