DOB: 07/06/1995
Lab Order Date:01/24
Collection Date:01/24, 9:25 AM
Result Status:Final
Provider:Dr. Norelle Bernard, OB/GYN
***Lab Results***
Test: hCG, Quantitative
Result: 6,282 mIU/mL
Flag: H
Reference Range: Non-pregnant: <5 mIU/mL
***Notes***
*Elevated hCG consistent with early pregnancy
Well, I understand the note, at least.
It has to be a mistake, though. I just had a period. I take my pills faithfully. It doesn’t make sense.
My laptop hums quietly, a soundtrack to my confusion. It’s all so sterile and clinical. Numbers on a screen. It means nothing. And it’s wrong.
It has to be wrong.
In a daze, I push my laptop away and slide off the bed. I don’t even know how I get to the bathroom. I’m dissociating like you do sometimes when you drive home from work and don’t remember how you got there.
Now my hand is on the drawer knob. I only know that because I’m looking at it. I feel nothing as I open it and pull out my birth control pills.
I stare for a while. A few minutes at least. I’m even more confused now, because I didn’t skip any. The number is right. The days are right.
I know it’s statistically possible to get pregnant on the pill, but the odds are low, and I’ve been a stickler, because I do not want a fucking baby. Ever.
It doesn’t make sense.
I flip the pack over and stare at the foil, running my fingers over the holes, feeling the punctures. Every time I pushed a little pill through it’s foil skin and popped it into my mouth, I was controlling my own fucking destiny. I was being responsible. Those little holes are monuments to my independence. This can’t be fucking happening to me.
A tear slips out of my eye and crawls down my cheek as I try to figure out where I went wrong. I flip the pack over and over, looking at the front, studying the back. Were some of them from a bad batch? Did they get exposed to an extreme temperature? Were they tampered with?
Wait.
The pack slips from my fingers and hits the cold tile floor with a clang. I don’t even reach to pick them up, I just stare down at them as my Fitbit buzzes with a notification about my heart rate.
It couldn’t be.
He wouldn’t.
Except…the way he’s been acting…he’s been so fucking weird lately. So overly attentive, but shady at the same time.
I thought it had to do with Veronica, but it might even be worse than that.
I sink to the bathroom floor and put a hand over my mouth.
