“You are about a month into the pregnancy, and you’ve been experiencing morning sickness.”
“That can’t be right. It’s not just in the morning. And this seems way worse than morning sickness.”
“It’s a misconception that nausea will only come in the morning. For some women, it lasts the entire pregnancy, and for some, it’s a lot more severe. You got a bit unlucky, I guess. But we have added something to your drip to settle the nausea, and you should be feeling much better in an hour or so.”
“No, I think…this can’t be right.”
“You don’t want to be pregnant?” he asks, frowning.
“I…it’s…” I have no idea what to say. This can’t be real. Is it really happening?
“It’s okay, young lady. Take your time to process it. Do you want us to call the father for you? Is it Kristopher? The nurses told me you asked for him when you came in. The gentleman who brought you here tells us he’s already contacted him and he’s on the way.”
He’s staring at me, waiting for an answer.
“No. No. Please don’t say anything to him. I want to be the one to tell him.”
“Of course.” He smiles. “Give the meds some time to work, and once you’re hydrated, you’re going to feel much, much better. Press the button to call the nurses if you need anything at all.”
“Thank you,” I mutter in complete shock.
The doctor stands for a moment, still watching me. “Thank you,” I say with more strength. He nods, smiles, andturns to leave just as Kristopher hurries into the room. For a second, every cell in my body screams. The doctor nods at Kristopher. “She’s okay,” he says. “She needed some hydration, and she’s on meds for the nausea.”
Kristopher shakes his hand. “Thank you, Doctor. What was wrong?”
The doctor looks over his shoulder at me. My eyes flare wide with panic.
“She hasn’t eaten in a few days, and she was weak,” he explains. “Once the drip has finished, she can go home, but she must be on bed rest for a few days.”
Kristopher’s jaw clenches. “Thank you.”
He nods in gratitude and steps around the doctor. My heart races as he walks to my bed.
He says nothing and pulls me into his arms.
I want to tell him. Ihaveto tell him.
But right now, the relief of being safely against him is the only thing that I can focus on.
Kristopher sits with me while the drip finishes. I’m an emotional wreck, fighting tears, trying to figure out what to say to him. Mostly, I just sit in silence, leaning against his side. Sensing my tension, he just holds me. Always so understanding. Always so patient with me.
The drip empties. It doesn’t take long, and I do start feeling so much better towards the end. I’m relieved when the nurses come to remove the heart monitor and the drip and sign me out so I can leave.
The drive home is quiet. My head is busy. Spinning. Confused. Bewildered. Every now and then, he glances at me, and I look away, unable to meet his eyes.
His hand is reassuringly on my thigh. Even in the silence, he is my rock. How will he take the news, though? Will he be angry? Annoyed?
I press my lips together and watch the city lights flash past my window.
Kristopher won’t let me walk from the car when we arrive home. He insists on carrying me to his bedroom. He already called ahead and had the chef make me a simple pasta, and now he’s sitting on the side of the bed watching me take small bites.
“Did the medication help?” he asks, his hand resting on my thigh, heat soaking into me, the only comfort I need.
I nod as I chew. Before he can ask me another question, I take another bite.
You have to tell him, Georgie.
Soon.
