Please confirm you’re available for the full production period. If you have any conflicts (vacations, other projects, family stuff), let me know ASAP so we can plan around it.
Thanks!
Rebecca
The email is reasonable but it feels like someone just walked into my living room, took one look at my belly, and asked, “So, you going to be a problem?”
What am I supposed to say back?
Hi, this all looks great. Quick thing: I’m going to give birth two weeks before we start twelve-hour days.
Hi, I promise I will totally be available while also figuring out how to keep a tiny human alive and attached to my chest.
Hi, please don’t replace me.
My stomach knots.
My phone buzzes against the coffee table, cutting through the spiral. Jake’s name lights up the screen.
Jake
How was day one? Want to celebrate? I can bring dinner.
Just seeing his name does something to my lungs. For a second I picture him here, standing in my kitchen with takeout containers, listening while I word-vomit everything inmy head. The way he would say, “We’ll figure it out,” and wrap his soothing arms around me.
Natalie
Day was good but I’m exhausted. I have a lot of work to do tonight. Need to prep for tomorrow.
The second I hit send, guilt unfurls in my chest.
Jake
You sure? I can just drop food and go. You need to eat.
Natalie
I’m fine. Thanks though.
The dots appear. Disappear. Appear again.
Jake
Okay. Let me know if you change your mind.
I put the phone face down. It feels like I just shut the door in his face. Again.
He’s trying to show up. I’m the one backing away. But keeping him at arm’s length feels like the only way to keep everything else standing. I can’t juggle the writers’ room, the pregnancy, and the possibility of falling in love with the father of my baby without dropping something.
I close the laptop without replying to Rebecca’s email. Adult, professional Natalie will deal with it in the morning. Right now, I just want a five-minute break from being “available for the full productionperiod.”
I lean my head back against the couch and press the heels of my hands into my eyes until colors bloom there.
And then I feel it.
A soft flutter low in my abdomen, like someone tracing the inside of my skin with a feather.
I hold still.
