purchased the thick volume when Jessie was born, paranoid that her daughter might be sick one day and she wouldn’t know what to do for her, though in the end it had rarely been used. She flipped to the flow charts that helped diagnose based on symptoms and checked each one until she found the one she wanted. She moved her finger along the page, following the path from box to box, until she reached the end.
Possible Diagnoses:
Anemia
Underactive Thyroid
Pregnancy
She shut the book.
She laughed out loud for a brief moment, then moved more quickly than she had in a week to her Daytimer. She flipped the pages back until she saw the red circle, then wracked her brain for a memory of the last time she and Shaun had been intimate. She’d been on the tour for three months… but made a stop at home in July. She looked again at the date and did the math.
“Oh my goodness.”
It wasn’t possible, was it? She was forty-seven years old, for heaven’s sake. Underactive thyroid made much more sense – but would that hit as fast as this had? She wondered the same about anemia. Whereas pregnancy symptoms
She thought back to her pregnancies, looking for similarities between how she felt then and now. The exhaustion, the lethargy, even the blue mood – she’d experienced all of them. Granted, she hadn’t had a fever. But what if I really did have the flu first?
It was possible. She could hardly believe it, but it was definitely possible.
She crawled back under the covers, seeking a safe place to let her emotions unravel. A baby, at this age, with their only other child already halfway through college-talk about completely un-ideal. They’d never know each other, Jessie and the baby. Jessie would be more like an aunt than a sister. And at her age, Savannah would certainly be considered high-risk, which would mean frequent appointments, ultrasounds, and other medical interventions she was not a fan of. Not to mention the toll it would take on her ministry. The timing was, in all ways, absolutely horrible.
She pulled the sheets to her chin and curled on her side, eyes squeezed shut. What was the point of even thinking about the effects of a baby on her life? If she really was pregnant, then the likelihood of her carrying it to term was small. She couldn’t bear the thought of going through another miscarriage – the dreams dashed, the hopeless labor, the raging emotions with no baby to hold on to and anchor her. Please, God, not again.
She stayed in bed, overwhelmed at the possibility, until the sun shifted and shone on her face. She sat up and forced herself from bed. She knew it was ridiculous to let her imagination run like that when it was possible to confirm – or rule out – the pregnancy with a home test. She just had to go buy one.
She hadn’t left the house in a week. The idea of going out was enough to distract her. She pulled a baseball cap over her head and tied on her gym shoes, focusing her thoughts on where she would go to buy a test and not on what it might tell her.
She drove to the pharmacy six blocks from their house, then turned around and left. It would not be a good idea to risk being seen by someone who knew her. The last thing she wanted was for anyone to know this might be happening. She got on the freeway and went south, then took the last exit before leaving Colorado Springs and stopped at the closest gas station to get directions to a pharmacy. She still might be seen, but it was much less likely.
It felt good to be out. She spotted a coffee shop and nearly stopped, but then remembered caffeine wasn’t good for the baby.
The callousness of her thoughts surprised her. That wasn’t like her-even if it were true. And what if this is the one that sticks? God could work a miracle, right?
She pulled into the pharmacy parking lot and shut off the car, dwelling on that last thought. He
She entered the store, eyes peeled for familiar faces, and sought out the right aisle. She was stunned when she found it. It had been fifteen years since the last time she’d been pregnant, and the home pregnancy test industry had exploded since then. With so many choices – and having taxed her mental energy too much already just by driving – she couldn’t discern which test was the best. She grabbed the most expensive box, reasoning that it must be the most accurate, then grabbed one more just to be safe.
She went through the check out, feeling oddly embarrassed with her purchase, then went back to the car with her hat pulled low. Once safe inside, she ripped open a box to read the instructions. Her heart sank when she read that it was better to wait until first thing in the morning. How would she ever make it that long?
She drove home, frustrated and utterly spent from all the activity. After stashing the boxes in her bathroom drawer, she crawled back into bed to try to sleep. But for the first time all week, sleep eluded her. She couldn’t stop thinking about the chance to hold a newborn again.
THE SLAM OF THE DOOR awoke her. She opened one eye to check the clock and sighed; she had just fallen asleep. She pulled the sheet up to her chin and shut her eyes again, but a knock at the door brought them back open. “Come in.”
Jessie appeared in the doorway, looking sheepish. “I woke you up; I’m sorry.”
“No, baby, that’s okay.” Savannah pushed herself upright and winced at the thudding that commenced in her head. “Did you need something?”
“I’m packing for school but can’t find my bedding. I went to the cleaners, thinking it was still there from when we brought it in back in May, but they didn’t have it. Do you know where it is?”
“Bedding, bedding…” Savannah swung her legs off the edge of the bed and stood. “I think I got it when I picked up some of my speaking suits. Let me check the closet.” Jessie followed her in, and Savannah glanced around to make sure there were no traces of her pregnancy test packaging around. The thought brought another to mind: Jessie was in her first real relationship, and while Adam was an upstanding young man, and Jessie herself had a smart head on her shoulders, Savannah knew there was no difference in hormones between them and any other twenty-year-olds.
And with that, Savannah realized in a panic she’d never talked to her daughter about sex. The public school had beaten her to it, and since Jessie hadn’t dated in junior high or high school, Savannah hadn’t seen the point in bringing up such an awkward subject. But now, with Jessie and Adam so serious, and heaven only knew what kind of supervision was going on at the college, Savannah knew she should probably bring it up.
She’d been lucky so far-Jessie had grown up just fine even though Savannah hadn’t been able to spend all the time with her during those years that she’d planned. But who knew what disasters might be avoided if she did the motherly thing and brought up the topic now, uncomfortable as it may be? It had been a long time since she and Jessie had engaged in a good heart-to-heart, and these opportunities came less and less frequently; she should grab this one while she still could.
“So, Jessie,” Savannah began, trying to sound casual as she examined the contents of her closet, “you and Adam are pretty serious, I know… May I ask what the two of you are doing to keep your relationship pure?”
Jessie’s eyes went wide before she sputtered, “What -
“No, no, no – I’m asking what you’re doing to make sure you
“No way, Mom. I am not having this conversation.” Jessie’s face was red. “I totally can’t believe you just went there.”
“Honey, listen, I was dating your father at your age, and I vividly remember wanting-”
“So help me, if you talk to me about having sex with Dad-”
“Good gracious, no!” Savannah was flustered. “I wasn’t going to give any details. I’m just saying I remember the temptation and how difficult it was to handle sometimes, and I wanted to make sure you had a plan in place to handle that temptation when it came your way.”
Jessie’s hands covered her face. “Gross, gross, gross. I cannot believe we’re having this conversation.” Her hands slid down her cheeks. “We’re not gonna have sex, Mom, okay?”
