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The next day dawned bright and early, the morning sunlight streaming through the bedroom window, chasing away the darkness. I woke up to the melody of bird songs and the familiar buzz of my phone on the bedside table. Blinking sleep out of my eyes, I picked it up and found a sweet text from Tony.
Good morning, sunshine. Did you dream about me?
A smile tugged at my lips as I read his message, a warmth spreading in my chest. Tony had a knack for making me feel special, even with something as simple as a text message. I quickly typed out a response.
I dreamt about chocolate chip cookies.
Almost instantly, a reply came back, filled with laughing emojis.
The chocolate chip cookies obviously symbolized me. They’re delicious, and you can’t get enough of them.
I couldn’t help but laugh.
Our playful banter continued, each message bringing a smile wider than the last to my face. It was a beautiful morning, peaceful and filled with sweet laughter. But as our conversation went on, the joy began to give way to anticipation. The memory of the pregnancy test popped up unbidden. The playfulness began to dwindle, replaced by a gnawing anxiety.
As if to add to my unease, a wave of nausea washed over me. I rushed to the bathroom, my body physically acting out my internal turmoil.
Rinsing my mouth, I stared at my reflection in the mirror. My face was pale, my eyes wide with the weight of my situation. I wondered what the best way to tell Tony would be. We were both medical professionals; we should have known better. We should have been more careful.
I was on birth control, but it was a low dose due to my lack of sexual activity before Tony. The irony wasn't lost on me. I had been careful not to have any sexual encounters, yet when I finally did, it resulted in a baby.
The question of how to tell him remained. I had no idea what his reaction would be.
When I returned to my bedroom, the familiar buzz of my phone greeted me. It was another text from Tony.
Want to spend the evening together?His words lit up the screen and sent another jolt of anxiety through me.
I needed time to process, time to think, time to decide on how to deliver the news to him. And I couldn't do that with him around. As much as I wanted to be with him, to lose myself in his presence, I knew I had to get myself together first.
With a deep breath, I texted him back.I can’t tonight. I have some work stuff to sort out with the new position. Tomorrow doesn't look good either. Sorry.
I hit send, bracing myself for his response. I didn't want him to worry, didn't want to arouse his suspicion. But it was only a matter of time before he'd realize that something was amiss. I felt a little guilty, throwing such lame excuses his way as if he were some clingy Hinge date I wanted to rid myself of.
As if on cue, his reply came through, and I exhaled a sigh of relief when I read it.
No worries, Jude. Take your time. I'll be here when you're ready.
His understanding and patience soothed my frayed nerves, if only a little. As the seconds ticked away, however, I was filled with a growing sense of dread. Tony was being patient—for now. But how would he react when I told him the truth?
Tony was an enigma. I couldn't predict his reaction. Would he be shocked, angry, disappointed? Or would he be happy, excited to become a father? The uncertainty was enough to drive me mad.
With a sigh, I forced the maddening thoughts away. They weren’t helping. All they were doing was causing my stomach to churn, intensifying the queasiness. I decided to focus on what needed to be done next, like scheduling an appointment with my OB/GYN.
Mustering every ounce of calm I could manage, I dialed the number and waited for the receptionist to pick up. My fingers drummed a nervous beat on the table, my heart echoing a similar rhythm in my chest. The call connected, and I forced out the words, asking for the earliest available appointment.
"Hi, this is Jude Langdon," I said, struggling to keep my voice steady. "I need to schedule an appointment as soon as possible. I just had a positive pregnancy test result."
I ended the call, securing an appointment for the next day. That task completed, I sat back, allowing the weight of the situation to wash over me. Everything was becoming real, really fast. The reality of my pregnancy was setting in, and with it, the certainty that my life was about to change in ways I could never have anticipated. I only hoped Tony would be able to handle it too.
* * *
I found myself in the sterile surroundings of the doctor's office, seated on the edge of an examination table covered in a crinkly paper sheet. Everything around me felt oddly surreal; the clinical white walls, the stark overhead lighting, the soft hum of the air conditioner providing a strangely comforting background noise.
A nurse bustled around me, her demeanor professional yet kind. She chatted as she worked, asking routine questions about my last period, my symptoms, any family history of high-risk pregnancies, and my use of birth control. With each question, I found myself providing answers with a detached sense of disbelief.
She handed me a small plastic cup and directed me to the restroom, the action feeling so strangely ordinary and yet monumental all at once. I completed the task, my hands shaking slightly as I did so. When I handed the cup back to her, she gave me a sympathetic smile, as if she understood a tornado was spinning inside me.
I sat in the silence of the room waiting for the test results, the seconds ticking away like hours. My mind was a jumble of thoughts, anxieties, and questions, all overshadowed by a single, momentous fact—I was pregnant. I was about to become a mother. The thought was both exhilarating and terrifying.
