The phone rings. “Hiiiiii! How are you?” It’s my little sister, who at 28 is not so little but to me she always will be.
“Nauseous,” I say. It’s 9 am and I’m still in bed.
“You’re pregnant!” she half-jokes.
“No I’m not, impossible.” Although I think about the one time two months ago when Todd and I let it slide. But that was one time.
“Go get a test right now,” she says, “Mom thinks you’re pregnant.”
“Why would she say that?”
“You spoke to Dad this weekend and told him you weren’t feeling well! Go out and get a test and call me back.” She hangs up the phone. My little sister was born wise, confident and whip smart.
20 minutes later.
I have just peed onto the EPT pregnancy stick. I actually peed onto my hand, the toilet seat and the bathroom floor but enough probably splashed onto the white ominous rod. The blue line becomes visible and soon a pale, pale blue line appears crossing the darker line creating a plus sign. Plus for pregnant. But it’s too faint to be sure. I walk into my living room which doubles as my office and I present my stick to my assistant who’s been working quietly away since 8 am.
“OK, is this positive?”
“Good morning!” she greets me with her usual youthful cheer. Looking closely she says, “Looks positive to me.” She then proceeds to read the directions which I failed to bother with: “Even a light blue line is positive.”
Feeling queasy and light-headed I excuse myself and head to the bathroom. I take a long hard look in the mirror. I notice the fine lines etched in the corners of my eyes. I see the raven roots peaking from my otherwise blonde hair. I am too busy to have a baby and I am not ready.
One time without protection, I think to myself. Perhaps this is meant to be. And then it dawns on me, maybe this is Immaculate Conception. Maybe this is God’s child. But then I think maybe the Virgin Mary did it once with a sheepherder that she fell in love with, but was ashamed and said that she was still a virgin. Maybe once is enough.