The motherhood mandate, p.12
The Motherhood Mandate, page 12
Rylee gasped. “Um, no!” Her hands automatically rubbed protectively at her small baby bump.
“—however, this is only done if we determine that there is a significant risk of genetic abnormality,” he continued.
“But you’d also be able to verify paternity, right?” Sam asked, shooting a glance at Rylee.
She looked away. How could he even think that this baby wasn’t his?
“We could,” the doctor slowly replied, looking at Rylee, then back at Sam, “but given the circumstances, we’d need approval from the Court to run a paternity test if we need to proceed with amniocentesis.”
Sam took a deep breath and nodded, a disappointed look settling on his face.
Dr. Zastrow looked down, clearly uncomfortable, and then cleared his throat before he began to quiz Rylee about her appetite, morning nausea, and periodic lightheadedness. It almost sounded like a repeat of Erin’s endless questions about how their bodies were changing.
As they talked, she looked over to Sam. He seemed to have tuned most of it out, even though he hadn’t buried his face in his phone again. Every once in a while, Dr. Zastrow would try to include Sam in the conversation, but Sam would just nod. It was as if Rylee didn’t exist.
After a few more minutes, Sam pulled out his phone. He glanced at it and then put it away. “Um, I hate to interrupt, but I need to leave soon,” he told them. “I have a test today. It’s a third of my grade, so I can’t miss it.”
Dr. Zastrow stood. “That’s fine,” he said, giving Sam a disapproving look. He turned back to Rylee. “Please touch base with our billing department. I believe we may have gotten approval for your doula.” Then, he looked back at Sam. “I’ll see you again in four weeks.”
He left, not quite slamming the door behind him. Sam looked at Rylee in surprise. “What did I do?” he asked.
Rylee got off the exam table and smoothed her clothing. “Doesn’t matter,” she finally told him with a shrug. “You’re going to be late for your test.” If you even have a test today, she thought.
Chapter Nine
Rylee looked out the car window, glaring at the rundown, three-story place that was next on Sam’s list of potential apartments. The old house had started as a simple single-family unit. At some point, the owner had broken it up into two small apartments.
The siding was a faded gray, with brown brick, window casings, and door frames. A small balcony overlooked the front doors. Dead plants wilted in pots lining one side of the steps leading in.
She still couldn’t believe Sam had gone through and eliminated all of her candidates from the potential list of apartments. Even the single bedroom with a large den! Somehow it kept coming back to money.
Sam was staring at her from the sidewalk. Rylee sighed and slowly got out of the car, bracing herself for what was to come. There was no way this place was going to work.
She followed Sam up the slightly uneven wooden steps to the front doors. He knocked on the right door and a woman let them in.
“Sam, right?” she asked.
Sam nodded. “We’re here about the apartment.”
She opened the screen door. “Come on in,” she said with a smile. She waited until they were both in the small entry, then gestured up the stairs. “This way.”
Rylee grabbed the handrail and dutifully trailed after the pair as they quickly climbed the old wooden stairs to a small living room. A two-seat couch hugged the space directly under the front windows, with a recliner pushed into the far corner. A dozen or so boxes were piled up in front of a small entertainment center on the far wall.
The property manager walked across the room and into the small kitchen. It had two different styles of cabinets on either side of the wall. A kitchen sink was tucked into one corner, almost an afterthought.
“This place is about as big as my bedroom,” Rylee muttered as they followed the apartment manager to the second floor. “I can’t believe you’re suggesting that we live in such a dump!” she hissed.
Sam shot her a dirty look over his shoulder. “Well, if you hadn’t spent so much on maternity clothes, and your urgent spa time, we might have been able to afford more!” Sam retorted. “We need to save some money!”
“Well, excuse me for being pregnant and needing deep tissue massages!” Rylee shot back. “This baby of yours is starting to push my back out of place and I can’t take anything for the pain! Besides, if we’re running out of money, maybe you should, you know, work more hours!”
