Mom finally stepped back from Heath and scooted over on the couch to make room for him at the end. Then, she turned to me, wiping her face with the back of her hands. Heath leaned forward, grabbed some tissues and handed them to her. She wiped her eyes. Without looking at him, she said, “Heath, I’m sorry I was so angry with you at Christmas. This must have been impossible for you.”

Heath put a hand on Mom’s back and didn’t say anything. He looked like he might start crying, too. I pressed the heels of my hands to my eyes as if to dam my own tears.

“Do you want to talk about what you are going to do?” Mom asked.

I was too chicken to uncover my eyes. After minutes of silence, I muttered, “I know what I want to do.” I took a deep breath and then dropped my hands, sitting up. I looked at Adam. He was as still as a statue, as impassive and unreadable as he’d been in the doctor’s office today. “But it means not getting the chemo…”

Mom grabbed my hand and pulled it into her lap, squeezing it tight. “Mia, you need the chemo.”

I let out a shaky breath and shook my head. I couldn’t say it. I couldn’t tell her that her daughter was choosing to forgo therapy. From the corner of my eye, I could see Adam stand up and put his back to the room while he stood stiffly, staring out the window. I studied his tense shoulders.

“Mom, what if you’d chosen not to have me? I can’t do this…”

Mom’s jaw dropped. “My circumstances were completely different. I wasn’t fighting for my life, Mia. You can’t compare yourself to me!”

“I might never be able to have a baby, after the chemo—”

“Is that worth giving up your life for? A full life? You’re twenty-two years old—a baby yourself!”

I opened my mouth to reply but she interrupted me, gripping my shoulder firmly as if hanging on for dear life. “You have everything ahead of you—you’re going to go to medical school. You’re going to be a doctor. You’re going to save lives. But right now you have one life that is the most important to save—yours.”

I fought to catch a breath. My chest felt like it was compressed under tons of steel. This was a nightmare. They all wanted the same thing. No one—not one—could see my side of the issue. That there was life—a future child—growing inside me. A child who deserved a chance to live.

Then another voice spoke up—another whisper inside my brain—didn’t I deserve the best chance to live, too?

Before the diagnosis, before that call from the doctor’s office, I’d been on top of the world. I was waiting for responses back from medical schools—had been accepted to my dream school—and I had an amazing man who loved me—whom I loved. That ache of loss diffused into my chest again. It had been as much a part of my daily life for the past few months as the endless blood tests and harsh medications I’d been forced to put in my body. And what loomed ahead was worse still.

“Is it really so bad that I believe in my child’s right to live?” I said in a tiny voice.

Mom looked at me, frozen. Then, she touched my cheek. “No, honey, it’s not bad at all. But—I need to beg you to remember my child’s right to live—to finish her life. Don’t sacrifice my baby, I beg of you.”

I suddenly felt so exhausted that I would collapse from the weight of everyone’s eyes on me. Everyone except Adam watched me as if waiting for some pronouncement, some decision.

I put my hands to my temples, rubbing them. “I need to think. I can’t make a decision like this right now. Please. Can you understand?”

My mom looked at me, her eyes so sad that it broke my heart. She actually bit her lip to keep it from quivering. But she nodded.

“Okay,” she said. “You’ve still got a little time? Please—please don’t shut us out again, okay? That’s all I ask. All I beg. Let us love you.”

Let us love you. Was that what I had been doing? Pushing them away, refusing to allow them to feel these feelings? I turned and looked at Adam, who was watching me again with veiled dark eyes. We held each other’s gaze across the room and my insides felt heavy, tight. I could hardly breathe. I didn’t want to think about this. Didn’t want to do this. I wanted to lie back and wait for things to happen to me. I had no desire to ponder these difficult choices. My life was starting to feel like an epic failure with more certain fail along the way before I could pick things up, start again, if I even had the will left to do it.

I declared myself exhausted and in need of sleep. I hadn’t slept very well in almost a week. Since finding out about the pregnancy and the big explosive confrontation with Adam. The day he’d found out about the cancer. All of it.