Page 49 of Falling in Love with Two

“Leah, it’s no joke.” She hands me the pregnancy test that shows two bright blue lines.

I take the test from her and look at it. It’s as if I’m holding some kind of foreign object in my hand.

“There’s no way that I’m pregnant,” I say. “I have an IUD, and I always use condoms.”

“Neither one of those things are foolproof, dear.”

I still am not quite sure that I’m comprehending anything that she’s saying, but something in my brain must click because I immediately start crying.

“Oh, honey!” Marcy says, coming over to give me an awkward, but comforting, hug.

She doesn’t let me go while I let out sob after sob. It isn’t until my body has calmed down some that she sits back down in the stool.

“You didn’t have any idea you may be pregnant? No signs or symptoms? Have you been nauseated? Or maybe more tired than usual?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. It wasn’t anything I thought was drastic enough to suspect I was pregnant.”

“Are you okay?” She asks.

“I have no idea.”

“Well, the first thing we are going to do is get the IUD out of you. Can’t have that in while you’re pregnant.”

Why? It clearly didn’t matter before now. A baby moved into my uterus that was already occupied by something else.

She continues. “Then, I want to sit down and go over all of your options to make sure that you’re informed for the best decision. And before you leave, we will get you set up with some prenatal vitamins.”

The next hour is spent digging the IUD out of my body before Marcy tells me the options I have moving forward. She then tells me that I will have to come back tomorrow to pick up my prenatal vitamins from the pharmacy because they are closing in twenty minutes.

Great. I get to come back here again.

Honestly, I only half-listen to everything she says. My brain takes it all in, but I’m not sure how much of it I will remember once I leave this room. I feel like I’m in some kind of fucked up dream, and I pray to God that any moment, I will wake up and not be pregnant.

Please, God, let me wake up.

fifteen

Don’t be a Smart Ass

Dylan

“Will you at least let me help you down the stairs?” I ask my sister who is waddling as fast as she can.

“Dylan, I’m fine! I can walk down some stairs,” she barks.

“Liz, you’re pregnant. What if you fall?”

“You sound like Jack.”

“That’s because we both care about you.” I walk behind her with my arms outstretched in case I need to grab her unexpectedly.

“Dylan, I have been walking unattended for over thirty years now. I think I know how.”

When we hit the bottom of the stairs, her purse slides off her shoulders and falls to the floor. I watch an utter look of defeat cross her face as she looks down at it.

Holding onto the banister, she tries to bend over far enough to get it, but her big pregnant belly makes it impossible. The next thirty seconds are spent trying every angle she can think of.

Finally, she throws her hands on her hips in defeat and sighs. “Well, Mr. Helpful, do you think you could give me a hand?”

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