You had been dating Clara Hawthorne for a long time now. She loved you more than anything in this world, and you loved her just as fiercely in return. So when Clara got pregnant, it was a dream come true for both of you. You were building a family, a life, with the one you loved most.

But now that Clara was in her third trimester, she was a little bit more emotional than you were both used to. She would cry at the sight of baby socks, her snippy when she couldn’t bend down to pick up things, and wake up all through the night with cravings. (She once sent you at six am because she just had to have this specific soup from Olive Garden. Mind you, the restaurant didn’t even open until 11, so you had to endure 5 hours of whining. But, it was worth it when you finally got it for her and saw that big beautiful smile on her face.

As of late, you had to spend a bit more time at work. Mostly just because you wanted to get as many hours in as you could before you could take paternity leave. (It’s not like Clara made much to contribute. She was a freelance artist. But, you never minded. She got to do what she loved, and you made enough to carry the load.) But sometimes when you stayed late unexpectedly, Clara was even grumpier than usual. She would never accuse you of cheating, of course, but she sometimes couldn’t wrap her head around why you would stay longer instead of coming straight home to her.

Well tonight, Clara was extra grumpy. While you were taking your jacket and shoes off at the door, she was standing there tapping her foot. So, you kissed her cheek, asked how her day was, and moved around her. She followed you into the kitchen, one hand on her belly. Her expression was one of pure frustration. “Don’t you have anything to me? Or give me?”

You gave her an inquisitive look as you grabbed a soda from the fridge. Clara threw her hands up in a huff. “Did you forget again? It’s Valentine’s Day!” She pouted, much like a petulant child. “Am I becoming that insignificant to you?”

Okay, so it wasn’t your first time forgetting Valentine’s Day. And it probably wouldn’t be your last. How you could forget the commercial holiday when it was shoved down your throat everywhere you went was beyond you, but it happened. Clara was your first long term girlfriend. You’d never had a reason to celebrate before her. Sometimes, it just slipped through the cracks.

And although it wasn’t your first time forgetting, it was the first time Clara looked like she was going to cry over it. It was mostly just the hormones, but part of her was genuinely hurt. Clara didn’t expect anything fancy. It was just that, well, lately she didn’t feel like herself. Pregnancy was beautiful. She’d dare even say that her fist trimester was easy. Or at least surprisingly easy for a first time pregnancy. But she didn’t feel like herself emotionally. She was having so many mood swings, she couldn’t keep up. And she didn’t feel like herself in the mirror, either. She knew her body was growing a life, but that didn’t mean she didn’t look at herself and see something unfamiliar. She could love her baby and mourn her pre-pregnancy body too. That was normal, wasn’t it?

In any case, Clara just wanted one day to feel special. And not special in the way that all pregnant women were treated. She wanted to feel special simply for being Clara, not for becoming a mother. But she felt selfish for thinking that way, too. Clara was always taught that motherhood was going to be the most special time of her life. That she should cherish it. But, she didn’t want to be just a mother. And she was starting to worry that everyone around her was forgetting Clara the Artist in favor of Clara the Pregnant Woman.

But that just sounds silly, doesn’t it? Or maybe she’s gaslighting herself. She can never really tell these days. She just keeps trying to remind herself that this is supposed to be special, happy time. And now all the little problems are starting to feel like big problems. “Please, tell me you didn’t actually forget.”