I tied the strings behind my neck and back. “I should warn you, I have no idea what I’m doing. I’ve never made jam or canned anything. But I’m a willing hand with a knife or a spoon.”
“We’ll take it. Here.” Anna slid me a bowl of peaches. “These are washed—they just need to be sliced.”
“I’ll get you a cutting board and a knife,” Emma added. “So how did it go with Maggie?”
“Good. It was good,” I decided, washing my hands at the sink. “She says I’m about twelve weeks along. And everything looks perfect so far.”
“That’s wonderful, honey.” Anna sat back down at the table and resumed prepping cucumbers. “How are you feeling?”
“Fine. A little tired, but that’s been getting better. My boobs hurt. Maggie says I need to get bigger bras.”
“Oh, that was always how I knew I was carrying. I’d go up a couple of bra sizes even before I started getting sick.” Anna waggled her eyebrows. “Jimmy used to say he knew first because I went from a palmful to a handful.”
Emma’s wide eyes met mine. Behind Anna’s back, she silently mouthed, “Oh, my God!”
I nodded slightly, my chin dropped nearly to my chest. Anna glanced up and caught me. “What? You girls think you’re the first generation who discovered sex? Please. If you knew what a wild time Jimmy and I used to have—”
“No!” Emma dropped her knife and covered her ears. “Please, Anna. If you love me, please just stop right there. I don’t doubt that you and my husband’s grandfather are very happily married and in love, but please—I don’t want that visual in my head when we’re all sitting around the table eating supper.”
Anna waved her hand. “Fine, fine.” We were all quiet for a moment, and then Anna spoke up again.
“What are your plans, Alison? If you don’t mind me asking.”
I didn’t ask her to elaborate because I knew what she meant. “I don’t know if I’m sure yet—I mean, beyond the fact that I’m having the baby. I swing back and forth depending on the day, sometimes depending on the hour. Most days, I wake up in a sweaty panic, positive that I would be a complete disaster as a mother. I think about having to get out the door and to the office in the morning—not just me, but a baby, too. And what if I was up all night because said baby mixes up its days and nights? They do that, you know. I read about it. So what if I have to be up all night with a mixed-up baby, and then I have to see patients, and . . .” I glanced up from my peaches to see both Anna and Emma staring at me. “What?”
“You’re obsessing, Alison.” Emma frowned. “I understand that this is a huge decision, but try to look at both sides, in the interest of fairness, okay? Is it possible your baby will be awake at night sometimes? Sure. But it’s also possible that your baby will be a great sleeper. It’s possible your baby will be happy and easy.”
“What about croup? And what’s the other thing—it starts with a C, too—”
“Colic,” Anna supplied. “It happens, but it’s something you can deal with.”
“By myself? While I’m also a full-time doctor? Who’s also renovating her house while she lives in it?” I dropped a slice of peach into the bowl.
“My first baby—that’s my daughter Carrie, I don’t think you’ve ever met her, Alison—she had colic. Her worst time was the witching hour—about five o’clock in the evening, you know just when I had to start supper. By the time she was two months old, I thought I’d pull my hair out.”
“Anna, if you’re building up to something positive and uplifting, can you get there?” Emma blinked. “Because the way you’re going, I’m about to call Deacon and ask him to consider a vasectomy.”
“Don’t you dare. I need more grandbabies.” Anna shook her knife in Emma’s direction. “What I was going to say was that I did most of that time with Carrie on my own. She was born right at the cusp of busy season on the farm, and Jimmy was up to his neck in planting and cultivating seedlings. We lived here with my in-laws, but they were busy helping Jimmy.”
“So how did you keep from losing your mind?” I asked.
Anna smiled. “One day when the baby was about nine weeks old, and I thought I just couldn’t take it anymore . . . Carrie took a three-hour nap in the afternoon. I actually got to sit down and breathe for a minute—to hear my own thoughts. And when she did wake up, I went to get her in the crib, and for the first time, when she saw me leaning over her, she gave me the biggest, whole-face smile. It was the most beautiful sight in the world.” Anna sighed. “I fell in love with her all over again. Things started to slowly get better from that point—babies grow and change so quickly in that first year.”
I finished slicing my last peach and wiped off my hands. “Thank you, Anna. You give me hope. And I appreciate you not candy-coating what motherhood is like.” I twisted the dish towel between my fingers. “One of the things that keeps me up at night is wondering if I can be a good enough mother when I never had anyone to show me how to do it.”
If I’d expected sympathy from that statement, I was bitterly disappointed. “Alison Wakely, what are you talking about? You have plenty of women in your life to show you the way. Didn’t you tell me that you were very close to your last two foster mothers?”
“Yes, but they weren’t really the motherly types. They were more like . . . aunts or big sisters. We were friends.”
“I think that’s what you’ve been telling yourself because the idea of mothers scares you shitless.” Anna folded her arms on the table and regarded me over the top of her glasses. “And I don’t blame you one bit for that, but just because you weren’t raised by a picture-perfect version of June Cleaver doesn’t mean you won’t do a damn fine job raising this baby.”
I took a long breath. “I’m glad you think so because . . . I think I’ve made up my mind. I think—no, I know. I’m going to raise this baby. I’m going to be her—or his—mom. God help the poor thing.”
“Oh, my God!” Emma jumped to her feet. “I was hoping you were going to decide—but I didn’t want to push you. But I’m so happy for you. And I want you to know that if you need help, anything I can do, just tell me. I’ll babysit. I’ll throw you a shower. Hell, I’ll be your birthing partner if you want.”
“Thanks. I’ve been thinking more and more that all of the reasons not to have a baby will always be there. I could listen to them and end up alone and lonely for the rest of my life. Or I could look at this pregnancy as the universe telling me that it’s time, that I can do it. And . . .” I wasn’t sure I wanted to share this next part, but these were my friends. I went with it. “I was on my way over here from St. Agnes, listening to the radio, and I heard this song. Maybe it’s these crazy pregnancy hormones, but I listened to the words, and I just starting crying. And right then, I knew. I just knew what I wanted. Finally.” I shrugged. “So, ready or not, I’m going go with it.”
“Oh, Alison.” Emma’s smile was huge. “That’s beautiful. It makesmewant to cry, and I don’t even have pregnancy hormones I can blame.”