“Yeah, that would work, wouldn’t it, Rylee?” Sam growled. “Maybe I should just drop out of school so that I can give you money for more massages! Besides, why don’t you use your own money?”
“Because you and my father have made it very apparent that I have to turn every single receipt into the Court, Sam!” she snarled at him. “Which means my parents can’t cover my bills anymore. It’s not like I can walk into any business, and they’d just hire me!”
Rylee followed him into the bathroom. It was no bigger than a closet, Rylee thought. How could he expect them to live like this?
Sam turned around to look at her. “Look,” he said, lowering his voice. “We really need to get a place, and this one will do until we find something better. It’s only $950 a month.”
Rylee looked over at the pedestal sink, giving it a critical eye before turning to him. “I don’t like this. There’s no room for my make-up or anything.”
“We can get a small cabinet or some shelves or something,” he replied. “There’s plenty of room against that wall.” She opened her mouth to protest, but he overrode her. “As it is, this place doesn’t become available until January 1st. We don’t have a lot of options and are running out of time.”
She glared at him. She’d given him a list of acceptable apartments, including the three-bedroom at the East Home Complex. He’d turned every single one of them down.
She sighed. “Point,” she finally replied. “I just need this to be over.”
“You and me, both,” Sam said with a sigh.
Rylee left the bathroom to check out the bedrooms. Sam followed her. They were approximately the same size, with tiny closets and windows on two sides of the room. The room in the back had more of an airy feeling, despite its size. She could see the tops of the trees in the backyard.
She stood with her back to the window, looking out into the hallway. It wasn’t fair, she thought. Mackenzie had cut the rent to only $1,500.
The apartment manager poked her head into the room. “Would you like to check out the backyard?” she asked, a wry smile playing on her lips. No doubt she heard the argument.
“Sure,” Sam said as he walked out of the other bedroom. He headed down the stairs after her, and Rylee carefully followed them.
“There’s only room for one car in the garage,” she told them. Street parking was always an option, but Rylee knew it would become almost impossible to find, given winter parking restrictions. Plus, she doubted the garage had an EV hookup.
Sam explored the small yard. An ancient grill sat outside of the garage, missing the propane tank that should have been nestled underneath the burners. An old picnic table had been placed near the back steps, the worn brown paint peeling from exposure. A rusted fire bowl and a few folding lawn chairs were propped up against the side of the house.
“I’ll leave the two of you alone to decide,” the manager told them. “I’ll be upstairs if you need me.”
Sam nodded and took a seat at the old picnic table. She sighed, but after a moment, she carefully sat down across from him. Ancient food stains had soaked into the unprotected wood. She grimaced, but finally found a place for her hands.
Sam reached over the table for her hand. Rylee briefly hesitated, then gently put her hand in his. He absently rubbed his thumb against the back of her hand a few times, studying their hands. It reminded her of better times. When they didn’t have to yell at each other to make their point.
Sam looked up, a sad expression on his face. “This is the least expensive place we’ve seen, Rylee,” he told her. “We need to pick a place so we can check it off the list.”
Rylee stared at him. She’d already told him she couldn’t live poor. What more was there to say? That she was terrified of living in such a bad neighborhood? That she felt like she was giving up everything she had just to have this baby?
He shook his head. “It’s only temporary until we can find a place we can afford,” he told her.
Rylee sighed, leaning forward to stare at the worn table beneath their hands. She wasn’t going to win this one. “Okay,” she finally said. “We can take this place for now as long as we can keep looking.”
Sam nodded once. He stood up, pulling out his wallet. He looked down at her and she slowly got to her feet. She wasn’t sure how long it would take the property manager to run their application and credit check, but she was not looking forward to the coming months.
A week later, Rylee wandered around the first floor of the Birthing Center, completely lost. She’d parked in a nearby parking structure, only to discover the entrance was for another medical building on the campus. So, she’d found her way outside, entered a side door, and found herself wandering the hallways.
