Chapter One: Unexpected News

Read the opening pages of Unexpectedly Perfect.

I had to muster every ounce of self-control to avoid vomiting on the small blue plate of cheese-and-avocado sandwich in front of me. At twelve weeks pregnant with my second child, I was deep in the throes of all the unpleasant symptoms of my first trimester—most particularly, at this moment, intense nausea. 

Standing in the kitchen, admittedly still in my pajamas at noon, I held my breath to avoid smelling anything adverse as I quickly cut Peter’s lunch into bite-sized pieces. It was hard to believe that even the simple act of making my son his lunch felt like a huge accomplishment that day. Motherhood is humbling like that. 

Since becoming pregnant again a few months before, I’d been trying to navigate my role as a full-time caretaker for my very active two-year-old amidst near-constant nausea, fatigue, heartburn, and hormonal mood swings. Most days, I felt as if I was just surviving. But despite my current misery, I knew it would all be worth it eventually. I was so grateful to be pregnant again. I’d been dreaming of growing our family and couldn’t wait to give my son a sibling. 

Setting Peter’s lunch on the table in front of him, I exhaled in relief that I had made it through the task without vomiting. As he began to eat, my cell phone rang. I didn't recognize the caller’s phone number, but I reluctantly decided to answer. 

On the other end of the line was a woman with a stiff, robotic-sounding voice. Without giving her name, she quickly introduced herself as an employee of Demeter Labs and informed me she was calling with the results of my recent genetic testing. 

With those few words, I immediately knew that this stranger had information that would have a significant influence on my future. 

I had indifferently declined genetic testing with my first pregnancy, as it seemed like an unnecessary reason to endure a blood draw, but the previous week, when the lab tech told me that taking a DNA test would tell me the sex of my baby many weeks before the standard twenty-week ultrasound, I’d quickly agreed, with no further thought. 

My heart started to race. I hadn’t expected the results to come back so quickly. I hadn’t expected to receive them over the phone. 

“Can you give me just a moment?” I asked the woman. With nervous excitement bubbling throughout my body, I turned to my son. “Mommy will be back in just a minute,” I told Peter as I eagerly headed upstairs to take the call. 

I almost tripped as I sprang up our old, creaky wooden stairs, suddenly filled with more energy than I’d had all day. Thoughts raced through my head: Would Peter have a brother or a sister? What was our growing family going to look like? Who was this baby I’d been praying for? 

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