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“Hi Tessa. How are you doing?”
“I’m good and you?”
“Good, good,” she says, pulling up my chart on the computer. She begins to ask me a series of questions and I rattle off the answers, not really giving them much thought until the doctor falls silent. “It looks like you’re over a month behind on your birth control shot, so we need to get you caught up today.”
“Sounds good. I didn’t realize I was that far behind. I’ve been so busy with work and life.”
“Happens to all of us,” she replies, smiling kindly at me. “You rescheduled your initial appointment and there was a second reschedule and now this one. No big deal.”
She’s being far nicer than the receptionist, but I guess she’s not the one who deals with all those missed appointments and cancellations. She just reaps the benefits of having a free moment to catch up on things, while the office staff try to get people to keep their appointments.
“You’re not due for a Pap but I’ll do a breast exam and a quick internal and we’ll have you out of here in no time.”
“Sounds good to me.” But again, I’m hit with a weird silence when I put my feet in the stirrups, and she begins the internal.
“Tessa?” she says, a question in her voice. “Is there any way you could be pregnant?” As soon as she asks it my heart stops beating and then within a second it begins to race.
What kind of fucking question is that? The kind that makes you feel like you’re going to puke because shouldn’t she know if I’m pregnant or not? That’s kind of her job, especially since she was just poking around down there. But shouldn’t I also know?
I don’t even know how to answer her. A few months ago, I would’ve said there was not a chance I was pregnant, but now, I have no idea. The horrible thing is, the moment she asked me, I knew that I couldn’t say no. I still can’t say no. Dylan and I have been having sex on the regular and we stopped using condoms. I don’t even want to tell her all this because it feels reckless and irresponsible.
The room is silent, she’s waiting for me to answer and all I can hear is the sound of my heart thumping loud and hard in my ears.
She tells me to sit up and I do, the tears pooling in my eyes before I can even answer her. I know the answer. The answer is yes. Yes, I could be pregnant.
I nod, the words not wanting to make their way out of my mouth, not wanting to admit that they’re true. Dylan and I are not in a place to discuss this again. It didn’t go so well the first time around, but now, it’s not a hypothetical situation, it’s the real fucking thing.
He’s going to think I did this on purpose. That I’ve tried to trap him with a baby, something he isn’t prepared for.
“So, Tessa,” the doctor says, resting a comforting hand on my knee. “I think you are pregnant, but in order to confirm it, we’ll do a blood test. I can see this is not the news you were hoping for, but please know you have multiple options.”
Again, I nod, shocked into silence, trying to rationalize with myself how this happened. I mean, I know how it happened, I guess I just assumed it would never happen to me. But it’s my own damn fault. I continually rescheduled my appointment, not even thinking about how it pushed my birth control out of its comfort zone. I was well beyond it working, and yet I still had sex with Dylan.
Now he’s definitely going to think I did this on purpose when I try to explain any of this to him. Oh my god, I’m going to have to talk to him about this when I can’t even rationalize this with myself.
Everything that happens after the doctor told me I could be pregnant is a blur, and it’s even more of a blur when she comes in to tell me that I am one hundred percent pregnant.
I walk out of the office in a haze. My life suddenly feels like it’s spinning out of control when literally just an hour ago, things felt like they were finally falling into place. There’s no way Dylan wants this. There’s no way he’s going to show any excitement or even fake it. His words from the night we spent at Tommy and Penny’s house scream loud in my head.
Fuck, dude. I’m not getting married. That would mean responsibility and babies and shit.
That’s exactly what this means. Responsibilities.
I have no idea how the hell I’m going to tell him. As soon as I close the car door, I burst out crying. My thoughts are going in a million different directions, making me cry even harder. I’m supposed to be designing cottages for Lauren that won’t be done till next year. Next year I’m going to have a baby. I don’t even have maternity leave, for fuck’s sake. I work for myself. If I don’t work, I don’t get paid and if I don’t get paid then I can’t pay my bills. Oh my god, the baby and I are going to be homeless. I’ll have to move back in with my parents.
Maybe it’s just better if I don’t tell Dylan at all. Keep the whole damn thing a secret. I can string him along until I start to show and then I can just disappear. He’ll never have to know he has a kid, and his life can go on just like it always has. There’s no way he’s going to want to do this with me. It’s too soon.
All of this sounds irrational and probably selfish, and maybe even a little mean, but how in the hell am I supposed to spring this on him?
Hey Dylan, let’s watch a movie and order a pizza. By the way, we’re going to have a baby. Pass the popcorn.
Something tells me he’s going to be out the door before he can even pass me the popcorn.
I bury my head in my hands and cry. Letting it all out now, because I still have to meet with Lauren, and I need to get my shit together. I can’t walk in there looking like a mess or she’ll know something is up. And just like Dylan, she’ll be searching for someone new to take over the jobs I’ve started there.
Or maybe for once in my life, things will go the way I hope they do.
I’m an idiot.
