32. Allie
ALLIE
“I’ll take you back to one of our family suites so you can take a look around, and then, if you’d like, we can sit in on our breastfeeding class that starts at two so you can experience one of the many resources we have to offer here,” the medical assistant whose name I can’t remember—I’ll blame it on pregnancy brain—says as she leads us down the quiet, warmly lit corridor.
“We aim to provide a private and personal approach to your birthing experience, so all of our suites are secluded but spacious. There is plenty of room for anyone you’d like to have with you on your journey.”
I nod, flipping through the pamphlet I was handed when we walked in. This place is nice as hell, but seemingly way out of touch. I mean…it’s a birth and wellness center that offers everything from lamaze to prenatal massage to those breastfeeding courses she mentioned.
It’s structured more like a spa than a facility where women tear their bodies open to create new life. No fluorescent lighting or sterile hospital smell. Soft, classical music echoes throughout the halls and the waiting room at the front, and there are potted plants in all the corners.
It’s lovely, but… “There is no way insurance is going to cover all this,” I whisper to my mom.
“That’s not for you to worry about.” She pats my hand as we reach the end of the hall.
“You cannot pay for something like this,” I hiss back at her.
“We’ll split the cost,” Dahlia says from other side as the assistant opens the door to the birthing suite, urging us inside.
“No, really. I don’t think—”
“Shh,” Dahlia hushes me as we step inside.
The room is…so nice. A massive window spans one side, offering a view of the lush garden courtyard outside. There is a plush bed, and even an oversized bathtub. A kitchenette, couch, small dining table, and corner lamps give the suite a cozy, homey feel.
“Wow,” I breathe.
“It’s very nice.” My mom smiles. “Thanks for showing us around, Becca.”
Becca. Becca, Becca, Becca. Don’t forget her name again.
“Of course.” She nods, reaching for the door handle. “Feel free to take a look around, and you can meet me back up front when you’re finished. I’ll be happy to answer any questions or show you to that breastfeeding class if you’d like.”
She quietly excuses herself as my mother and Dahlia begin making their way throughout the room. I’m not actually sure what they’re looking for or looking at, but they’re both touching things with some kind of intention.
“So, what do you think? Do you like it?” Dahlia asks.
“I mean…it’s great. I just…I don’t know. Do I even want to take this route? Why don’t I just pop the thing out at the hospital like everyone else? And get an epidural while I’m at it.”
Undoubtedly the biggest hang up of this whole holistic labor thing is that it’s unmedicated, and I’m uncomfortable enough just having her sit inside me, I can’t imagine what pushing her out will be like.
“You absolutely can do it that way if you want to, Bee,” Mom says, circling the room. “We just want you to have the opportunity to check out every option so you can decide what’s best.”
I nod, chewing my lip as I glance around the room. “I mean…would you both have given birth at a place like this?”
“Oh, yeah.” Mom nods. “I didn’t do a lot of research when I got pregnant. Kind of just winged the whole thing, honestly. And clearly…” She waves her hand in my direction. “Things turned out fine, but shit…” She whistles. “I could’ve used a fancy bathtub like that. Lemme tell ya.”
Dahlia cackles across the room. “Yeah. I mean, I was nineteen the first time and had no idea what I was doing. With the boys, I was high risk and had to have a C-section, but if the circumstances were different…I would’ve at least considered it.”
I’m enveloped from behind by the familiar scent of my mom as she wraps her arms around my shoulders and kisses my temple. “Talk to your midwife, she’ll help you figure it out. But you’re not going to concern yourself with cost or insurance, okay? We’ll take care of it.”
Dahlia nods in agreement. I hum contemplatively.
I appreciate my parents taking care of me, wanting to do this for us, but it’s hard for me to accept the support when I’m hyperaware of the isolation my future will likely hold.
I’ll be living in an unfamiliar city with an infant after Archer gets drafted, and in an effort to prepare myself for that reality, I’m hellbent on doing everything independently too.
“I am going to go ask her a few questions about insurance while we’re here, though,” Mom says, kissing my cheek again before she walks to the door. “Just meet me out there when you’re done.”
I wave her off as Dahlia checks out the ensuite bathroom.
“So, how are you really feeling?” she asks.
“What do you mean?”
She stands in the doorway, crossing her arms as she looks me over with a raised brow. “I mean… As someone who is not your mother, and won’t have as much of an emotional reaction to your honesty, how are you feeling? About all of it. The pregnancy, the baby…the future.”
Her question springs up the emotion that I’m always fighting to keep at bay—the fear and the insecurity. As that emotion heightens and surges, tears prick behind my eyes, my nose stings, and I’m forced to clench my jaw to keep from crying.
She sees it anyway, offering me a soft smile before she clicks her tongue and pushes off the door frame, closing the distance between us. She wraps me in her arms, hushing me as my tears begin to freefall. “It’s okay. I know, it’s scary.”
