The Baby Plan

by Kate Rorick

  “Now, I’ve got everything ready,” Kathy said, ushering Nathalie in, David following behind with all the bags—diaper bag, Nathalie’s clothes bag, the breast pump and breast milk Nathalie had been pumping while Margot had been in NICU, and all the supplies the hospital gave them. “There’s lunch and dinner in the fridge—five meals in the freezer, all you have to do is move them to the fridge a day before to defrost. I would put them in the oven for five or ten minutes longer than usual, I think your oven is much more finicky than mine . . .”

  Kathy talked a mile a minute. Nathalie felt that old irritation well up, but she was too pleasantly tired to care. She would let Kathy do what she liked. The baby was where Nathalie’s attention was now.

  Margot was perfect. Even the scar where her chest tube had been was perfect.

  The doctors and nurses in the NICU had been amazing. They’d seen to Margot’s every need. She was, at six pounds, one of the larger babies in the ward, and one of the loudest. One of the nurses even said that having a strong baby like Margot in there was a good example for all the other babies, making them cry loud, too. Nathalie didn’t know if it was true, but it was a nice thing to hear. They’d made Nathalie feel so comfortable, helped her learn her baby, she almost didn’t want to leave.

  Almost.

  Having her home felt right. In their little house, in her feminine blue room, with the finally assembled IKEA furniture.

  “May I . . . ?” Kathy asked, her eyes on the baby.

  Nathalie tentatively handed Margot over.

  “Wait! Did you wash your hands? All visitors are supposed to wash their hands, that’s what the nurse said—”

  “Yes, David,” Kathy singsonged, with a roll of her eyes to Nathalie. “Why don’t you go unpack your bags?”

  “Right. Right—don’t want dirty hospital germs on our stuff. Nat—you should get out of those clothes, shower. Twice.”

  “Why don’t you go first?” Nathalie said, and David, glad to have a task, disappeared into their bedroom.

  “He’s been like that since the surgery. Caution is one thing, but I swear, he’d burn my clothes if I’d let him.”

  Kathy eyed the loose T-shirt and sweatpants she was wearing. “Well, perhaps . . . no, I won’t say anything. I think they look fine.”

  Kathy returned her attention to cooing at the baby.

  “Have you heard from Lyndi?” Nathalie asked.

  “Yes—they’re staying the night with your father’s college roommate in Kansas City. Your father is having a ball, even though the RV is packed to the gills.”

  “Already?”

  “They want to get to Boston before the end of the week,” Kathy replied.

  While Nathalie giving birth four weeks early had been quite the surprise in their family, it was nevertheless topped by Lyndi’s news.

  It was just like her little sister to one-up her.

  “Hey,” Lyndi had said, as she came into the NICU to see Nathalie a few days earlier. “How’s Mom and Margot?”

  “Good—recovering more by the minute,” Nathalie replied. “Killing my boobs with her milk demands.”

  “Yeah, she’s definitely not a vegan.”

  “Marcus will be so disappointed.”

  Lyndi rolled her eyes. “For the hundredth time, he’s gluten-free, not vegan. He just likes vegan food.” Then, she leaned over, and let a gloved hand run over the top of the baby’s head. “I’m so proud of you, Nat.”

  Nathalie blushed, and let her eyes fall to her daughter. “It’s super hard, and incredibly easy at the same time.”

  “You are my inspiration. Seriously, I don’t know how I’m going to do this in seven weeks’ time.” Lyndi hesitated. “Especially so far from home.”

  Her eyes shifted to her sister.

  “I told Paula that I wanted the job in Boston.”

  “You did?”

  “I did. I’m officially a manager, overseeing the opening of the Favorite Flower’s East Coast operations.”

  “Lyndi, that’s—”

  “Insane?”

  “Amazing. But . . . what about Marcus?”

  “He’s coming, too. The website will let him go freelance, submit articles and listicles for publication . . . and he can write his book from anywhere, he doesn’t need to be in LA for that.” Lyndi gave her usual small shrug. “So we are moving in a week. That’s what Mom was doing at my place—helping me pack boxes. I’ll have six weeks to set up the office, and then six weeks off, and then dive right back in. As the boss.”

  “Wow,” Nathalie replied, in awe. “It sounds like you have it all figured out.”

  “Hardly,” Lyndi scoffed. “I have to get an apartment, and a doctor, and figure out how to transpose our business model onto a new city . . .”

  “You can do it,” Nathalie interrupted. “I have complete faith in you.”

  “Thanks . . .” Lyndi said, biting her lip. “I was kind of hoping you would help me make a plan.”

  “Like you could stop me.” Nathalie had laughed—and then the baby, who had been snoozing in the crib so contentedly woke up, and began to bawl.

  And Margot was bawling now, wriggling in Kathy’s arms, turning her head back and forth, searching.

  “Oh, I think this one’s hungry,” Kathy chortled, as Margot began to mouth Kathy’s chest. “Sorry, baby, this bar’s been closed for a while.”

  Nathalie came over and took her daughter back. “Again? I swear, you never stop eating.”

