32. Isabella
Ihad two problems: One, the only semblance of a meal I could keep down consisted of oyster crackers and chicken broth. And two, I was undeniably, unquestionably, going to be late for my annual doctor’s appointment that had somehow snuck up on me in the chaos of everything going down at the brownstone.
Yesterday, Max had dropped me off at my parents’ house and I’d slept long and hard for the rest of the day. I padded downstairs around nine in the evening to raid the kitchen cabinets in hopes of finding something that didn’t make my stomach turn. Was the flu going around?
Myplan was to lay in bed all day today. I’d already sent out a canned email response to all my clients informing them I’d be out of touch for a minute while I recovered from a light illness. Well, I was hoping it was light, I still didn’t really know what was going on. I’d been snuggled deep in my covers, You’veGotMail playing on a low volume in the background, when my phone buzzed.
Itwasn’t the sound of a text, but rather a calendar reminder. Picking up the phone, my eyes squinted in the dimly lit room and flew open when I realized I had exactly twenty-three minutes to get over to my doctor’s office.
Iwouldn’t normally care about needing to reschedule at the last minute, but with an upset stomach, I’d decided to pull it together. I threw on an oversized hoodie and yoga pants before stuffing my feet into some old sneakers.
Ibarely glanced in the mirror, knowing time was of the essence. There was no way I could wait for my parents’ car service—there simply wasn’t time. So, I dashed out the door, my steps quick and determined as I hailed a taxi on the busy streets outside. It was just my luck the first one to stop reeked of stale cigarettes; the driver attempted to mask the smell with an overpowering, cheap car freshener. The combination made my stomach churn even more, and I cracked the window open, trying to breathe in some fresh air amidst the traffic.
Thedrive was a slow crawl, the city’s traffic unforgiving. I had to focus on my breathing to keep the nausea at bay with each lurching stop and start of the cab. The minutes ticked by, my anxiety rising with each passing second. By some miracle, I made it to the doctor’s office with a minute to spare. I handed the driver a wad of cash, not bothering to wait for change, and stumbled out onto the sidewalk.
Thecool air was a relief after the stifling atmosphere of the cab, but I had no time to enjoy it. I rushed inside, checking in at the front desk with hurried, clipped words. The receptionist took one look at my pale face and directed me to the waiting room for sick patients, a quieter area with plush chairs that felt like a haven in my current state.
Isank into one of the chairs, grateful for the relative calm and the gentle hum of the air-conditioning. The waiting room was dimly lit, a deliberate choice to soothe the senses, and I found myself closing my eyes, trying to steady my breathing. The plush fabric of the chair felt soft against my skin, a small comfort as I waited to be called back.
Mymind raced with possibilities, the uncertainty of what was wrong with me nagging at the back of my thoughts. Yet, at that moment, surrounded by the soft sounds of the waiting room, I allowed myself a moment of rest, hoping for answers soon.
Ibarely had time to settle into the sterile, brightly lit examination room before the nurse came in. She took my vitals with a practiced ease, the blood pressure cuff tightening around my arm with a familiar squeeze. I barely listened to the numbers she rattled off. My mind was elsewhere, fixated on the queasiness that had taken up residence in my stomach.
Afteran eternity, or more likely a few minutes, my doctor breezed into the room with a cheerful, “Good afternoon, Izzy! Ready to get that IUD swapped out, or are we thinking of other family plans?”
Iblinked, certain I’d misheard her. “I’m sorry, what?”
Shechuckled, flipping through my medical file on my tablet. “Yup, it’s been in there for . . . ninety-six, oh actually, ninety-eight months now. It’s time to replace it for maximum efficacy.”
Mymind reeled, trying to grasp the timeline she was outlining. Has it really been eight years since I had the IUD inserted? My doctor’s words from back then echoed in my memory: “Izzy, make sure you use backup birth control in the last few months before you get it replaced. We haven’t really narrowed it down to exactly when efficacy begins to dip.”
Ohno.
Awave of panic washed over me, cold and relentless. “I think I might need a pregnancy test first,” I blurted out, my voice barely above a whisper. My heart hammered in my chest, and I felt my face drain of color.
Thedoctor’s demeanor shifted instantly from cheerful to calm, professional concern etched on her face. “Okay, let’s take a step back. Tell me what’s been going on,” she said, her tone soothing, as she pulled up a chair next to the examination table.
Irecounted the past few days, the sudden aversion to food, the overwhelming nausea, and the incident at the Nook. The realization that I might have overlooked the critical timing of my IUD replacement loomed over me like a dark cloud.
