I laugh. “You already sound like an old married couple,” I tease.
She grins. “Good.”
I kiss her on the cheek before she leaves, making her promise to text me when she gets home safely. Of course, Bails lives close by, but just to be safe. As I shut the door, I wince a little at an unfamiliar sensation: my breasts feel heavier than usual, and ache a bit. I’ve noticed it several times in the past week, but the tenderness is especially insistent now.
“Great,” I mutter. The last thing I need is for my breasts to get any bigger. I’m already a full C, and I’m not exactly looking to get into the realm of D or Double D. However, as I pour myself a glass of water, I stop dead, staring sightlessly at the sink.
What if my breasts aren’t just randomly getting bigger? What if…?
Abandoning my glass of water, I dive for my bed and yank open one of the drawers of my nightstand. An unopened box of condoms sits there. I certainly haven’t had any use for them lately, as I only ever go to Rick’s place.
I lick my suddenly dry lips. We use protection, but it’s possible. Our sex is so hot that there were a few times when the heat of the moment overwhelmed us, and Rick always comes so hard inside of me. Plus, I’m not on birth control, but women are only fertile at a certain point in their cycle, and I’ve been tracking it as best I can. When those accidents happened, I wasn’t at peak fertility. Still, maybe I haven’t been tracking it as efficiently as I thought. And, come to think of it, I haven’t had a period for a while.
I start hyperventilating. The ache in my breasts grows, and I cup my belly for a moment. It’s not any bigger than usual, but my mind whirls crazily.
Next to the box of condoms is a similarly unopened box of pregnancy tests. I don’t even know why I have it because it was an impulse purchase from the drugstore. But now, here we are.
I grab the box and go into my private bathroom, locking the door behind me purely out of habit. As I sit on the toilet and pick at the packaging, I realize that my hands are trembling. Steady, Kara, I tell myself in as soothing an inner voice as I can manage. I’ve never taken a pregnancy test before. Oh god. I read the directions as carefully as I can with my heart hammering insistently in my ears. Then, I pull out a test, follow the directions, set the indicator on the sink beside me, and wait.
I stand up. I sit down on the toilet again. I stand back up. I pace the tiny bathroom, gnawing at a hangnail. How long is three minutes? Should I have set a timer? I fiddle with the ends of my hair, tie it back into a ponytail, and then take it down again. Impatience, nervousness, and excitement all bubble within me, threatening to overflow.
Finally, I can’t wait any longer: I seize the test, and squint at the results window.
Two vertical pink lines.
“Oh, my God,” I whisper, my hand flying to my mouth. Shaking, I read the pamphlet that came with the test again, just to be sure.
Two vivid, clear-as-day, unable-to-be-misinterpreted hot pink lines definitely means pregnant.
I collapse onto the toilet, still holding the test, unable to tear my eyes away from it. My heart is pounding so hard that it is threatening to tear right out of my chest. I worry, suddenly, that I’m going to throw up, but the sensation passes. I cradle my head in my hands. My body seems to have been thrown into overdrive, unable to manage all of the emotions swirling within.
“Breathe,” I remind myself out loud, and take a deep breath through my nose, letting it out slowly through my mouth. I immediately feel a little better. What are the emotions I’m feeling, anyway? I settle into a seated position on the cool tile floor, my back against the wall, and close my eyes to better access my inner self.
Excitement. It’s not fear, or shame, or panic that I’m feeling--it is a pure, adrenaline-fueled, joyful excitement. I feel something wet on my cheek and realize that I am crying with happiness, unable to contain myself. I’ve dreamed of motherhood since I was little, when I played mama to all of my dolls and stuffed animals. The timing could certainly be better because I’m not even halfway through college, but that doesn’t matter, not really. All that matters is that I am going to be a mother, and that this baby was made with love.
I stagger to my feet, drop the test, and careen out of the bathroom, hunting for my phone. I have to tell Bailey. I can’t believe we’re pregnant at the same time. Our children will be born mere months apart, just like we’ve always dreamed. My mind is whirling so quickly that it’s difficult to keep up with the thoughts. Where is my phone? What will the baby’s sex be? What will we name them? What will giving birth be like?