I sigh. The last time she saw me, I’d just discovered I was pregnant, but we’d decided not to tell anyone until we were a bit further along in case something happened.
Just like it did.
I drink my coffee and appraise Mae. If Seth never told her, I don’t want to overstep, but on the other hand, she’s finally opened up about something that’s been hard for her and deserves the truth in return. Especially if she wants to fully understand how finely balanced our emotions are likely to be for a while.
“I was pregnant,” I tell her. Her eyes widen, and she touches her fingers to her lips as if to prevent herself from making a sound. “But before we were confident enough to tell anyone, I miscarried.” I press my lips together, tears swelling behind my eyes at the memory. “It was still in the early stages, but we’d gotten carried away. Chosen a girl’s name and a boy’s name. It was hard to keep going after that.”
Mae reaches for me and takes my hand. “I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine what you went through.”
My throat tightens to the point where I don’t think words are possible, so I force myself to breathe in slowly and relax the muscles. “She was a girl,” I whisper. “We found out after the miscarriage. Her name was Cara.”
“Oh, Ashlin.” Her voice is thick with sympathy.
I shake my head and get to the point. “The problem was that neither of us seemed to know how to communicate our grief. It felt like the future had been snatched away from us. I had a depressive period where I wouldn’t leave the house for days. Seth went the other route and worked from dawn until late at night. I can see now that he was working through his grief in a different way, but at the time it seemed like he was fine while I was drowning.”
A whimper escapes Mae. Her hazel eyes shimmer with emotion, and I can tell she’s fighting back the urge to hug me until I’ve finished talking because she doesn’t want to cut me off.
“It was my choice.” The words are difficult to say because it means admitting the dark place I found myself in. “I didn’t know what to do without him around, and I realized how dependent I’d let myself become on him for happiness. Days became weeks and nothing got better. I felt like my life was falling apart. Then, when I told him I wanted a divorce, he didn’t fight me. Just let it happen. I figured he was relieved.”
“Oh, Ash.” Mae gets to her feet and hauls me into a hug. She holds on, refusing to let go, and I find comfort in her embrace. A tear trickles down my cheek, but I don’t swipe it away. My therapist says it’s better to let emotion out than try to repress it. Move through it, but don’t wallow.
When Mae finally releases me, her cheeks are damp. “I wish I’d known.”
I shake my head. “Don’t do that to yourself. We’ve accepted it and we’re moving on. Trying again. There’s no point dwelling on the past.”
She kisses my cheek. “When did you get so wise?”
Despite the tears, I smile. “Who the heck knows?” I sit, and indicate for her to do the same. “Anyway, perhaps you can see why trying to get pregnant again is such a big deal for us.”
“I do.” She taps the counter absent-mindedly. “I’m glad it’s brought you back to us.”
“So am I,” I admit. “I feel like I’m ready to be the woman who can stand with Seth instead of depending on him.”
“As it should be. Are you still planning another round of IVF now that you’re together again or will you do it differently?”
“Yes, we’re going for IVF but we haven’t put a timeframe on it yet. The chances are just better, considering the damage done to my body the first time around.”
“Fair enough.” Her eyes search mine, and she hesitates, then takes the plunge. “Do you love him?”
I don’t answer immediately, but pause to ponder the question. I feel so much for him, it’s difficult to call it something so simple as love. We have nostalgia, deep caring, years of shared memories. But then, we’re not the same people we were and I adore the man I’m coming to know.
“I might,” I say. “But I’m afraid to let myself love him fully because in my mind, I associate romantic love with dependency, and I don’t want to end up in that situation again.”
To my surprise, Mae smiles. “That won’t happen. Not to the young woman I’ve been talking to for the past fifteen minutes. She’s strong enough to manage anything, or haven’t you been listening?” When I frown, she continues more gently. “Ash, you’ve got this. Maybe you needed some time apart, but you’ve grown as a person in the last few years and I already know that if, God forbid, you were to have another miscarriage, you’d survive. You’re so much more self-possessed than you were. I can see the change in you from the outside looking in.”
I’m speechless. I don’t know what to say.
“Seth has changed, too,” she adds. “Do you think I could have had the conversation I did with him yesterday when he was younger? He wasn’t ready to hear it, and didn’t have the communication skills to work it through. But now he does. He was forced to learn them, thanks to you.”
“You think?”
She nods. “You’re not the only one who’s changed.”
“I know.” Hearing her say it, I feel foolish for not realizing sooner the extent to which we’ve both changed.
“Good.” She drinks more of her coffee. “I’m glad to have you back in the family. If you ever need someone to talk to, or if you need a woman’s ear, I’m only a phone call away. I hope you consider me family. I’ve always thought of you that way. Even after the divorce.”
The tears start again, and I laugh self-consciously. “Now you’ve done it. Of course I think of you as family, Mae.”
