That Baby Read Online Free PDF

back on, and lay it down on the counter.  
    Now I have to wait for three long minutes.  
    I flush.  
    Wash my hands and set the timer on my phone.  
    Reread the instructions two more times.  

    One pink line = Not pregnant.  
    Two pink lines = Pregnant.
    One dark pink line + One light pink line = Pregnant.  

    I’m not even going to think about looking at it until the three minutes are up.
    I stare at the seconds counting down on my phone’s timer.  
    Two minutes left.  
    Shit.
    I peek.  
    There are two faint pink lines.  
    I look at the instructions again, wondering if they turn pink first but then the second one disappears.  
    But the two lines just seem to be getting darker.  
    Holy shit.  
    I think I might be pregnant.
    I smile then start crying again.  

    The doctor’s office opens at nine, so I start calling at 8:45. I call every minute until finally someone answers at 8:57. I tell them I just moved to town, am best friends with Lori and Danny Diamond —yes, I used his name on purpose—might be pregnant but might not be depending on if these 99% accurate tests are really that accurate, and that I need to be seen today.  
    Like now.
    Preferably, right now.
    This very second.
    She squeezes me in at two o’clock.  
    I hop in the shower to get ready for work, place my hand across my stomach, peek out of the shower to make sure the two pink lines are still there, and wonder if it could be true.
    Could I really be pregnant?

    I lie to Phillip and tell him I have to go to some showroom to look at bathroom fixtures for the new building. Truth is, I’ve had them picked out since before the wedding.  
    In the OB-GYN’s waiting room, I’m surrounded by women with big pregnant bellies and by the time I fill out all the paperwork, pee in another cup, give some blood, and get in to see the doctor, I’ve convinced myself the home pregnancy test must have been faulty. I can’t be pregnant.
    “So I understand the lines turned pink,” the doctor says after introducing himself.  
    “Yes.”  
    “And what was the date of the first day of your last period?”
    “Um, Christmas day. December twenty-fifth.”
    He picks up a little chart and spins it around. “That means you’re due October the first.”
    “ Due? As in I’m pregnant ?”
    He squints his eyes at me. “Yes, home pregnancy tests are quite accurate. You’re definitely pregnant. Five weeks along today.”
    “But, I’m on the pill.”
    “Did you take it regularly?”
    “Yes, but I took antibiotics last month.”
    “Well, there you have it. They can sometimes lessen the pill’s effectiveness.”
    “I’m a few days late, but I had some spotting the other night and I thought it was my period. But then it stopped.”
    “It’s not uncommon to have spotting.”
    “But I didn’t plan on getting pregnant. Shit,” I mutter.
    “You’re not happy about your pregnancy?” he asks.
    “Not only was I on the pill, but I just got married two weeks ago. I drank every single day of our honeymoon. What if I’ve already ruined our baby?” I get tears in my eyes. I don’t want our baby ruined.
    The doctor pats my back. “Being on the pill when you get pregnant does not increase the risk of birth defects. And it’s also not uncommon for women to have alcohol before they realize they are pregnant. Back when my mom was pregnant with me, women would smoke and drink alcohol. I turned out fine.”
    “But now we know better right?” I say. “That can lead to low birth weight babies.”
    “You’ve been doing some reading,” he says with a smile.
    “A little.”
    “So, while it’s hard to tell for sure, you probably conceived around the eighth of January.”
    “Oh my god. That was the night . . .”
    “Did something bad happen?”
    “Yes. No.” I start to cry again. “It started out bad, but then it ended up good. Like it was a really special night. I fell asleep and dreamed of fireworks. Could I have known?”
    “Some women say they