“ ‘The lady doth protest too much, methinks,’ ” Kat says. “FromHamlet. That’s the line.”
She sips her water before giving Nick a pointed look. “Let’s leave Dr. Jenn be, babe. She’s busy saving the world.”
“So are you, Kitty-Kat. One precious baby at a time.” Nick kisses his wife’s cheek. Her four gold rings shine brightly against her neck.
At our second ultrasound with Dr. Laura Fillia, my ob-gyn, I watch the fluttering heartbeat on the screen.Please keep going, please keep going, please keep going, I think. Dr. Fillia, who knows my history, is quick to tell us everything looks “perfect—right on track, Mom and Dad.”
Wyatt takes a clip of the video where the fetus appears to be waving, adds a text tag that reads, “Hi, Mommy!,” and sends it to me later with a simpleLove You, We’ve Got Thismessage. I feel the warmest of glows for my husband and our little bundle. That afternoon I disclose the pregnancy to GIA’s HR department, my colleagues, and Cecil. Luckily the lab already has high-level health-and-safety procedures in place, so nothing has to change in terms of the conservation.
Wyatt’s not only excited but also impatient for me to register for MotherWise. He keeps referencing Nick’s comments about the improved benefits and perks. I try, and fail, to find a way to explain my anxiety about making that call. Superstition trumps logic, it seems.
“You’ll have on-call, top-of-the-line medical care at your fingertips, twenty-four seven, Tilly,” he says. I’m grateful he’s spared me fromhaving to speak the worry out loud. “And don’t forget the NourishBoxes, which Nick said are worth hundreds of dollars a month.”
Still, I’m not ready. “Give me another week,” I tell him. “Then I’ll register. Promise.”
“Okay, one more week,” Wyatt replies. I appreciate his patience with me, and tell him so.
—
“How are you feeling?” I ask Kat as we walk down York Street, which is shaded by both the oak trees and today’s cloud cover. I miss the changing seasons back home. When the air begins to crisp and the maples are crowned with vibrant red, orange, and yellow leaves. Here in Savannah it’s still summertime warm this time of year, everything green and lush.
“Decent,” Kat replies, holding a decaffeinated iced tea in one hand and a bright red apple in the other. Her stroller is on hands-free mode, seven-month-old Rachael napping as we walk. “As long as I keep food in my stomach, I’m okay.” She bites into the apple, the crunch of it audible.
I was right to wonder at my birthday dinner if she and Nick had news. She’d waited a few days to tell me, not wanting to shift focus away from my celebration. Our due dates are only one week apart.
“Same here.” I had a snack not long before our walk. “I’ve been craving popcorn. The old movie theater kind, dripping with fake butter. What’s funny is that I never liked movie theater popcorn.”
“Bet you need sodium.” Kat sips her iced tea, the stroller continuing its leisurely pace mere inches ahead of us. “I had a wicked craving for bananas yesterday, and like five minutes later my watch sent me a low-potassium alert. Our bodies know what we need—just have to listen to them. That, and pay attention to this.” She raises her arm, showing her watch.
We turn up Abercorn and walk past the Owens-Thomas House,impressive in stature, the green shutters the identical shade from when I first visited Savannah with Wyatt. The old colonial mansion was featured on our ghost tour and is supposedly home to many spirits. Most notably the Lady in Gray, believed to be the ghost of former owner Margaret Thomas. Like many of the estate homes in downtown Savannah, the Owens-Thomas House has been refurbished. I wonder what happened to the Lady in Gray once the renovations started.
A cool breeze tickles my arms as I stare up at the top-floor windows, the shutters closed against the heat. I have the oddest sensation I’m being watched, despite the shuttered windows. Goose bumps rise on my arms, and I’m about to ask Kat if she felt the breeze, but Rachael has begun to fuss.
“I need to feed her. Let’s grab a bench in the square,” Kat says. The breeze and goose bumps disappear, and I chide myself for letting my imagination control my nervous system like that. I do a round of box breathing, Kat oblivious, busy with the stroller.
There’s plenty of activity today in Oglethorpe Square, with a seniors’ group doing tai chi and a gaggle of kids enjoying the splash pad.
We settle onto a bench, and Kat pulls out a mesh breastfeeding sling. “These are life-changing,” she says, settling Rachael into the sling. “Ideal position for nursing, gives me my hands back, but cool enough so Rae doesn’t overheat.”
The baby latches quickly. “MotherWise will send one in your welcome basket. Have you signed up yet?” Her tone is light, but I can tell the question isn’t hers alone.
I raise an eyebrow. “Did Wyatt say something?”
Kat smiles, caught. “He chatted with Nick about it.” She glances down at Rachael, nursing contentedly. I rest a hand on my mostly flat belly, imagining the two of us sitting here in some months, nursing our newborns together.
“It’s best to register early, Tilly. You won’t believe all the great stuff you can access now.”
“So I’ve heard,” I reply, a band of tightness settling over mystomach. MotherWise was in its infancy when I became pregnant with Poppy. Bare-bones, compared to now. NourishBoxes weren’t added until the pilot program’s second phase, about a year later. “I’m going to register. Soon.”
Kat nods but seems distracted. “Listen, can I talk to you about something?”
I’m concerned by her cautious tone. My shoulders tighten. “Sure. What’s up?”
“Have you spoken to Maeve? Like, in the past few days?”
“No.” I haven’t spoken with Maeve in a week—she’s been away with Jenn. “Why?”
“She was weird when I told her Nick and I were expecting again. Like, she seemed happy for me…you’re such a good mom, Kat, this is exactly what you and Nick wanted, congratulations…but it seemed put on.”
