that I was somehow letting Henry down with my lack of enthusiasm. That was coupled with the knowledge that women every day were struggling to get pregnant, even spending hundreds of thousands of dollars for in vitro fertilization, and here I was, knocked up and not even happy about it.
The guilt I wrapped around me like a blanket was thick. Nobody, least of all Henry, was making me feel this way. It was all self-inflicted, and I needed to find a way to make peace with this thing inside me before I suffocated.
—
On Thursday, we were finally able to get an appointment with an OB-GYN. While getting ready, I stood in front of the mirror in my underwear, contemplating how my body would change. I turned sideways, imagining how my stomach would swell in the coming months. I had to admit, the thought terrified me.
Henry came up behind me and pressed a kiss on the back of my neck. “You’re beautiful, you know that?”
But I didn’t feel beautiful. I felt in shambles.
“Henry, are you sure about this?” Because I sure as hell wasn’t.
“I couldn’t be more sure,” he said, resting his chin on the crook of my neck. He wrapped his arms around me and faced us toward the mirror. “Do you remember the last girlfriend I had in Oklahoma?”
“Shelly? Kelly? I can’t remember.”
“Melanie,” he said with a grin. “We went out for a few months.”
“What about her?” I asked, feeling a prickle of jealousy. I hadn’t really liked her—she’d been too possessive—and had been glad when Henry ended the relationship.
“Did I ever tell you why we broke up?”
“You just told Jason and me it didn’t work out.”
His eyes held mine in the mirror. “Because she wanted something serious. She wanted to get married, settle down, have kids. And for a guy in his twenties, that’s the last thing he wants to hear from a girl he’s not that sure about.” He straightened but kept me tucked into his warm body. “I tried to picture a life with her but I couldn’t see her in my future. When I think of the mother of my children, her face is not the one that comes to mind.”
His hands slid up to my jaw and lifted the hair away from my face, tilting my face slightly upward. “It was always you, Elsie,” he said against my ear. “The person who walked down the aisle, the woman bearing our child, the face I’ll wake up to every morning for the rest of my life.”
I closed my eyes, leaning into the solidity of his body. “I wish I had even half of your conviction,” I said. “I’m sure about you too. Just not about a baby.”
I could feel him nodding behind me, knew that he wanted more than anything for me to share in his excitement. But I couldn’t give him something I didn’t have.
—
Later, Henry and I sat in the waiting room of the clinic, tense but putting on a happy face for others. I glanced around the room and seeing the contentment radiating from these pregnant women made me wonder again what the hell was wrong with me.
“Hey, ease up there,” Henry whispered. “Or they’ll have to X-ray my hand for broken bones.”
I looked down and realized I’d been gripping his hand for the better part of an hour. “Sorry,” I said, feeling the blood rushing back to my fingers when I let go.
“Els, it’ll be fine.”
My eyes flew across his face. “What if . . .” But I couldn’t finish the sentence, couldn’t breathe aloud the thought of what we’d do if I really didn’t want a baby. I was afraid to mention the two
A
’s—
adoption
and
abortion
—still unsure of what I really wanted.
Henry gave a slight shake of the head. “Don’t say anything right now. Let’s just talk to the doctor and make our decision then.”
A nurse drew my blood in the back then sent me out to the waiting room again. Several minutes passed before my name was finally called and we went into the exam room together. I changed out of my clothes and into the gown in front of Henry, and I pretended not to see how
The guilt I wrapped around me like a blanket was thick. Nobody, least of all Henry, was making me feel this way. It was all self-inflicted, and I needed to find a way to make peace with this thing inside me before I suffocated.
—
On Thursday, we were finally able to get an appointment with an OB-GYN. While getting ready, I stood in front of the mirror in my underwear, contemplating how my body would change. I turned sideways, imagining how my stomach would swell in the coming months. I had to admit, the thought terrified me.
Henry came up behind me and pressed a kiss on the back of my neck. “You’re beautiful, you know that?”
But I didn’t feel beautiful. I felt in shambles.
“Henry, are you sure about this?” Because I sure as hell wasn’t.
“I couldn’t be more sure,” he said, resting his chin on the crook of my neck. He wrapped his arms around me and faced us toward the mirror. “Do you remember the last girlfriend I had in Oklahoma?”
“Shelly? Kelly? I can’t remember.”
“Melanie,” he said with a grin. “We went out for a few months.”
“What about her?” I asked, feeling a prickle of jealousy. I hadn’t really liked her—she’d been too possessive—and had been glad when Henry ended the relationship.
“Did I ever tell you why we broke up?”
“You just told Jason and me it didn’t work out.”
His eyes held mine in the mirror. “Because she wanted something serious. She wanted to get married, settle down, have kids. And for a guy in his twenties, that’s the last thing he wants to hear from a girl he’s not that sure about.” He straightened but kept me tucked into his warm body. “I tried to picture a life with her but I couldn’t see her in my future. When I think of the mother of my children, her face is not the one that comes to mind.”
His hands slid up to my jaw and lifted the hair away from my face, tilting my face slightly upward. “It was always you, Elsie,” he said against my ear. “The person who walked down the aisle, the woman bearing our child, the face I’ll wake up to every morning for the rest of my life.”
I closed my eyes, leaning into the solidity of his body. “I wish I had even half of your conviction,” I said. “I’m sure about you too. Just not about a baby.”
I could feel him nodding behind me, knew that he wanted more than anything for me to share in his excitement. But I couldn’t give him something I didn’t have.
—
Later, Henry and I sat in the waiting room of the clinic, tense but putting on a happy face for others. I glanced around the room and seeing the contentment radiating from these pregnant women made me wonder again what the hell was wrong with me.
“Hey, ease up there,” Henry whispered. “Or they’ll have to X-ray my hand for broken bones.”
I looked down and realized I’d been gripping his hand for the better part of an hour. “Sorry,” I said, feeling the blood rushing back to my fingers when I let go.
“Els, it’ll be fine.”
My eyes flew across his face. “What if . . .” But I couldn’t finish the sentence, couldn’t breathe aloud the thought of what we’d do if I really didn’t want a baby. I was afraid to mention the two
A
’s—
adoption
and
abortion
—still unsure of what I really wanted.
Henry gave a slight shake of the head. “Don’t say anything right now. Let’s just talk to the doctor and make our decision then.”
A nurse drew my blood in the back then sent me out to the waiting room again. Several minutes passed before my name was finally called and we went into the exam room together. I changed out of my clothes and into the gown in front of Henry, and I pretended not to see how
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