They were all positive.
I sat on the bathroom floor for almost an hour.
Not because I was unhappy.
But because I’d spent 10 years teaching myself not to want this too much.
That night, Christopher found me in the living room with the test in my hand.
“Marie?”
They were all positive.
“I’m pregnant.”
He stared at me.
“I know we didn’t plan this,” I said quickly. “I missed my pills. I’m sorry.”
I expected anger. Instead, his face opened into the kind of smile I hadn’t seen from him in years.
“We’re having a baby?”
“You’re not mad?”
“Mad?” He pulled me into his arms. “This is incredible.”
“I missed my pills. I’m sorry.”
I pulled back. “You said a baby would ruin everything.”
“I was wrong.” He touched my stomach with both hands. “This baby is going to change everything.”
For a while, I let myself believe him.
Christopher bought ginger tea and pregnancy books. He asked about names and touched my stomach every morning.
“This baby is going to change everything,” he kept saying.
