Page 45 of Julian's Curse

I had to be honest with myself. I wasn’t ready to be a mom—not with my career and school. Still, I could handle those, but not the fear for our child’s health. I’d read enough to know this might be the best decision.

The nurse set up the ultrasound machine, checking the settings and preparing the transducer. Next, she applied a generous amount of gel to my stomach. But we had to move to the transvaginal part to even see anything at all.

“For now, we can only see the gestational sac, Lucie, not the yolk yet. We’d like that you come in three days for another test, just to rule out ectopic pregnancy. However, we can still proceed with the abortion pill,” she informed me.

At 5 week, and 3 days, it was too soon to see anything, yet I dreaded the thought of having to come back here. “Sure,” I agreed as she turned off the device, and then had me clean myself.

And that’s when it hit me. What had seemed like a good idea at first had now triggered a full-blown panic. The one person I needed here, to help me get through this was Julian. Our separation at this point in time made things impossibly painful. How could I ever look at him keeping this trip a secret?

The nurse noticed my teary eyes. “You know you don’t have to make this decision today? You’re not that far along, so you still have about 4 weeks, if not more, to take the pill. And then there are additional options beyond that.” She took a seat on the stool in front of me. Unlike most doctors I’d met in the private hospital system, I realized that the nurses at Planned Parenthood seemed less in a rush. If they needed to take the time to listen, they would.

“I am sorry, I thought this was going to be easier. But I have to go through with this today because it’s just going to get harder.”

She looked at me intently, and I could tell she was thinking whether to turn me away. I certainly didn’t seem like someone who was sure. “Okay, I’ll go get the pills,” she nodded.

Next, she left me alone in the room for what felt like an eternity, and each passing minute only deepened my doubts. Was my baby going to die here? In this cold, sterile room under harsh fluorescent lights?

I knew many women probably came here seeking a sense of peace and their right to make decisions about their own bodiesI respected. A storm of fury churned inside me at the thought of Roe v. Wade being overturned. It felt like such a violation, like a piece of my autonomy had been ripped away. The women working at Planned Parenthood were heroes, changing one life at a time. But for me, the situation was more complex. I was still engaged to the love of my life. Julian was capable of supporting a family, and I knew our child would never have to experience hardship.

Lucie, are you okay?Sophie texted. She was the only friend who knew where I was.

I welcomed the message because I felt so alone. I didn’t have anyone in my family with whom I could share my struggle.

Not really. Making this decision is harder than I’d thought.

Do you think you just need more time?

Maybe, Sophie. I feel guilty.Guilty about not making this decision with Julian.But he needs time to get better. And I am nowhere near ready to be a mom and do it in a way that puts a child at risk of health issues.

Her response arrived almost instantly.Love, maybe you’re underestimating him. Julian is a strong person, though he’s had his shortcomings. The fact, though, that he’s been in rehab this long tells me he’s serious about change. And it doesn’t sound like what you’re doing is working for you.

As I finished reading Sophie’s heartfelt message, a knock sounded, signaling the RN’s return. She gave me an empathetic look and set three bottles of medication on the silver platter in front of me.

“Still good to proceed?” She shot me a glance, almost amused as if she already knew the outcome of the appointment.

“Yes,” I gulped.

“You’ll take the first two to prevent cramping and nausea,” she explained, taking a seat in front of me. Then, she pulled another box from the bag she had brought along.

“And this is mifepristone, it will block any progesterone, stopping the pregnancy from growing. Once you take this, you need to go through with the whole regimen.”

Sweat accumulated in my palms. Yes, this felt like an execution. I had lived with this tiny human inside me for weeks, even talking to them. Now, I was condemning them to an eternity of darkness. It felt like whatever soul was living inside me was there for a reason. I felt selfish and disgusting.

The nurse approached me with the pill and noticed my pale face.

“Honey, you still have time to think things through. We don’t want anybody to have regrets.” Her words, meant to comfort, only deepened the turmoil inside me.

The floodgates had opened, and I couldn’t stop the rush of emotions that overwhelmed me, suffocating me in my own tears. Guilt, confusion, and sorrow swelled within me, leaving me frozen in a moment of utter paralysis. Would I regret this? The answer suddenly came into focus. With soft acknowledgment from the RN, I slowly walked out of the facility, my baby still growing inside me. Whether I was ready to admit it or not, a sense of relief began to course through my veins. I longed for the dream of Julian and me becoming parents, and it had only taken me this failed appointment to discover it.

Ididn’t quite know how I got through the following work week. Every day felt like a blur, a haze of exhaustion and unresolved emotions that I could barely keep from spilling into the rest of my life. But just because my personal life was in turmoil didn’t mean that my career could afford to be at a standstill. I had to keep pushing forward, even if every step felt like it was on autopilot. Then Amanda made her return to the office.

Her presence seemed to shift the air, a ripple that made everyone tense up and try just a little bit harder to appear perfect. The usual chatter grew quieter, the casual conversations more guarded. We all knew the unspoken truth: Amanda was back, and that meant we were all suddenly under a microscope, scrutinizing each other’s every move, making sure nothing went wrong. Everyone was on edge, myself included, trying to put ona façade of confidence and competence, when inside, I felt like I was crumbling apart.

Amanda made quite the resurgence. Wearing a sleek black Prada suit, she looked nothing short of majestic. The fabric hugged her frame with effortless elegance, and her presence commanded attention in every direction. She looked like a femme fatale who could belong on a runway—immaculate, poised, and untouchable. It was as if she’d stepped out of another world, one where everything was perfectly in place, and I couldn’t help but feel a pang of insecurity at the sight of her, standing there like she had never left. I scurried after her like a mouse trailing behind a puma. Recognizing that making money with a business was harder than it seemed, I feared falling short of my goal.

Amanda asked me to close the door of her office, how I knew this conversation was about to get personal. As the door clicked shut behind me, her Bengali cat, Harper, padded over to me, weaving between my legs with a soft purr. I bent down to scratch behind Harper’s ears, grounding myself for a moment before I raised my head at Amanda, straightening my shoulders.

Subsequently, she positioned herself behind her desk. Then gazed at me with an intensity that almost scared me.”I am content with what you and Kali did with the app,” she opened our conversation.

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