Chapter 9
Fiona
Positive. Again.
I had peed on three home pregnancy tests, and they had all come back with the same result. Which meant it wasn’t a mistake like I had prayed for after the first one had come back positive and I had shot to the convenience store to buy another handful of tests.
I had three more tests I could take, but there was no point. I was pregnant, and I couldn’t deny it. I could pee on the sticks all day. It wouldn’t change the results.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
I had been throwing up since Friday. The weekend had been miserable, and I’d spent it in bed taking the time to recover and rebuild my strength, sure I would be ready to go back to the office on Monday. I was married to my job and terrified I would have to take time off. I hated taking time off. I became so bored and started thinking about things like my break up. I had only had to ride it out. Stomach bugs, food poisoning, they all lasted about forty-eight hours, and that was it.
I had gone to the office on Monday as I had told myself I would, but I had thrown up before going in and again halfway through the morning when Jamie had made me a cup of vanilla tea. The smell, which I usually loved, had pushed me over the edge.
With no other explanation for why I felt so rotten, I had started counting days since I’d had my last period, and the number hadn’t made sense to me. But I had told myself I couldn’t be pregnant. I was on birth control. I had only fucked the Viking once. Okay, twice, but it was all in the same night. There was no way I could have been pregnant.
I had Googled my symptoms to be sure but Google was all for being pregnant.
Just the thought of it was enough to make me cry. I was in a bad place in my life, unsure of who I was and what I wanted. I wasn’t okay yet after Randy had dumped me. I had a career I was serious about, and my life wasn’t set up for a child. Not to mention the lack of a man who was willing to be a father figure.
By Wednesday the vomiting seemed to be a regular thing, so I stopped trying to convince myself that being pregnant was impossible and I bought a test.
And now, here I was, freaking out that the one thing that was worse than being dumped had happened to me.
Pregnant.
I put the pregnancy tests in the plastic bag they had come in and tucked them into the bottom of my handbag so no one would find them in the work trash. I had taken the tests at work because I hadn’t been able to wait until I’d gotten home after I’d bought them.
I regretted it now. I wasn’t going to be able to focus on work. Instead, I dialed the number for my gynecologist and booked an emergency appointment. If I wasn’t going to be able to focus on work, I might as well take time off and handle this. Maybe there was a simple solution. Maybe it was a chemical pregnancy. That happened, right? How many women who wanted kids complained about the false hope that came with chemical pregnancies?
And here I was, not trying to fall pregnant at all, and I got three big fat positives.
After I booked the appointment, I left my office and drove to the doctor’s office.
Doctor Maria Sanchez had been my gynecologist for a long time, and I trusted her. She was professional and caring, and she told it to me straight; just what I needed right now.
After I explained what had happened, she took me to the examination room where I lay down on the bed. Doctor Sanchez squirted jelly on my stomach and pressed the probe against my skin. I squeezed my eyes shut and prayed she would tell me something I needed to hear.
“Fiona,” Doctor Sanchez said after a while. “You’re pregnant. There’s no doubt about it. Do you want to see?”
I shook my head. I didn’t want to see. But I turned my head to the monitor anyway. Gray images moved on the screen as Doctor Sanchez moved around.
“That’s your baby,” she said, focusing on a little blob on the screen. “You’re about three weeks along.”
I shook my head. “This can’t be happening.” I breathed out slowly.
Doctor Sanchez looked sympathetic. “Clean up and come to the office. Let’s talk,” she said. She left me to take care of my business, waiting for me in her office. When I was ready, I sat down in front of her and took another deep breath, letting it out slowly.
“I’m guessing from your reaction you didn’t plan this,” she said.
I shook my head and started crying. “Randy broke up with me a few months ago. I had a one-night stand. This wasn’t supposed to happen. I’m on the pill and everything.”
Doctor Sanchez handed me a tissue, and I dabbed at my eyes and blew my nose. It felt like everything was falling apart. Since Randy had dumped me, my whole life had spiraled out of control. First the change of not having him, the mental battle to fight what he had said to me. Then trying to do things that were so far out of my comfort zone I was still trying to adapt. And now this. A baby.
“Let’s work it out,” she said gently. “Did you miss a pill on any of the days this month?”
I shook my head. I was very religious in taking my pills. Being a career woman, I hadn’t ever wanted to fall pregnant by accident.
“What about alcohol – did you throw up soon after taking your pill at any point?”
I shook my head again.
“And medication? Did you take any antibiotics lately?”
I nodded. “I had strep three weeks ago. I took an antibiotics course to get rid of it. I was going on a trip. The trip where this one-night stand happened.”
Doctor Sanchez nodded. “Antibiotics can counter your pill. How long was the course?”
“Four days.”
“So, it’s like you didn’t take your pills for at least four days.”
I sighed. That made a lot of sense but God, what a mess.
“What now?” I asked.
“Do you have contact with the father?”
I shook my head. “I barely knew his name. I do know where to find him, but I don’t know how to do this.”
“There are options,” Doctor Sanchez said. “You can keep the baby or consider adoption or abortion.”
I cringed. “That’s so much to think about right now.”
“It is,” Doctor Sanchez agreed. “But if you want my personal opinion, I would suggest you contact him. If anything, it helps to make a decision together.”
I nodded. “Thank you, doctor,” I said.
Doctor Sanchez nodded. “Good luck, Fiona.”
I was going to need it.
When I sat in the car outside the doctor’s office, I tried to figure out what to do. My head spun, and I was feeling sick again. My stomach was tight with nerves. What the hell was I going to do? How was I supposed to tell Laird? Hi, remember me? We fucked one night. Guess what? I’m pregnant with your child. Shit. I had no idea what I was going to do.
And I had no one to ask. I wasn’t ready to tell Jamie and there was no way I could talk to my parents about it. It was bad enough that I had stopped talking to them while I was with Randy. How would I break it to them that I was pregnant? With a baby that wasn’t Randy’s?
I headed back to the office. I had to take care of a few more things before I could head home. I wished I could go home and crawl under the covers. Instead, I drove to the office and searched for Jamie until I found her in the break room. She stood at the coffee station, blowing on a cup of steaming coffee when I came in. She was the only person I could turn to with this. Even though I wasn’t ready for it. I didn’t think I would ever be ready to face it and Jamie had helped me through the worst, before.
“What’s wrong?” she asked when I walked in. She could see it on my face. I asked her to come to my office and told her what had happened. She listened quietly, giving me big eyes until I finished.
“Oh, my God, Fiona,” she said when I was done. “This is crazy.”
I nodded. “Pretty shitty, right? I don’t know what to do. What would you do?”
“Honestly?” Jamie asked without thinking about it, “I would tell him. Even if it is only for legal reasons. He deserves to know and to be part of whatever decision you make.”
I nodded. Dr. Sanchez had said the same thing. I sighed. The trip should have been an adventure. The one-night stand had been me proving to myself that I could be fun. Now it had turned into a nightmare. Everything was upside down. I had no idea what to do, and if this was what came from trying to be spontaneous, I was never going to do it again.
Of course, this was what would happen to me when I tried to be exciting. I had stepped out of my comfort zone, and instead of hitting the ground running, I had tripped and fallen on my face.