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“What about your support network here? I don’t want to take that away from you when you’ll need it the most.”
It’s clear Jake has been thinking this through, trying to see it from all sides. And it gives me confidence that the choice I’m making is the right one. “I’m trading one support network for another. I’ll have you, and Ryan and Queenie, and the other wives to rely on. My parents can come visit whenever they want, and so can Pax.” Although leaving her behind will be hard.
And so it’s decided. I’m going to meet with my boss, and once I’m past the twenty-week mark, the plan is for me to move to Seattle.
It turns out I need the five weeks to get everything set up. I meet with my boss, and after two meetings, we agree that instead of me transferring to the Seattle office, I’ll work remotely, because she doesn’t want to let me go or transfer the accounts I’ve been managing for a lot of years. When needed, I can go into the Seattle office.
My entire life has shifted course, and my personal and professional goals have changed along with it.
While I could move in with Jake, I want to give our relationship more room to grow, without the pressure of living together. Instead, I rent a small house that’s less than five minutes from Jake.
And when I reach twenty weeks, I’m that much closer to being able to breathe a little easier, knowing in just four weeks I’ll have reached the point the baby can survive if he’s born earlier than expected. The second round of tests, including the amniocentesis, come back negative for chromosomal abnormalities, and my blood pressure is under control again. My doctor has referred me to a maternal fetal medicine doctor in Seattle, so I know I’ll be well taken care for the remainder of my pregnancy.
Everything seems to be falling into place.
Apart from how my parents are handling this move.
To say they aren’t happy about me going to Seattle would be a huge understatement but staying in Tennessee isn’t what’s best for the baby or me, and it’s definitely not what’s best for Jake. My mother keeps trying to find reasons for me to stay, fretting more than usual. As frustrated as I am, I don’t want to leave with things unsettled between us.
The week before I’m scheduled to move, I invite her over so we can have a come-to-Jesus talk and I can explain why this is what’s best. Usually I’d make the twenty-minute trip to their place, but I want this to happen on my turf, not hers.
She stands on the front porch, holding a Tupperware container of my favorite cookies, looking nervous and uncertain.
“Come on in, you’ll have to excuse the mess.”
“Oh! Are you doing this all yourself? I would have come to help if I’d known.” She surveys the endless piles of boxes lining the walls. They’re carefully labeled and organized based on room.
“I hired movers who also do most of the packing,” I explain and take the Tupperware from her. The truck is scheduled to be here tomorrow to pick everything up, and I’m staying with Pax for a few days before I head to Seattle.
“Isn’t that expensive?”
“It’s a reasonable expense considering the short timeline and my current circumstances.” I pat my belly. I’m past the it-looks-like-I’m-bloated stage. There’s an obvious bump now that can’t be hidden, even with loose shirts and leggings.
“Of course. That’s a good idea. If you need any help, though, you know I’m here. I should have made you a casserole or something. I’m sure cooking is a challenge with most of your kitchen packed up.”
“Jake’s been sending me prepared meals, so I’m pretty good foodwise, but I’ll never say no to your chocolate chip oatmeal cookies.”
“He’s not sending you the ones from the grocery freezer section, is he? Those are loaded with salt.” My mother has never, ever bought prepared meals from the freezer section.
“No, Mom. He’s been ordering them from a food prep service called Chef’s Own. You can either prepare the meals entirely ahead of time or they send you the ingredients and you put them together on your own. He’s been having them prepared for me, though, to make it easy.”
“Oh. Well. That’s very thoughtful of him.”
“He is thoughtful like that.” I motion toward the sliding door. “I just made a pot of tea. Can I pour you a cup and we can sit on the back deck? It’s the least cluttered space in the house right now.”
“That would be nice.”
I pour us both a steaming mug and Mom brings the cookies outside.
She looks nervous, probably because she’s worried I’m going to lay into her again.
The thing about looking at your childhood through an adult lens is that you can see all the sides of the situations you were in, but they’re tainted by the emotions and perception of those events based on the age when they happened.
