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“Oh no!” Stella exclaims and jumps up from her chair like a psycho. She rushes to wrap her arms around me, shove my face into her big boobs, and pat the top of my hair. “Tell me my baby is going to be okay!”
“Mom! Chill out.” I disentangle myself from Mommy Dearest and meet Dr. Lieber’s eyes again. “What are you talking about? I’m assuming I just have some kind of random stomach virus, right?”
“Well, Carly, you don’t actually have a stomach virus. You’re pregnant.”
Time comes to a fucking halt.
I stare at Dr. Lieber and blink exactly one hundred times.
“I’m sorry…what?”
“Besides doing a CBC, liver, and renal panel, we also did a pregnancy test. And it came back positive.”
“I-I’m pregnant?” I question, and I swear my jaw is sitting in my lap. “But I’m on birth control.”
“Sometimes, the pill can fail. That’s why we always encourage patients to use a backup contraceptive method.”
I almost say, “But we always use condoms,” but then it hits me.
The night of our engagement when I convinced my type A, careful, always-likes-everything-planned fiancé to have celebratory “We’re getting married!” sex without a condom.
Uh oh.
I honestly have no idea what is happening around me. I’m pretty sure Stella is dancing or singing or something, but I feel like I’m having an out-of-body experience.
I mean, it makes sense.
The nausea, the puking, the fatigue? Of course, it makes sense.
But that doesn’t mean I was ready for this kind of news.
I’m stunned silent.
My mom, though, on the other hand, is throwing her own little party in the corner of the exam room. “I can’t believe my daughter and stepson are giving me a grandbaby! Oh my goodness! This just might be one of the greatest moments of my life!”
I don’t miss Dr. Lieber’s confusion, but she quickly blinks it away and instructs me to lie back on the table. “I want to do an ultrasound to see how far along you are, okay?”
Like a robot, I just nod and follow her instructions.
“Now, since I think you’re still less than ten weeks, this has to be a vaginal ultrasound,” she tells me as she slips on gloves and grabs some kind of wand thingy. “You’ll just feel a little pressure.”
I definitely feel some pressure, but then it eases, and when I look over at the screen, my heart starts pounding wildly inside my chest.
“Is that… Is that my baby?” I ask, staring at the little blip on the monitor.
“Yep.” Dr. Lieber smiles at me. “That’s your baby.”
“Aw, Carly!” My mom grabs my hand, and her eyes shine with emotion. “That’s my grandbaby!”
“Looks like you’re about two months along,” the doctor updates. “And everything looks perfect. Do you want to hear the heartbeat?”
I nod, and a few seconds later, a rapid whoosh whoosh whoosh fills the silence of the exam room.
Ryan’s and my baby’s heartbeat.
Tears fill my eyes, and my chest swells with a million different emotions—happiness, pure joy, excitement.
Holy moly. We’re going to have a baby.
Then, the realization hits me—I’m going to have to tell Ryan we’re having a baby.
My wonderful, amazing, incredible man who thrives on plans and schedules.
Sure, we’ve talked about having kids, but it’s always been something we would do in the distant future. After our wedding. After we feel like we’re settled and ready.
And here I thought going to the doctor would help prevent him from stressing out too much over me having a simple stomach bug.
Oh boy—or girl—I really hope he doesn’t get mad I told him not using a condom a couple months ago was no big deal…
Because this is more than a simple change of plans.
The news I’m about to deliver just might rock his whole world.
I hardly remember the subway ride and short walk back to our apartment.
I know my mom chattered the entire freaking time, but I was too lost in my thoughts, too lost in my own head, thinking about how in the hell I’m going to tell Ryan I’m the big P.
By the time we’re in the elevator, heading up the twenty floors to our place, I remind myself that it’s only a little after two and Ryan won’t be home for another few hours.
I have time to sit with this news and figure out the best way to tell him.
Or, you know, find a way to hide my pregnancy until I’m actually showing, and then he can just kind of figure it out on his own…
I’m kidding, obviously. I think.
No. I’m kidding. Really.
Even though I’d planned on doing a conference call with Brody about future marketing plans for Carly Can Ski, I’m going to cancel that fucker and spend the rest of the day figuring out a really good way to tell Ryan we’re going to have a baby.
Yes. That’s exactly what I’m going to do.
Renewed with the sense of having some time before I have to face the pregnancy music, I walk into our apartment feeling good. A little relieved, even.
