The real reason I’m here.
The nurse leaves with a polite smile and a clipboard, and I tell myself—over and over—that this is probably nothing. Stress. Hormones. Life being life. Hell, maybe it’s perimenopause. It hits some earlier than others, so who knows?
The doctor, that’s who.
When the door opens again and Dr. Wheeler steps in, I can see it on her face. She knows. She smiles warmly as she pulls up the rolling stool. “Hi, Harper. Thanks for waiting.”
My heart is already racing.
“So,” she says gently, glancing at the chart. “I’ve reviewed your chart and your labs.
“I—” My voice cracks immediately and I clear my throat. “Okay.”
“I can confirm you are indeed pregnant. And given your HCG levels, it looks like you’re several weeks along. I’d say anywhere from ten to twelve already.”
My breath leaves my body in one sharp exhale.
“Oh, my God” I whisper.
Ten to twelve weeks.
I do the math automatically, like my brain is desperate to ground itself in numbers instead of feelings.
Eleven-ish weeks ago was…
Harrison was on the road and then?—
Oh…shit.
That night he came home.
That night I was waiting in his bed.
That night we started making up for lost time.
I press my hand to my stomach.
There’s nothing there yet that I can physically feel, I know, but suddenly it’s like my body is louder than it’s ever been.
“Oh my God,” I breathe, tears spilling before I can stop them. “Oh my God.”
The doctor hands me a tissue without comment, like she’s seen this exact moment a thousand times. “Everything looks healthy,” she assures me. “Given your age and history, we’ll keep a close eye on things, but right now? This is a good pregnancy, Harper.”
Given my age…
Healthy pregnancy…
I laugh weakly through my tears. “But I already have a kid.”
She smiles. “That you do. So, congratulations, it looks like you’ll be having another.”
Another.
I nod, still staring at her as if she’d tell me it’s twins if I blink too long.
Another life.
Another tiny person who will call me Mom.
