Rachael is in a milk haze, half-asleep at the breast, her cheeks rosy and mouth slightly open. Kat glances down at the baby, smiles, then adjusts her top to cover herself.
“I’m sure she was happy for you,” I say. “She’s probably tired—you know how much she works.”
“I know. I know.” Kat sighs.
“Or it might be related to one of her clients? Remember, she spends hours listening to women who desperately want this”—I gesture to Rachael—“and can’t have it.”
Kat nods. “True. But don’t you ever feel judged for wanting to have more kids when you’re with her and Jenn?”
She turns toward me. “Also, isn’t it strange she’s chosen to work in the field she does, with the women she does, when she doesn’t want a baby? Or to be a mother?”
I’ve considered this. Especially after a conversation we had years ago. But I’ve never asked her outright. It seems one of those things she would offer up if she wanted to.
Besides, if given the choice, I would be conserving original artrather than virtual exhibits, and Wyatt would be designing new buildings versus working on refurbishing already existing ones. We do the work that’s available, because bills need to be paid and being idle is not an option. It’s more than possible that Maeve does what she does because that’s where the opportunities exist.
“I don’t know. But it’s awkward sometimes,” Kat says. “Somehow when I talk about my pregnancies or my kids with her, it’s like I’m boring her to tears. As if being a mom—and being able to do so, which of course I’m hugely grateful for—makes me less interesting or something.”
“You know that’s not true.”
“I do! And I’m confident in my decisions,” Kat says. “I do wonder…maybe Maeve wants kids after all? Maybe Jenn’s the one driving that decision?”
“Maybe…” Maeve has never once talked about wanting to be a mother. But that doesn’t mean it isn’t true. “I suppose we can’t know for sure.”
“I suppose not. Besides, it’s none of my business.” Kat sets a sleeping Rachael back into the stroller. “Okay, time for a new topic. Something fun.”
Baby settled, she sits beside me again. “Are you getting the tattoo?”
I laugh. “You think getting a tracker injected counts as ‘fun’ on any level?”
Kat laughs as well. “Maybe ‘fun’ isn’t the right word. But it’s a quick way to see all is well with the baby. My nervous system is steady as a rock, as you know, but I still like the reassurance of it.”
“I haven’t decided,” I say. “But, as you know, Idosuffer from anxiety, so maybe I should? I guess you’re getting another one, then?”
“Already done. This morning, actually.” She shows me the inside of her forearm, where three glossy dots form a small triangle near her wrist crease. The skin is slightly red, the smallest hint of swelling. “Don’t overthink it, Tilly. You’ll appreciate the peace of mind. Trust me.”
After I get home, tucking the few groceries I picked up into the fridge, I decide to register for MotherWise. Kat and Wyatt are right—I’ll appreciate the benefits. I’m still unsure about the pregnancy tattoo, though. It isn’t mandatory, as long as you’re in good health.
“First of all, congratulations on your pregnancy!” the customer service person, Angela, says. I hear the exclamation point in her voice and wonder if it’s real or trained. “Secondly, this call is being recorded for quality and educational purposes. May I proceed?”
“Yes, thanks,” I reply.
“Excellent. Now, let’s see if you’re already in our system, Tilly. What’s the spelling of your last name?”
“C-R-E-W-S-O-N. But it has been years since—”
“There you are!” The woman’s voice is bright and cheery. “Mathilde ‘Tilly’ Crewson, over on Oglethorpe?”
“Yes, that’s me,” I say.
“Seems you were last active…oh, it has been a few years, I see.” Angela’s tone changes. I know she’s likely looking at my cancellation, and the reason why.
“That’s why I wasn’t sure if I would…still be in the system,” I reply, clearing my throat. My watch buzzes.Time for breath work, Tilly?
“We keep all registrants in our database,” Angela says. “It’s easy to reactivate, but in your case that doesn’t seem necessary.”
“What doesn’t seem necessary?” I hit ignore on my watch.
“You’ve already been reactivated, Tilly. It looks like this current pregnancy was registered by a Mr. Wyatt Crewson. Is he your husband?”
