red. “Nothing,” I admit.
Okay, I know that sounds bad. Initially, we were using a condom but stopped because of the sensitivity thing. I thought about going on birth control pills, but when I’ve taken them in the past, they always triggered migraines. And seriously, Luke doesn’t ejaculate. So it seemed pointless to have to take a goddamn migraine-inducing pill every day when there was no sperm to be found anywhere. But I guess all it takes is one little tiny sperm.
“So are you really that surprised then?” Dr. Booth asks.
“Well, he’s a quadriplegic,” I say, turning even redder. “So he doesn’t, um, you know…”
Dr. Booth is looking at me like I’ve completely lost my mind.
“Anyway,” she says. “When was your last normal period?”
“Maybe two months ago,” I say. I still can’t believe this is happening. “But I don’t feel sick at all. Are you sure that test is right?”
“There are no false positives,” she assures me.
I bury my face in my hands. This is awful. I think gonorrhea would be way better. I’m pregnant. I’ve got Luke’s baby growing in my uterus. And now I’ve got to figure out what to do about it. If I had gonorrhea, I could just take antibiotics. I really wish I had gonorrhea.
Dr. Booth folds her arms and looks at me. “I don’t do terminations here, but do you want the number for Planned Parenthood?”
“I… I don’t…”
“I assume the father is no longer in the picture,” she says.
I nod, knowing if I wanted Luke to be in the picture, he would be.
“You’re not so young anymore, Eleanor,” Dr. Booth says. “After thirty-five, a woman’s fertility starts to decline sharply. You should think long and hard about your options.”
I sit there, feeling ashamed of myself like I’m an irresponsible teenager. How could I let this happen? And now I have to figure out what I want to do. No matter what, it’s going to be the hardest decision of my life.
_____
The first thing I do when I get out of the doctor’s office is to buy a pregnancy test. I don’t entirely believe the results and I’m hoping maybe they mixed up my urine sample with someone else’s. That happens, doesn’t it?
Once again, I feel like a slutty teenager as I buy the pregnancy test. I feel like the clerk notices the lack of a ring on my finger and knows I got knocked up because of my own stupidity. I’m thirty-four years old—I should know better!
My hands are shaking as I read the instructions on the test in the privacy of my bathroom. It’s pretty simple: you pee on it and one line is not pregnant, two lines is pregnant. It’s supposed to take two minutes for the test to read positive, but within thirty seconds, there are two solid lines on the test strip.
And ditto with the second test. And the second box of tests.
Shit. It’s true.
In the past, I’ve contemplated a situation in which I might not get married. I’ve met a lot of jerks and it occurred to me that I might never meet the right guy. But I never once considered becoming a single mother. I had two parents and I always felt like that’s the way it’s supposed to be.
Yet… while I’m pro-choice in theory, I feel strangely protective of the life growing inside of me. It feels like it’s already a real baby. I can’t have an abortion. I just can’t. I would always regret it. I’d always be thinking how old the baby would have been each year, what developmental milestone they would have reached if I hadn’t ended the pregnancy. I couldn’t live with that.
I know with absolute certainty that this is my baby. This is the baby I’m destined to have.
But I don’t want to do this alone. And I don’t want to do it with Luke, not after the things I’ve found out about him.
In the end, I sit on the toilet seat and sob. I just don’t know what to do. I don’t know how I screwed things up so badly.
Chapter 30
I have to tell Luke eventually. This is his child too, and he deserves to know and decide if he wants to be part of the baby’s life. But getting back together with him is out of the question—and I can’t let him use this as an excuse to say we should give it another shot. We’ll have to figure out some sort of co-parenting arrangement.
If he doesn’t want to be involved,