Page 154 of Twins for Three Bad Boys

“How…?” I start, and then stop.

I know how.

That’s not the question.

“How far along?” I manage.

“Based on hormone levels, approximately three weeks.”

My brain immediately replays a montage I did not consent to:

The night.

The shift.

Oh, no!

I press a hand to my stomach as if I might actually feel the physical evidence of the baby she says is in there.

Theres nothing.

I feel exactly the same.

Except I’m not.

I’m suddenly a woman in a beige room holding a folder that contains the sentence, “You are pregnant.

“That explains the nausea. Morning sickness,” the doctor continues cheerfully. “And the dizziness. We’ll schedule an ultrasound in a few weeks.”

Ultrasound.

There will be a screen.

There will be a tiny shape.

My heart does something strange in my chest.

Disbelief.

Panic.

Horror.

And a flicker of something close to wonder.

“Do you feel safe?” she asks gently.

“Yes,” I say immediately.

That part is true.

She hands me prenatal vitamin recommendations and hydration guidelines and leaves me alone.

I stare at the wall.

I’m pregnant.

This is not a drill.