Thedoctor listened intently, nodding as I spoke. WhenI finished, she placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. The first step is to take a pregnancy test. Whatever the result, we’ll figure out the next steps together,” she said, her voice imbued with a calm certainty that helped steady my fraying nerves.
Inodded, a lump forming in my throat. The possibility of being pregnant hadn’t even crossed my mind until now, and the reality of the situation was beginning to sink in. The doctor left the room to give me some privacy, and I sat there in the paper gown, feeling more vulnerable than I ever had before.
HereI was, having meticulously laid out a plan for my life, ticking off each milestone with precision. Buy the house, fix it up with Max, a small wedding once it feels like home, then start trying for a family. Everything was supposed to happen in a certain order, a sequence I had convinced myself was the right path.
Andyet, as I sat there, I couldn’t help but feel the weight of the surprise. Pregnancy was the furthest thing from my mind, a distant “next step” that suddenly felt like it might be thrust upon me without warning. The concept of motherhood wasn’t something I was opposed to. It was the timing and the sheer surprise of it all that threw me.
Ihad envisioned a certain timeline for these milestones, a way to ensure everything was perfect and Max and I were ready. But life had its own plans, and the realization left me adrift in a sea of uncertainty. It was a reminder of life’s unpredictability, a lesson in the futility of trying to control every aspect of our existence. How would Max react? Were we ready for this? Could we handle the accelerated timeline fate seemed to be pushing us toward?
Asthe doctor returned, her expression unreadable, I took a deep breath, ready to face whatever news she had for me.
* * *
WhenI walked through the door of my parents’ house, my mother was there, her presence both a comfort and a reminder of the conversation I dreaded having. Her keen eyes missed nothing, and she immediately sensed the storm of emotions brewing within me.
“Isabella, what’s on your mind?” she asked, her voice gentle yet probing as she guided me to sit beside her on the plush sofa that faced the panoramic windows overlooking GramercyPark.
Thewords tumbled out with a chuckle before I could stop them. “Mom, I’m pregnant.” My voice was a mix of fear and anticipation, bracing for her disappointment or judgment, especially since Max and I weren’t even engaged.
Herreaction was nothing like I expected. She chuckled softly, shaking her head with a mixture of amusement and pride. “Isabella, you’re not sixteen. Did you think I was going to scold you?” she asked.
Iraised my eyebrows at her. “I mean, kind of. We’re not even engaged, Mom,” I said, leaning back into the sofa.
“Isabella, do you want to be a mother? Do you want that right now?” she asked.
“I actually told Max the other day that if I could’ve planned it perfectly, I would’ve bought the brownstone, fixed it up, gotten married, and pregnant all in the same day,” I admitted.
Shelaughed. “Okay, sweetheart, this seems right in line with what you wanted, is it not? Who cares if you and Max aren’t engaged? This is your life, your journey, your happiness. Don’t let outdated societal norms dictate how you feel about this wonderful news.”
Herwords washed over me, a soothing salve to the turmoil I felt. My mother, a world-renowned sex therapist, had spent her career challenging societal norms and advocating for personal freedom in matters of sex and relationships. Her support at this moment was unwavering, and my belief in the right to choose one’s own path was clear.
“If you strip away everyone else’s expectations, Iz, would you be happy about this?” she asked, her gaze locking onto mine, searching for the truth beneath the layers of societal conditioning.
Herquestion pierced through the fog of my uncertainties, forcing me to confront what I truly felt, absent the weight of expectation. WouldI be happy? The answer came from a place deep within, a resounding yes that filled me with a sense of clarity and purpose. Yes, the timing was unexpected, but the more I allowed myself to feel without the shadow of “shoulds” and “supposed tos,” the more I realized how much I wanted this—how much I wanted a family with Max.
Mymother’s smile widened, my eyes sparkling with unshed tears as she reached for my hand, squeezing it gently. “Then that’s all that matters, Izzy. This baby is a blessing, a new chapter in your incredible story. And you have my full support, every step of the way.”
Heracceptance and encouragement felt like a balm to my soul, the fears and doubts that had clouded my mind beginning to dissipate. In their place, excitement and anticipation bloomed, the possibilities of what lay ahead filling me with a newfound sense of joy.
“We’ll navigate this together,” she continued, her voice firm yet tender. “You’re not alone, sweetheart. You have a family, a partner who loves you, and now, a little one on the way. There’s nothing more beautiful than that.”
Aswe sat together, the sun dipping below the horizon, the sense of peace that enveloped me was profound. My mother’s words had given me the strength to embrace my future with open arms, free from the constraints of societal expectations. This wasn’t about following a prescribed order of milestones. It was about carving out my own path, one filled with love, laughter, and now, a new life. And in that moment, I knew everything was going to be just fine.