“I haven’t had time to figure that out yet. I’ve only known for a little over twelve hours.” This morning, first thing, I’d called Brooke’s office to see if she could somehow squeeze me in for an urgent appointment. When her secretary had told me that the only available opening was at eleven, I’d taken it, calling my own office to let them know that we needed to shift my morning patients to later in the day.
“And you’re sure? I mean, you’re sure that you’re really . . .”
I raised one eyebrow. “Pregnant? Yeah. Three tests said the same thing. And when I thought about it, I realized how many symptoms I have. The fatigue, the enlarged, painful breasts, the wild emotions . . . not to mention the absent period.”
“All of which could be explained by something other than pregnancy, but with the addition of the three positive tests, I’d agree.” She tapped one finger on her thigh. “But you’ll see a doctor soon?”
“Sure.” I flipped over my hand. “I mean, I guess I will. If I . . . if I decide that I’m going to go ahead. With the . . . you know, the pregnancy.”
“So you’re still weighing your options?” There was not even a smidge of judgment in her tone.
“I don’t know. Maybe? I should, right? Because I’m single. With my history, I probably have no business even thinking about being a mother. I didn’t plan this at all. I got pregnant by mistake, and the father of my baby is in a coma. What if Noah never wakes up? How in the hell would I do this—work and support us by myself? It’s not like I’m a cashier at Walmart—which, no offense, because I’m not saying that job doesn’t have its challenges—but the hours are regular. Not like mine.”
“Hmmmm.” Brooke nodded slowly. “I’d like to point out a few interesting things about what you just said. First of all, let’s remember that there are noshouldsin a situation like this. You don’t want to become a parent because anyone thinks you should, nor do you want to not have a baby because anyone thinks you shouldn’t. A bunch of other points you raise also mean next to nothing. You’re single. So are plenty of other parents. You didn’t plan it—oh, sweetie, the idea that most pregnancies are planned is laughable.”
“All right, all right. I’ll table those issues for now.” I steepled my fingers and rested my forehead on them. “What about the others?”
“Well, your concerns about Noah and his current condition are well-taken. You don’t know what his participation would be because he’s not awake to let you know and you’re not sure if or when he will be.”
That was a cheery thought. “Uh-huh.”
“And your job is demanding.” She lifted one finger. “However, for several months now we’ve been talking about making your work hours more realistic and controllable. You’re already doing better there. We don’t have any reason to believe that trend won’t continue, and the good news is that while you’re a doctor, owning a practice like yours is the most family-friendly way to be in medicine.”
I didn’t want to admit even to myself that Brooke was making sense. And the reason I was so reluctant was that acknowledging the possibility that I could do this—have a baby, be a mother—was damned scary. It meant that maybe I was going to think about doing this. It meant that someone who wasn’t me thought I could handle motherhood.
“Brooke,” I whispered. “I’m so fucking scared. What if I decide to do this and I screw it up? What if I mess up my kid, this beautiful, perfect human being? What if I have no idea what I’m doing?”
“Then you’ll be like every other parent in the history of the world, my dear.” Brooke tilted her head. “But is that really what’s making you so fucking scared?”
“No.” Slowly I shook my head. “What terrifies me is . . . what if I decide not to do it and it’s my only chance, and I have to live with the regret for the rest of my life? What if I don’t mess up this beautiful, perfect human being because I never get to meet him or her?”
Brooke drew herself up, folded her hands, and sighed. A small smile played about her lips.
“Now those are some questions worth asking.” She glanced at the clock on the table next to her. “And since our time is up, I suggest you take yourself to a peaceful, quiet place and start finding out if you have the answers.”
I stood up and slipped my shoes back on, looping the strap of my handbag over my shoulder. “Thanks. I’ll see you in a couple of weeks.”
“All right. Don’t hesitate to call me if you need a quick session between now and then, though, Alison. This is a big deal. I get that.”
I managed a smile, but inside, I was thinking . . .no kidding.This decision I was facing . . . it could very well be the biggest, most important one of my entire life.
And I might have to make it on my own.
2
Alison
Three days after my talk with Brooke, I was just unlocking my front door after work when I felt my phone buzz.
Emma:Hey, I thought you might want to know that Noah woke up last week. I think he’s going to be okay. I visited yesterday, and he seems better. But in case you happen to be at the hospital again and were thinking of dropping in—I’d advise against it. He found out yesterday after I was there that his football career is over. His knee was just too badly injured. He didn’t take the news well, according to his mother.
I stood on the porch, reading the message over and over, dizzy with a mix of relief and dismay. When I could move again, I opened my door and went inside, dropping my purse on the table before I sank into the sofa.
Alison:Thanks for letting me know.
Sitting with the phone in my hand, I frowned, trying to decide what I should do next. If Noah was awake, that meant I needed to let him know that I was pregnant as soon as possible. But if he just got some really bad news about his career, his future . . . now might not be the right time to share that he was about to be a father. Or not, depending on my decision, which would then becomeourdecision.
And what if he wasn’t in a reliable mental state yet? Being in a coma for several weeks had to do something to a guy. He could have some kind of psychotic break if overwhelmed with too much stress or bad news.