“Last week I got an email from Golden State reminding me of the application deadline for the culinary graduate program.” I sniffle.
“I didn’t tell Archer because I didn’t want to upset him.
I was supposed to go back to school. I wanted to spend the summer in Europe.
I…” I shake my head against her shoulder.
“I don’t know what the fuck is going on anymore. ”
“Hey. Hey.” She rubs my back, hushing me. “It’s okay. You’re all right.” Dahlia pulls back, smiling. “Can I tell you a Mom secret?”
I nod.
“None of us have any clue what the fuck is going on. Ever.” She tucks a rogue curl behind my ear. “But I have so much faith in you, sweet girl.”
“You do?”
“Yes.” She laughs, hugging me again. “I wouldn’t want it to be anyone else.”
My nerves settle at the sentiment.
“I was nineteen and pregnant once. Scared, just like you. Giving up my future and all the visions I had for my life. And sometimes, it feels like survival. That’s all you can do.
” She sighs, studying my face with a soft smile.
“Eventually, though, I found people who uplifted me.
Helped me find the balance in it all. My sister and her husband, Everett and his family. My friends.
“Those friends gave me you. And now you have Willow, and the boys. They’ll uplift you, support you, remind you who you are outside of this.” Her hand drifts to my stomach. “They’ll love her with you too. And you’ll still find your dreams.”
I nod, wiping my eyes to hide the evidence of this breakdown before returning to my mom in the lobby. I breakdown with her enough over the phone as it is, so I attempt to keep my emotions in check when we’re together. I don’t want to ruin the time we have.
“I don’t want to give up my dreams. I… I always wanted the bakery,” I finally admit. I’ve never told Dahlia outright, but I’d always hoped someday she’d hand it off to me. “I know it won’t be possible now, but—”
“Allie.” Dahlia laughs. “The bakery is yours. It’s always been yours.”
I shake my head in disbelief, eyes heavy once again. “But…”
“However long it takes, even if it’s when he retires, I know you and Archer will come back home. Whenever that is, no matter how far in the future, The Wicked Wildflower will be yours.”
“I… I don’t know what to say,” I whisper, cracked and fractured.
“Your life will change, and it’ll be hard and heavy and not at all what you expected, but I want you to remember that flowers bloom after frost. So, I want you to continue learning.
Be a teacher to your girl. Dance, and create new recipes, and travel.
Find the time, even when you feel like you can’t.
Don’t lose sight of your dreams, even when the road seems to go on longer than you’d hoped, because the future you’ll find is going to be so much brighter than you thought possible.
” She nods at my stomach, glistening gaze drifting to the swell where her palm sits.
“You’ll get to share it all with her. The three of you. Together.”
My tears return in full force, spilling over my cheeks as I nod. She hugs me one last time—firm and nurturing and confident.
“I’m so proud of you,” she whispers, and I cry even harder.
I didn’t realize how badly I needed her affirmation until I heard it.
The confirmation that not only has she always intended on me taking over the bakery, but that she still does.
That she’s so sure of me—my ability to take over her legacy, to take care of her granddaughter, and to love her son the way he deserves.
She kisses the top of my head. “Let’s go find your mom.”
I nod, composing myself, and wiping my eyes again. Once I’ve recovered, we step out of the birthing suite and head back down the hall. Just as we reach the lobby, a chime echoes from Dahlia’s purse. She pulls out her phone as we round the corner into the lobby.
My mom is standing at the reception desk, discussing the health of a succulent atop the counter in great detail when Dahlia lets out a frustrated grunt.
“What’s wrong?” Mom asks, turning away from Becca and the plant.
“Oh, nothing.” Dahlia throws her phone back into her bag, rolling her eyes exasperatedly. “Some sports news outlet did a feature on Archer and mentioned the boardwalk. We’ve been getting some odd messages to our social media accounts.”
“Like what?” I ask.
“I’d rather you not know,” she mutters. “Some of them are…suggestive. And I know you’re territorial.”
“I will rip someone’s throat out with my teeth.”
She side-eyes me. “Exactly.”
Archer thinks he’s possessive since I’ve been pregnant? I could claw someone’s eyes out just for looking at him too long. His fame will get me in trouble if I’m supposed to pretend like I’m okay with anyone else fawning over him.
I should ask Lou about media training.
“Don’t worry about it.” Dahlia smiles. “It’ll die down.”
I nod, still feeling somewhat uneasy about the prospect of Archer’s popularity. Though, still soaring from the hope Dahlia planted in my chest, it’s easy enough to push away the lingering fear of the future.
I look back at my mom. “You ready to go?”
“Sure am, Bee.” She takes my hand, holding tightly as we leave the wellness center.