  “I remember you were like that—it used to drive your mom crazy.”

  Nathalie’s head shot up. “What?”

  “You used to eat day and night. Your mom said she’d feed you in her—and your—sleep. You just chow down, and she’d wake up two hours later, still holding you, and you’d still be sucking away.”

  “How do you know that?” she asked. Her entire body had gone still, oblivious to Margot’s wriggling.

  “She told me,” Kathy replied simply. Then, after seeing the look on Nathalie’s face. “Honey, you know your mom and I were friends.”

  Yes, they’d been friends, before Kathy had moved away for work. When she moved back, her mother was already gone.

  “Of course I knew that. I . . . I didn’t know you were friends when she was pregnant with me.”

  “Sweetie, I threw her baby shower!” Kathy cried. “Oh my, and once you came along? We would meet for coffee once a week, just so she had an excuse to get out of the house. And if you were awake, the only thing you wanted to do was eat. And only from the left side—your mom used to joke that she was a D cup on one side and an A on the other.”

  Nathalie could only stand there, in complete disbelief. All this time, she’d been searching for someone to give her answers . . . to give her a clue about what to expect during her pregnancy. She’d been so lost, yearning for her mother. And she’d had the answers in front of her the entire time.

  “What else did she say?” Nathalie asked. “About . . . about me, as a baby?”

  “That you were the most wonderful girl in the world,” Kathy said, tweaking her nose.

  “Right, but I’m looking for specifics. How many ounces did I drink in a sitting? Did I have reflux, baby acne, did she use the cry-it-out method?”

  “Nathalie, I’ll tell you everything I can remember.” Kathy’s eyes flicked down to Margot, whose wriggling had gone from desperate to frantic. “But first why don’t you feed that child? We have all the time in the world, I’m staying all week until your dad gets back. Although, do you have anything besides the air mattress or the couch? My back is not what it used to be. I really wish you would have considered getting a slightly bigger house, I told you—”

  As Kathy chattered away, Nathalie sighed, and her gaze fell to the baby in her arms. Her stepmother was right. They had all the time in the world. Because, while the road might not have been straight, they had made it here at last.

  She was home, a baby at her breast. Finally a mother.

  Exactly as she h
ad planned.

  Acknowledgments

  THIS BOOK’S GESTATION WAS ALMOST EXACTLY nine months long. I know this because I was eleven weeks pregnant when this idea was pitched, and my daughter was about eleven weeks old when I turned in the completed manuscript. And much like with a baby, while I did do most of the work, this book did not come to fruition by my will alone. I have to thank Lucia Macro and Annelise Robey for pushing me to take a risk in a new genre. For my writer friends who cheered the decision, beta read chapters when I was uncertain, and—in one particularly inspired email chain—came up with the unholy confection known as placenta cupcakes. For my doctor sister and my OB, who answered random questions without fail. But most important, my unending gratitude belongs to the numerous women who gave me insight into their pregnancies, their jobs, and their lives . . . then let me co-opt them. Kate, Natalie, Eva, Krystle, and Mom—thank you so much for sharing your stories.

  P.S. Insights, Interviews & More . . .*

  About the Author

  * * *

  Meet Kate Rorick

  About the Book

  * * *

  Research, or Lack Thereof

  Reading Group Discussion Guide

  About the Author

  Meet Kate Rorick

  KATE RORICK is an Emmy Award–winning writer who has worked on a number of television shows, most recently The Librarians on TNT. She was also a writer for the hit web series The Lizzie Bennet Diaries, and authored the series’ two tie-in novels, The Secret Diary of Lizzie Bennet and The Epic Adventures of Lydia Bennet. In her other life, she is the bestselling author of historical romance novels under the name Kate Noble. Kate lives in Los Angeles with her family.

  Discover great authors, exclusive offers, and more at hc.com.

  About the Book

  Research, or Lack Thereof

  I love research. It’s my favorite part of writing, in that I don’t have to be writing to do it. I can be watching TV, reading the internet, visiting a museum, or taking a pole-dancing class, and tell myself that I’m not procrastinating, I’m researching. (Note: I have never taken a pole-dancing class. It looks hard.)

  Of course, some books require more research than others. However, The Baby Plan was an anomaly for me in that it required almost no documentary watching, no poring through books, no scouring the far corners of the internet for a crucial piece of information. Almost no research at all . . . because I was currently living it.

  That’s right, I wrote The Baby Plan while planning for a baby of my own.

  Now, some might think this is a prescient bit of authorial wisdom. Hey, I know, I’ll write a novelization about the experience of being pregnant, and in that way get to write off all my medical expenses! But I’m not as savvy as that. In reality, this book came about because I was desperately trying to figure out what I was going to write next—and not having much luck—when my agent and editor pitched me the idea of “something to do with modern day pregnancy.”

  They thought I could speak to this subject, because I had already gone through it with my now three-year-old son. Surely all I had to do was harken back to that time and put to paper what the experience was like.

  Little did they know I was currently reliving that time, eleven weeks into gestating my daughter.

