Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 100207 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 501(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100207 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 501(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
I shrugged. I didn’t care what they did, as long as they could stop the rolling and cramping of my stomach. He hadn’t mentioned an IV yet, but I was starting to hope for one. Maybe they could give me anti-nausea medicine.
I peed in the little cup they gave me and let them take a blood sample, then Alex and I settled in to wait. The TV in my little room was broken, so I closed my eyes and drifted off while Alex played on his phone and absentmindedly ran his fingers through my hair.
About an hour later, I opened my eyes as Dr. Landry came back into the room.
“Blood tests were all normal,” he said, smiling at me. “And it looks like you did test positive for pregnancy.”
“No.” I chuckled a little, my voice hoarse. “No, I have an IUD. You must have mixed it up or something.”
“I can assure you, we didn’t,” Dr. Landry said kindly.
“I have an IUD,” I said again, my words slower and overenunciated.
Dr. Landry’s eyes met mine, and he gave me an understanding smile that I wanted to knock off his face. “I assure you, the test was positive. I’d like to do an ultrasound to see how far along you are and check on that IUD.”
“Why would we need to check on it?” I asked. “It’s clearly not doing its job.”
“Sarai,” Alex said, his hand covering mine. “It’s okay.”
“Are you kidding?” I spun my head to look at him and immediately regretted the movement. Alex had the little kidney-shaped tray under my chin as soon as I started dry heaving again.
“I’ll be back in a few minutes with that ultrasound machine,” Dr. Landry said, stepping back out of the room.
“This isn’t possible,” I mumbled, breathing heavy as I tried to calm my nausea with shallow breaths through my nose. “I have an IUD.”
“Let’s just get the ultrasound,” Alex said, his voice subdued. “Then we’ll see where we’re at.”
“It’s not going to show a baby,” I said, scoffing. “They screwed up somehow. I have an IUD.”
I felt like if I said the words enough, told enough people that I had an IUD protecting me from this exact scenario, then I would be in the clear. I wanted children, but I didn’t want them yet. I barely had time to eat dinner; I really didn’t have time for a child. I didn’t graduate until June, and after all the hard work I’d put in, I had to graduate in June.
The doctor came in, rolling the ultrasound machine, and squirted some goo on my belly. Then he was shifting the little wand against my skin, pressing and twisting it until a very faint heartbeat came through the system. I stared uncomprehendingly at the screen.
“You are pregnant,” the doctor said, typing a few things into the machine. “Let me get some measurements, and then we’ll check on that IUD.”
Fuck the IUD. Who the hell cared where that useless thing was?
“Look at that,” Alex said, whispering in my ear. “That’s our baby.”
I didn’t respond. I couldn’t.
“I’m going to put you at about seven weeks, four days,” Dr. Landry said. “That would put your due date in mid-July. The eighteenth.”
“After you graduate,” Alex said, squeezing my hand.
“I don’t understand how this happened,” I said dully, staring at that little flicker, flicker, flicker on the screen. “We were careful.”
“If your IUD isn’t where it’s supposed to be, it wouldn’t work correctly,” the doctor said, moving the ultrasound wand around as he stared at the screen. He was patient with my arguments and denial, but there was a thread of exasperation in his voice.
“Sarai,” Alex said, his voice low. There were a million questions in the way he’d said my name, but I wasn’t ready for any of them. I wasn’t ready for this. The pillow made a swishing sound as I dropped my head against it and stared at the ceiling.
“Ah,” the doctor said. “I see the problem. The IUD was displaced. It happens, but not often. We can take it out in a few minutes.” He stood up. “And I’d like to give you some fluids before we send you home.”
“Thanks, Doc,” Alex said.
It was silent in the room as soon as the doctor left. I was numb, barely able to feel the blanket that covered my legs or Alex’s fingers brush over my knuckles. Even my stomach seemed to have stopped churning.
I let the nurse hook me up to an IV without even looking at her, choosing to continue staring at the ceiling instead even though the fluorescent lights made my eyes burn.
“You’re scaring me,” Alex said after the nurse had gone. His voice was soothing, comforting even, but it still grated. “Sarai, this is good news, right? I mean, this was the plan. A little early, but we talked about having kids.”