After All - Romancing Manhattan

“So I wasn’t your first choice to go to the doctor with you?”

I stare at him. Christopher smiles and tightens the arm around me in a hug. “Kidding. I’m here for the comic relief, after all.”

“Why is my man being a colossal jerk?”

“Didn’t you tell me his wife died of cancer?”

“Yeah, about five years ago.”

“And now you’re worried that you could have breast cancer.”

I blink, then lean into Christopher when the cabbie takes a left turn a little too fast.

“You’re right. He must be scared.”

“There you go.”

I’m feeling sick to my stomach by the time we pull up to the clinic, and I chalk it up to car sickness and nerves.

I’m so nervous.

But Christopher takes my hand as we walk inside, and I check in with the receptionist. I pretend to read a People magazine as we wait, but my name is finally called.

“I’ll stay here,” Chris says, but I shake my head.

“Like hell you will. You’re with me.”

He rolls his eyes but follows me. The nurse leads me to a scale, where I learn I’ve gained ten pounds since last year.

Lovely. This day just gets better and better.

Once we’re in a room, she takes all my vitals, asks questions, and then leaves Christopher and me alone to wait for the doctor.

“She tried to take my arm off with the blood pressure cuff.” I rub my upper arm with a scowl before stripping out of my shirt and bra to put the gown on, open side to the front, per the nurse’s instructions. “I hate that part.”

“It was high, too.” Christopher frowns at the gown. “That green’s not really your color.”

“Well, yeah. I’m a little nervous here.” I tie the front and sit next to him again.

“No need, sugar. It’s all going to be just fine. I’m always right about these things.”

“You’re full of shit.” But he’s made me laugh, loosening my stomach muscles just a bit. No matter what, I can depend on Christopher to be by my side, to hold my hand and make me smile.

He’s the best friend ever.

“Good afternoon.” Dr. Gonzales bustles into the room. She’s a petite woman, with shiny black hair, brown eyes, and thick black glasses.

“Hello,” I reply.

“So you think you’ve found a lump?”

“Yes. I don’t remember it being there before.”

“Let’s have a look.” She smiles kindly and gestures for me to hop up on the table. “Lie back for me. I’m going to feel your breasts.”

She lifts my right arm over my head, exposes that breast and starts to poke around. I wince a bit at the tenderness.

“Nothing here,” she says, covering me back up before moving to the left breast. She goes through the same motions, and when she gets to the underside, pauses.

“That’s it,” I whisper, watching her face. Her eyes narrow. “What is it?”

“Are you tender?”

“Yeah.” I wince again when she moves her fingers up over my nipple. “Pretty tender.”

“Are you about to start your period?”

I pause, thinking. “Actually, yes. I should be. It’s been a while.”

“Hmm.” She finishes up, covers me, and backs away. “You can sit up.”

“Is it a tumor?”

“No,” she replies immediately, and I am instantly filled with relief. “Our breasts change as we age, and even monthly during our cycle. You have fibrous breasts. I want to run a urine sample real quick while you’re here.”

She passes me a plastic cup and gives me directions around the corner and promises to meet me back in the room soon.

Once I’ve done my business and returned to the room, Christopher and I wait only about five minutes before Dr. Gonzales returns.

“It’s what I suspected,” she says with a smile. “Breasts can also change, develop little benign cysts, when you’re pregnant.”

I frown. “What does that have to do with me?”

“Oh, honey.” Christopher pats my knee and the doctor smiles again.

“You’re pregnant. You’re going to be parents.”

“Whoa, don’t look at me.” Chris throws his hands up in surrender. “I didn’t do this. I don’t touch girls like that.” He turns to me. “Her gaydar is broken.”

“Well, regardless of who the father is, you’re definitely pregnant.” She’s making notes in her computer. “We’ll need to discuss when your last period was, so we can ballpark your due date.”

“But my boyfriend had a vasectomy years ago. We don’t use other birth control because it’s a monogamous relationship.”

She nods and purses her lips. “I’ve seen cases, and read of others, where the vasectomy didn’t take.”

“Didn’t take?” I stare at her, dumbfounded. “The whole job of the vasectomy is to take.”

“It’s rare, but it happens. Before you leave, we’ll schedule you for your first prenatal visit. In the meantime, no alcohol or smoking. If you need a prescription medication, it has to be approved by me.”

I nod, trying to listen to her, but my head is buzzing.

I’m pregnant.

I’m going to have a baby.

Holy shit.