Eventually, a nurse took pity on her and directed her to the front desk to check in. She sat down on a nearby couch and checked the time. She sighed. Ten minutes late. Hopefully, she wouldn’t have to reschedule. She was meeting Sam after lunch.
“Rylee Williams?”
Rylee turned around. An older woman, with short blond hair and an easy smile, stood near the front desk. She nodded and went to meet her.
“I’m Rylee,” she said. “Are you Diana?”
“I am,” Diana said. “Why don’t we go to my office so we can talk?”
Rylee nodded. “Of course.
She followed Diana down a brightly lit corridor. Large windows lined one side of the hallway, allowing natural light to filter in. The soft, muted tones of pale blue and pink on the walls blended with the warm, neutral carpet.
Diana opened the door to an office on the right. There was no desk, just a few comfortable seats around a small table.
“Why don’t you have a seat?” Diana asked. She picked up the tablet from the table and settled it on her lap.
Rylee sat, looking around. The far wall was a floor-to-ceiling window, with a snow-covered shrub hugging the bottom quarter of the view. The wall to her right held an enormous whiteboard, with diagrams and pages magnetically pinned at random intervals. It was a calm type of chaos.
“According to the information you uploaded on MyChart, you’re seventeen weeks pregnant,” Diana told her as she rapidly scanned the site on her tablet. “That means your due date is April 22nd, give or take a few weeks.” She crinkled her nose in amusement.
“What do you mean?” Rylee asked.
“This is your first pregnancy, right?” Diana asked. Rylee nodded. “First pregnancies can take a bit longer. When I’m scheduling first-time mothers, I always create a four-week window.”
Rylee gasped. “Four weeks?!”
Diana laughed. “Two weeks on either side of the due date,” she told Rylee. “Some babies are early. Some are late. And some,” she said as she reached over to place her hand on Rylee’s, “some are right on time!”
Rylee smiled in return.
“Now, before we get started on discussing your birth plan, I’m going to need to ask you a few questions,” Diana told her with a warm smile. “A doula is part mentor, part birthing instructor. But, I’m much more than that, Rylee. I provide my clients with both emotional and physical support, not only during the actual labor, but also before and after their baby is born. This means I need to get a bit deeper into your life than you might be comfortable with.” She paused, searching Rylee’s face for a moment. “Anything you tell me will be held in the highest confidentiality.”
“What do you need to know?” Rylee asked, a bit perplexed. “Everything should be in my medical file.”
Diana sighed. “I’m somewhat familiar with the WIFE program,” she told Rylee, her quiet voice and soft expression putting Rylee more at ease than her actual words. “I have a few questions about how involved your partner is.”
“Oh,” Rylee murmured. She took a deep breath and let it out. “What do you need to know?”
Diana smiled. “Thank you for trusting me,” she said. “First, your partner’s name is Sam, right?”
Rylee nodded.
“How involved is he with your preparations?” Diana asked. “I know he’s required to go to all doctor appointments and the birthing classes, but has he been actively engaged?”
Rylee looked away. She shook her head sadly. “He’s taken me shopping a few times, and we finally found a temporary apartment to live in until the baby’s born, but otherwise . . . ” Her voice trailed off.
“That happens sometimes,” Diana told her. “Either way, we’ll work through this together. Sound like a plan?”
Rylee nodded.
“Good!” Diana slapped both hands against her lap, then stood. “Let me grab a few things and we’ll get started on your birth plan, which is subject to change, based on what you need. Nobody else!”
Rylee leaned back in her chair, watching as Diana pulled a few pieces of paper off the whiteboard for her. She’d already taken the Preparing for Labor course, but it was just a basic overview and she had so many questions.
Diana sat back down and passed Rylee the tablet. Time to get to work, she thought.
