Dr. Foss has been my doctor for as long as I can remember. She delivered Caroline and has such a good bedside manner. She’s in her late forties and beautiful but she has a weird sense of humor.
“I’m good, Dr. Foss. How’ve you been?”
“Good, good. I see you’re here to have your birth control implant removed.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“You do understand that once I remove it, the possibility of getting pregnant increases by, oh say…a lot.”
I chuckle. “Yes, ma’am, I’m well aware. That’s kind of the point.”
She tosses my file on the counter and takes a seat on the short, rolling chair, clasping her hands in her lap. “Ah, I see. Well, the implant expired five months ago. So it’s a good thing you want to get pregnant because um…you are,” she says, patting me on the knee with a wide smile.
I gulp for air.
I’m pretty sure I look like a fish out of water, and right now I guess I am because that is the last thing I expected her to say. “Uh, I didn’t realize it had expired.”
I swallow against the knot in my throat, emotion building in my chest. Linc and I haven’t had sex since the morning he left to go on tour, and I haven’t had any symptoms. I can’t believe I’m pregnant.
My hand moves to my belly. “Are you sure?” I ask, not wanting to get too excited unless she’s one hundred percent positive.
“I need to do an exam and some blood work to be sure but your urine test was positive.”
Tears of joy spring to my eyes. I’m going to have a baby. Linc’s baby.
Our baby.
After Dr. Foss completes her exam and blood work, she confirms that I am approximately ten weeks. She removes the implant, writes me a prescription for prenatal vitamins, and schedules a follow-up visit for four weeks from now.
My face hurts from smiling so much, and I feel like I am walking on air. By the time I pick Caroline up from school, the news has really sunk in. I’m nervous about telling her but I don’t know why. She’s always wanted a little brother or sister. I guess I just don’t want her to feel like it will change anything between us, and I don’t want her to feel left out.
I debate whether to tell Linc over the phone or in person and decide to wait until he comes home next week. It just might kill me, but I want it to be special. I want to see his face when I tell him he’s going to be a father for the first time.
Linc calls later that night but his phone call is short and sweet. He tells me how he can’t wait to see me next week along with a few other naughty things and then he talks to Caroline briefly before letting us go. I try not to be disappointed. There are days when he’s so busy with radio interviews and other obligations that he doesn’t have time to sit and chat, but I was kind of hoping today would be different.
Just a few more days.
Later that night, as I’m lying in bed caressing my belly, I notice for the first time how hard it is and appreciate the delicate life growing inside of me. I can’t believe I haven’t had any symptoms. I was sick as a dog the first three months with Caroline but Dr. Foss did tell me that every pregnancy is different. And life has been chaotic the last few months. I guess I just never really slowed down long enough to realize. I’m actually kind of glad I quit my job at the Blue and White now. I was hesitant at first. I knew I needed to be home. To spend as much time as possible with Caroline. But I didn’t want to have to rely on Linc to take care of us. I wanted to contribute. But arguing with him about it was like trying to reason with an angry bear. It just wasn’t happening. This will give him even more reason to gloat about him being right but I don’t care.
I’m more than happy to let him have his moment.
The following day is a haze of daydreams. Between wanting to tell Linc and wondering if the baby will be a girl or a boy, I can hardly contain my excitement.
In an effort to keep myself busy and resist the temptation of telling him now instead of in person, I find myself in the garage where I’ve stored a bunch of things I need to go through.
There’s a lot in here that I need to get rid of but haven’t really put forth the effort. I think because some of the boxes are filled with Dean’s things. I donated most of his stuff but there were some things I wanted to hang onto for Caroline. Like his wedding ring, his birth certificate, some old coins he’d collected over the years.
Digging through the boxes I find several tiny onesies from when Caroline was born and the precious little smock dress we brought her home in, setting it aside to hold onto for her, too.
I notice, for the first time in a long time, it doesn’t hurt so much to remember. The pain is a reminder of where I’ve been but the love and joy in my heart helps me remember where I am going.
I find two large boxes and begin tossing out things we no longer need. As I get to the bottom of one filled with junk, I find that small wooden box at the bottom. My heart clenches in my chest. It’s the one he used to keep all of his drugs in. I’m about to toss it in the discard pile but open it up to make sure there is nothing in it.
And there’s not.
Minus a small white envelope with my name written across the front in Dean’s handwriting.
My breath freezes in my lungs as tears prick my eyes. Setting the old box aside, I hold the envelope in my hand for what feels like an eternity before I finally summon enough courage to open it.
