Nine Months and Counting: P9

Three Weeks Later…


            I’m so nervous that my hands are shaking, and Michelangelo had to help me walk into Dr. Jones’ examination room. Today is the day I find out if I’m pregnant. I’m terrified that I am. I’m terrified that I’m not.

            “You sure you’re alright?” Michelangelo asks with concern. “You’re starting to worry me.”

            I look up at him quickly and wrap my arms around my stomach. “I’m fine. This whole thing is just completely crazy.” I don’t tell him that I’ve gained some weight over the past couple weeks. Or that my jeans are suddenly too tight.

            He grabs my hand and squeezes it reassuringly. “Everything will be fine. Ashely land Abel won’t be mad if the pregnancy didn’t take. We can always try again in a few weeks.”

            “What if I am pregnant, Michelangelo? What then? We’re only eighteen. I know that’s normal now, but we’re only kids! How are we going to raise one?”

            He laughs. “Brynne, we won’t be raising the baby. Ashely and Abel will. All we’ll have to deal with is the pregnancy and the delivery. The way I see it, they get the short end of the stick. I mean, we only take care of it for nine months. They take care of it for eighteen years.”

            “No, I take care of it for nine months. You don’t do anything,” I retort.

            “I take care of you for nine months, and by extension, the baby,” he replies as Dr. Jones’ walks into the room.

            “I see there’s a lovely couple’s spat going on. Everything okay?” she asks, amused, with one eyebrow raised.

            “Brynne has just been really moody lately,” Michelangelo tells her, giving me an impish grin. “And she quit wearing her skinny jeans all the time.”

            Damn. I didn’t think he’d notice that. And I have not been moody lately. I threw a glare his way, to which he grinned even bigger and winked

            “That’s a good sign,” the doctor replies, casting me a sideways glance as she washes her hands. She grabs a pair of latex gloves and starts putting them on. “How have you been feeling lately, Brynne?”

            “Sick,” I confess. “I feel like I’m getting a minor stomach bug.”

            She nods. “That’s normal for a first time pregnancy.” She wraps a rubber band around my right arm and tilts my arm around, trying to find the best vein. “Now I don’t want you passing out again, because that wouldn’t be good for the baby, so I need you to keep talking, okay?”

            “About what?”

            “Anything you want. To whomever. Just keep your mind occupied so you don’t faint. Can you do that?”

            I take a deep breath as she turns around to grab the needle. I close my eyes, and Michelangelo holds my other hand.

            “Have Ashely and Abel thought of a name yet?” I ask.

            “Not yet. They wanted to wait until they found out if it was a boy or girl. And Abel didn’t want Ashely to start thinking about it until they knew for sure,” Michelangelo replies. “They wanted to stop by and see you, but he’s had a hard time getting away from work.”

            I squeeze his hand tighter as I feel the needle go into my skin. “Why haven’t you had to work much lately?”

            “Because I’m newly engaged. They’re giving me another week’s leave to enjoy my new engagement,” he replies, and I swear I can hear the cocky smile in his voice.       

            “And so you’ll go back to work, and I’ll be taking care of myself for the next nine months. Fantastic,” I respond sarcastically as she slowly pulls the needle from my arm.

            “I’ll only be a phone call away, Brynne. And besides, when I tell them you’re pregnant, they’ll keep me stationed at the armory near the house so I’ll be close if you need anything.”

            “You can open your eyes now, Brynne,” Dr. Jones says. “And you two stay here, I’m going to examine this blood sample. It’ll only take about ten minutes.”


The End

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