The house was still a chaotic mess of baby gear.

The car seat still needed to be clipped into the base.

The hospital bags still needed to be loaded into the trunk.

Their lives were about to be irreparably, permanently turned upside down, and the terrifying unknown of labor still loomed just days, perhaps even hours, away.

But as she stood there, anchored in the embrace of her husband, listening to the steady, comforting rhythm of his breathing, she realized something with absolute certainty.

She didn’t need to read the letters yet.

She didn’t need to break the seal on the envelope to know what was inside.

She already knew she was surrounded by a village.

She already knew she was loved beyond measure.

She pulled back just slightly, resting her forehead against his, both of their faces wet with tears, and let out a watery, beautiful laugh.

“You are going to be the most incredible father, Ben Rosenbaum,” she whispered, her hands resting over his where they cradled her belly.

He smiled, a real, radiant smile that finally reached his eyes, chasing away the last shadows of his anxiety.

“Only because I have you to show me how it’s done.”