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Rachel nodded. “Can I hear the heartbeat?”
They were at their friends’ apartment — a sterile, beautiful space with white furniture and a pod in the guest bedroom. Two pods, actually. Mira and Theo were having twins.
Rachel spent three nights in a psychiatric hold, her daughter in a hospital incubator — a different kind of box, but a box nonetheless. Social workers argued about “attachment theory” and “parental fitness.” Mark sat in the corner, silent, his face unreadable.
They argued in the pod center’s waiting room, whispering furiously while other couples scrolled through their own fetal dashboards.
“You’d be putting your baby at unnecessary risk,” Rachel’s own mother had told her over breakfast last week. “I love you, darling, but my generation didn’t have options. You do.”
Rachel nodded. “Can I hear the heartbeat?”
They were at their friends’ apartment — a sterile, beautiful space with white furniture and a pod in the guest bedroom. Two pods, actually. Mira and Theo were having twins. The Pod Generation
Rachel spent three nights in a psychiatric hold, her daughter in a hospital incubator — a different kind of box, but a box nonetheless. Social workers argued about “attachment theory” and “parental fitness.” Mark sat in the corner, silent, his face unreadable. Rachel nodded
They argued in the pod center’s waiting room, whispering furiously while other couples scrolled through their own fetal dashboards. Mira and Theo were having twins
“You’d be putting your baby at unnecessary risk,” Rachel’s own mother had told her over breakfast last week. “I love you, darling, but my generation didn’t have options. You do.”