  At first I was hesitant. Because I couldn’t possibly encompass the vastness of what pregnancy is. It’s harrowing, it’s joyful, it’s disgusting, it’s beautiful. Everyone experiences it differently. But then a lightbulb went off. Since it’s impossible to represent everyone’s pregnancy, I didn’t have to even try. I just had to represent what it was like for Nathalie, Lyndi, and Sophia to be pregnant.

  It can’t be too surprising that many of their experiences turned out to be mine?

  Like Lyndi, I gave up my beloved poached eggs for breakfast, because undercooked eggs are a no-no and this makes me sad to this day.

  Like Sophia, I had some extreme porno-sized boobage.

  Like Nathalie, toward the end of my pregnancy, I was retaining so much fluid it changed the shape of my eyeballs, and I had to forgo contact lenses for the last month or so.

  I would wake up in the night with my hands numb and tingly, from pregnancy-induced carpal tunnel.

  Also, my leg would seize randomly while sleeping, causing me to wake up and freak out my husband while I yelped in pain.

  Both my son and daughter sat on my sciatic nerve, making it almost impossible to walk for the last month of pregnancy. When I absolutely had to move, my husband insisted I use a cane.

  I did drool like a basset hound.

  I did have my mom tell me about her pregnancy-induced genital edema, and that’s something I could have gone my whole life without knowing, thanks.

  I did paint my daughter’s room a feminine blue, which required Pinterest links to convince people it would work.

  I did take a tumble—on the sidewalk, not on my bike—and ended up in Labor and Delivery under observation for a couple of hours one weekend. (Pro tip: it’s pretty boring, so bring a book!)

  I have received daily pastel emails.

  Way too many people asked me how I was feeling.

  In nonpregnancy real life occurrences, my driveway has flooded. I have geotracked a specific Starbucks simply by analyzing a picture (or rather, my brother-in-law got way too into figuring out if it could be done and we discovered that it could). I have broken an IKEA chair.

  And . . . I had a secret pregnancy Twitter account. I needed a place to marvel at the insanity pregnancy brought into my life, but on social media I chose to keep my first pregnancy mostly private, for a hundred different reasons. I worried that I wouldn’t be seen as myself by my job, by my friends . . . and I also worried about if something horrible happened. If everyone knew about the pregnancy, they would then also have to know about this theoretical tragedy. I couldn’t face the idea of having my pain be public. So I kept it to myself as long as possible.

  But I still needed to express myself somehow. To put it out into the ether, yell into the void. So, I created a Twitter account that became the place where I vented in 140-character bursts, under the handle @WTFPreg. It still exists, if you want to check out the real time thought processes of a newbie mom-to-be. Which, it turned out, I needed reminding of.

  As much as it was a coincidence that I was pregnant while writing this book, it was a really good thing that I was. Because all the tiny annoyances and oddities of the first pregnancy had just become a blur of memory by the time I was growing big with my second.

  I cannot emphasize this enough: I had two of the easiest, most run-of-the-mill pregnancies imaginable. No complications. Healthy babies. I also read all the books, was prepared in ways big and small. And yet, the myriad of stuff your body puts you through, that you have to write off as your new normal . . . well, let’s just say none of the movies or TV pregnancies I’d seen prepared me for this.

  So, no matter how well Nathalie planned, or how much experience Sophia had, in retrospect I have decided that Lyndi had the best approach to pregnancy. Whatever will come, will come, and you just have to accept it as it goes along.

  Reading Group Discussion Guide

  The novel opens with a Thanksgiving disaster. What is it about holidays that brings out the worst—and best—in families? Have you ever had a holiday disaster? What happened?

  In your opinion, has the Baby World gotten out of control with showers, gender reveals, and Facebook reveals? Discuss if you feel this is all over-the-top or a chance to celebrate with friends and family.

  Tell us some baby shower or baby party horror stories!

  Lyndi’s friends avoid her once she announces her pregnancy. Do you think they are just being “mean girls” or does Lyndi’s pregnancy somehow make them feel conflicted and confused?

  It’s been said that “sisters are a shield against life’s cruel adversity.” How do you think this is true or not true? In what ways could Lyndi and Nathalie be better sisters?

  In what ways do yo
u feel Nathalie might be too hard on Kathy? Conversely, are there ways that Kathy has been tone-deaf with regard to her stepdaughter’s feelings?

  Sophia’s daughter, Maisey, is horrified that her mother is having a baby. In what ways are Maisey’s feelings justified? Do you think Sophia proceeded without much consideration for her future or her relationship with her near-grown daughter?

  David, Marcus, and Sebastian all deal with impending fatherhood in different ways. Do any of them handle it well? What could they do better? Is there ever validity to men feeling “left out” or “pushed aside” during pregnancy?

  Each woman feels challenged at work during her pregnancy. How do we, as a society, support or not support working pregnant women?

  Discover great authors, exclusive offers, and more at hc.com.

  Also by Kate Rorick

  The Epic Adventures of Lydia Bennet

  The Secret Diary of Lizzie Bennet

  Copyright

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  THE BABY PLAN. Copyright © 2018 by Kate Wilcox. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.