On Fridays, Brooke and I meet for espresso, dance class and spring rolls (usually in that order). I was still on the mend from a recent foot surgery and my entire body just felt off.
"Maybe you're pregnant." She asked like a statement.
"Maybe you're pregnant" I retorted like a freshman.
Brooke had a knack for stupid theories. Sure, I recently started having sex with a new man. But, I also take pills and claim a pretty broken reproductive system as the result of 8 period-free years of marathon and triathlon training.
Still, she got me thinking. I checked my Period Tracker app and was 10-days late. Shit. I bought a pregnancy test.
The next morning, I had to produce a 2-day live training event for health coaches which included a 7 am workout and all-day clinics. I blinked my eyes open at 5:30 and was greeted by an early text from my newly divorced college room mate letting me know she was going on her first date that night!
Big day for both of us. I let her know I just peed on a stick and would check back in. . . f. . . no need to check back, it's a tiny, pink, "yes."
My mind went blank and stayed that way for the next few hours as I handled what I had to. During a free minute, I called Planned Parenthood to learn if there was another test I could take. Turns out, false positives are really rare and I was pregnant.
I made it to lunch and had to tell somebody. Not "S". Not yet. "S" is the father and we had been seeing each other for a whopping 6 weeks. Plus, I knew he was deep in "boys weekend" with his brother. This could wait. It had to wait until I knew what I wanted.
Trevor (who I live with) texted me to see if I wanted to talk about what he saw in the bathroom. Relieved to have a confidant, I cried in a corner, wrote a list, meditated on it and decided that I was having a baby.