Rylee pulled yet another maternity top out of the rack, shook her head at the poor-quality fabric, and quickly put it back. She needed to plug a few holes in this ‘capsule wardrobe’ she was supposed to be wearing for the next few months, but this was ridiculous. It didn’t matter that the store was having a ‘blowout’ sale. What mattered was finding something that wouldn’t fall apart the first time she had it washed.
She moved to the next overstuffed rack. Sam slowly followed, holding the few items that had made it to the ‘maybe’ list. He was clearly irritated, but too bad. He’d complained so much about how much she was spending. Let him see the effort that she was putting into saving money.
A maroon dress caught her eye. Long-sleeved. Boiled wool. That might work for this year’s Advent by Candlelight. She checked the label. Fifty percent off. She handed it over to Sam and continued moving down the aisle.
Sam cleared his throat, moving closer. “Did you hear that Tyler and Devi have decided to put their baby up for adoption? Makes me wonder—”
“Stop it, Sam,” she snapped. “Adoption is not on the table and never will be!”
“Why not?” he demanded. “Don’t you want to get your life back when this is over?”
She stopped and pulled a navy two-piece dress out. She studied it for a moment before putting it back. Not long enough to hide the tracker.
“I do, Sam,” she conceded. “But giving this child up for adoption is not an option.”
Sam frowned. For a moment, he looked like a child who had been told he couldn’t have another slice of pie for dessert. “Can you at least tell me why?” he demanded.
Rylee gave him a long look before she moved deeper into the store. “This baby is a miracle,” she told him. “An actual gift from God. I shouldn’t have been able to get pregnant and I am not giving up this baby.” She paused to pull a few sweaters out of the shelves against the far wall.
“Why couldn’t you get pregnant?” he asked, ducking around the shelves so that he could look directly at Rylee.
She sighed. This was not the right place to have this discussion, but she didn’t think he’d be satisfied with her brushing him off. “Because I have fibroids and my ovaries don’t really work,” she finally told him. She handed one of the sweaters to him. “Same as Chloe. Which means this may be my only chance of becoming a mom. I have to take it, whether I’m ready or not.”
“What about me?” he growled at her. “I’m not ready for any of this shit!”
“Neither am I, obviously,” she snapped, throwing another sweater in his direction. “But we have to make this work.”
Sam caught the sweater and glared at her. “How?” he demanded. “I’ve given up tennis. My scholarships. I’m not going to graduate on time. I even got a side job to help pay for all of this. It’s not enough, Rylee. How are we going to make this work?”
Rylee grabbed the pile of clothes and glared up at him. “We will find a way,” she snapped. “Just because you’ve given up doesn’t mean that I will!” And, with that, she fled to the changing rooms.
She locked herself into the first open room, then sat, clothing falling to the floor at her feet. She covered her face with her hands as hot tears threatened to flow. Stop it! she told herself. Never, ever, let them see you cry!
After a long moment, she fumbled for her purse and pulled out a tissue. Then, she studied her face in the mirror as she carefully blotted away the evidence. Blotchy eyes. Smeared makeup. Great. She pulled her emergency gear out of her purse and got to work fixing her face.
She didn’t understand why Devi had agreed to give up her baby for adoption. She’d never mentioned it at the group meetings. Was she being forced to do this so that she could stay and finish her master’s degree? Was this any of her business?
Possibly not. She put her makeup away and looked down at the pile of clothes on the floor. She didn’t care if this stuff was on sale—time to go home.
That night, Rylee stared at the chessboard, plotting her opening move. Her mom had moved her pawn two paces ahead, directly in front of the king. Should she mirror that or advance her rook’s pawn?
Her phone chimed. She looked down. A text from Devi.
She quickly moved the rook’s pawn forward, then picked up her phone to read the message. After Sam had dropped her off, she’d sent a quick text to Devi just to see how she was doing. She hadn’t expected a response.
Not good. Can we meet for coffee?
