I leave the gynecologist’s office in a daze, her words still ringing in my ears. I feel like I’m both floating on air and being chained to the ground by some invisible force. I head straight to the pharmacy at the end of the corner. Do I need to get a confirmation of a confirmation? How accurate is the pregnancy test at the doctor’s office, anyway?

Just then a new wave of nausea comes over me. I bend over a trashcan and dry heave for a few minutes. A few people slow down when walking past me, but no one stops. This is New York at its best. I actually don’t mind. If I weren’t so sick, I’d be mortified. But right now, nothing else comes to mind except for what is the fastest way that I can get home so that I can lie down. After all of this throwing up, I finally come to the realization that what makes the nausea that much worse is actually being physically upright.

The fastest way home is to hail a cab or grab a Lyft. Then I’d be there in five minutes. But I can’t go home directly. I got a prescription for an anti-nausea pill from the doctor and I need to fill it. I need something to make all of this pain go away. It’s giving me a splitting headache. And I need a clear head to think.

I barely manage to drag myself a block over to the nearest Rite Aid. Walking past the makeup aisle, I glance at myself in the mirror near the lipsticks. Holy fuck. What a sight! My hair is sticking out in all directions - the messy bun is so messy that it’s way beyond being cool. It’s not even in the same ballpark as cool. My skin is splotchy and pale. My lips are chapped and peeling and I have big black bags under my eyes.

It’s the middle of the day, so there’s no wait at the pharmacy counter. I tell the woman in a white coat my name and that my doctor called in a prescription for Diclegis. She takes my insurance card and walks to the back. A few moments later, she comes back.

“Actually, your insurance doesn’t cover this.”

“What?”

She repeats herself.

“But my doctor said this was the best. This will make me feel better.”

“The way that your insurance will cover this is if you first try Zofran. This is a new medication so you need special approval.”

“Okay,” I say. I have no idea how to deal with this situation.

“The problem is that your doctor didn’t call in a prescription for Zofran. Just Diclegis.”

“Shit,” I mumble.

“You could give them a call and ask them to prescribe Zofran for you first. Then you can try it and if it doesn’t work, you can come in for Diclegis. Or you can pay for Diclegis out of pocket.”

I inhale deeply. My nausea is coming back with a vengeance.

“Please step aside, ma’am,” she says. “May I help you?”

There’s a line forming behind me. I can’t make this decision here right now. Shit. I dial the doctor’s number and wait on the line. In the meantime, I look up both medications online. Diclegis definitely seems safer. It’s just an antihistamine, an over the counter sleeping pill, and vitamin B6 with a slow release formulation to make sure that it stays in your system for longer. Zofran, on the other hand, well, there are people noting that it might be responsible for some birth defects.

“How much is the Diclegis if I just buy it now?” I ask, after I wait in line for my turn.

“You want to buy out of pocket?”

“Yes. I mean, maybe. I mean, I have a prescription right?”

The woman nods and shakes her head. Then she rings up my prescription.

“$750.”

“What?”

She repeats the preposterous number.

“But both of its components are available over the counter. Why the hell is it so expensive?”

“This is America, ma’am,” the woman says in the most deadpan voice ever.

“Okay, fine,” I say. “I’ll take it.”

“Are you sure?”

I shrug. “No one is answering at the doctor’s office and I feel like I’m going to die. So, I’ll figure this out when I’m feeling better.”

I hand her my credit card and she rings me up. Signing the bottom, I suddenly realize how lucky I am that money isn’t a problem. These stupid pills are $750, and that’s a ton of money by anyone’s standards. And yet, here I am, willing to pay for it out of pocket just so I can go home and not throw up so much.

On the way out, I grab a bottle of water, a bag of potato chips, which look mildly appetizing, some sour candy, and a bottle each of Unisom (the over the counter antihistamine) and B6. Maybe I can see if taking the combination of these two meds will help me on their own and I won’t need Diclegis at all. But I’ll have it as a backup. As I wait to be checked out the second time, I feel sick again and throw up a little into a plastic bag that I grab from the counter at the very last minute.

* * *

I didn’t bother waiting to get home to take the B6 pills and the Unisom. I read the instructions for combining the two on my phone while waiting in line and hope to God that it works by the time I get home. Unfortunately, I’m not so lucky. The nausea just gets worse and worse and three hours later, I’m convinced that my over the counter solution isn’t doing me any good. So, I grab the bag of Diclegis and pop two pills into my mouth. I lie back down in bed, put Friends on Netflix and wait for the room to stop spinning.

I don’t know how many hours pass as I wait, but eventually it does, somewhat. Netflix asks me if I am still wanting to continue my binge a few times at least, and the afternoon sun has long since disappeared into the Hudson River. The next time I have to get out of bed, it’s pitch black outside and I have to turn on the light just to make it to the bathroom. Much to my surprise, however, I don’t feel that dizzy as I walk there. I only feel somewhat queasy, but not enough to throw up.

Hallelujah!

When I climb back into bed, my phone goes off. It’s Aiden. This is not his first time calling me. I’ve been ignoring him. At first, I ignored him because I didn’t want to tell him that I might be pregnant. Now, I don’t want to tell him that I am pregnant. The thing is that I need time. I need to get my head around this thing. I mean, how can I be pregnant? I mean, I know the mechanics of how this happened, but what does it mean now that I am? I need to have time to decide how I feel about this on my own. I don’t want Aiden and his opinion getting in the way.

What if Aiden is really excited about this? I mean, would that make me excited as well? Probably. But is that right? I mean, all in all, I’m not ready to be a mom. I’m far from ready. I still have my own dreams and hopes and desires. But does that mean that only people without dreams and hopes should be parents? Of course not. And yet, I’ve always assumed that the only way that I would become a parent is when I gave up on my other life. None of these thoughts make any sense. I know that. And I need time to figure them out before I see Aiden again. I can’t have him and his opinions muddling this whole thing for me, at least not any more than it already is.

And then, there is that other thought. What if…what if he doesn’t want the baby? What if he is adamant and one-hundred percent certain that a baby is not for him? What then? What if he wants me to get rid of it? No, I can’t have his opinions in my head right now. I need to decide how I feel about this baby first. And only then can I let him know what has happened.

The intercom goes off. I look down at my phone. More texts from Aiden appear, asking me where I am. Could that be him outside? No, please, no. I decide to ignore it. They’ll just have to come over some other time. I’m not taking any visitors right now. But the buzzing continues. Incessantly. After a few minutes, I manage to drag myself out of bed and toward the front door.

“What?”

“Hey, Ellie,” she says. My heart drops. I recognize her voice immediately.