The ambulance arrived a few minutes later and took my vitals. Even though I was feeling much better by that point, we all agreed—and by that, I mean Harper guilted me into it—going to the hospital to get checked out was for the best.
The ride to the hospital was fun. Harper rode with, asking a billion questions to the poor female EMT who was just doing her job to make sure I was stabilized for transport, while Latham brought his truck and met us here. Before I was whisked away to be stuck with five needles, I made them both promise to just keep this to ourselves. There was no reason to get everyone all worked up—specifically, Samuel—when we didn’t know anything. I could tell by the looks on their faces they didn’t approve, but neither argued with me.
So here I am, waiting for the results of my lab work to come back, while my best friend works on wearing down a pacing path on the old tile flooring. I’m in one of those standard hospital gowns, my clothes balled up on the chair by the door, and wishing I had my phone. It’s probably still at the boutique, since I don’t recall Harper grabbing it after she snatched my purse out of her office.
“What’s taking so long?” Harper asks, pacing back and forth.
I shrug. “Dunno. Maybe they all went on a coffee break,” I mutter, picking at the tape holding down my IV.
“That’s not funny,” she says, her hands on her hips. “I wish you’d let me call—”
“Stop right there. I’ve already told you we’re not calling anyone. I’m sure there’s nothing wrong here, and the moment they let me go, I’ll head back to my place and everything will be fine.”
She stops her pacing and gazes at me. “Your place? You mean Samuel’s house? Aren’t you living there permanently now?”
“Oh, uh,” I stutter, trying to think of something to say. When nothing comes to me and her stare becomes more intense, I finally say, “I’m moving back to my apartment. It’s ready to go.” I throw on a wide smile, so she can tell how happy I am about the news.
Harper comes over and stands next to my bed. “But…what about living with Samuel?”
Again, I start picking at the horrible tape stuck to my skin. “It was only temporary. I live at my apartment.” My heart starts to ache just thinking about moving back into the place I’ve lived for the last few years.
Alone.
My bestie drops onto the plastic chair sitting beside the bed. “But…why? I mean, you two are married,” she whispers so no one else can hear. After all, our marriage is one big ugly secret, right?
I shrug and feel my eyes well up. I open my mouth to reply, to tell her it doesn’t always work out the way you plan, but we’re interrupted by the attending physician. “Good news, Freedom,” he says as he comes into the room. “Most of your lab work looks good.”
“Great,” I reply, ready to get up out of this bed.
“Wait, what do you mean most of her lab work?” Harper says, stepping up and taking my hand.
The doctor smiles. “Well, you’re a little dehydrated, and your blood sugar was very low. I’m certain that’s why you passed out. We see that a lot in the early stages of pregnancy.”
Well, I didn’t eat much today because—
Wait.
What?
I glance at Harper, whose eyes are locked on me, her mouth hanging to her chest. Okay, so my hearing is going bad already. Swell. I could have sworn he said—
“Pregnant?” Harper asks.
The doctor smiles. “Yes. I’m assuming by the shocked look on your faces, this wasn’t something you already knew.”
Slowly, I shake my head.
“Can you tell me again what you ate today?” he asks, pulling out the chart with the test results.
“Uhh…well, I didn’t really eat anything,” I say softly, wishing the bed would swallow me whole.
“Are you throwing up? Nauseated?”
“I’ve been nauseous a few times in the last week or so,” I recall, my eyes dropping down to my still-flat stomach.
“Well, I’m going to prescribe prenatal vitamins for you. If you can get that filled tonight still, that would be beneficial. Start taking them tomorrow morning. I’m also going to suggest you make an appointment with an obstetrician. Let them know of your ER visit today. I’m sure they’ll want to schedule you just to check everything over. If you don’t feel like eating much, make sure you’re still drinking plenty of fluids. But at the least, try to eat small meals and snacks. Crackers, breads, things like that. Do you have any questions?”
I shake my head, my eyes still glued to my midsection.
“Well, thank you, Doctor,” Harper says, reaching her hand out for him to shake.
“I’ll get your discharge papers in order and have the nurse bring them in.”
“Thank you,” I whisper before he leaves the room.
The silence in the room is deafening. I can no longer hear the beeping of the machine, no longer hear the busy commotion in the emergency room vestibule. All I can hear is the rapid beat of my heart. The swoosh of blood through my ears. Pregnant? How is that possible? I mean, I know exactly how it’s possible, but…pregnant?
“Freedom?” Harper whispers beside me. She takes me hand, careful not to jar the IV sticking out of my hand. When I look at her face, I see a mixture of shock and excitement, and I’m certain it rivals my own. “Are you okay?”
Am I okay? That’s the million-dollar question. I just found out I passed out because my blood sugar was crazy low, I was dehydrated, and apparently, pregnant to boot. Am I okay?
I realize quickly the answer is yes. Yes, I’m more than okay. I’m ecstatic and scared and worried. Worried I’ll be an absent parent, like my own. Worried I’ll make too many mistakes and mess up an innocent life for
