However as the pregnancy progressed something slowly began to change.
Natalie became more tired as the months passed. That was natural because her body was working constantly to support the baby growing inside her. Even so she kept helping with every family gathering that happened in our house.
She cooked when my sisters visited. She set the table. She cleared the dishes afterward. Many times I told her to sit down and rest, but she always answered with the same gentle phrase.
“It’s okay Daniel. It will only take a few minutes.”
The problem was that those few minutes often turned into an hour or more.
The night everything changed happened on a quiet Saturday evening. My three sisters had come for dinner as they often did, and the table ended up covered with plates, glasses, spoons, leftovers, and crumpled napkins.
After finishing the meal my sisters walked straight into the living room where my mother had already turned on a television drama. I could hear them laughing together while discussing the story.
I stepped outside briefly to check something in my pickup truck parked in the driveway. When I returned through the back door and walked into the kitchen I saw a scene that stopped me completely.
Natalie was standing at the sink. Her back was slightly bent forward. Her large eight month pregnant belly pressed against the edge of the counter while her wet hands slowly moved through a tall stack of dirty dishes.
The wall clock showed ten at night. The only sound in the entire house was the steady flow of water running into the sink.
I watched quietly for several seconds. Natalie had not noticed that I was there. She kept washing dishes slowly while breathing a little harder every few moments. Then a ceramic cup slipped from her hands and clattered against the metal sink. She closed her eyes briefly as if gathering strength before continuing.
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