this.
“He’s amazing,” mom chimes in for me, “he treats my Sammy like a princess. She is the lucky one.”
“Okay, mom. He’s just a guy - not a prince,” I add.
The nurse walks in and hands a folder to Dr. Ahrens. She looks it over and beams at me, “it’s true! You’re having a baby!” She embraces me in a warm hug and then hugs my mother, “Ginny, you're going to be a grandma!”
I see a few stray tears roll down my mother’s cheek. I start to cry again. It’s really happening. No doubt about it now.
“So, Sam, judging from when you had your last period, I would guess you’re around eight weeks.”
“Already?” I ask, shocked.
“Yes. According to the math. Are your dates right?”
“I think so.”
“Great. Then you should make an appointment with your obstetrician so they can run some tests, get you on prenatal vitamins, and listen for a heartbeat,” she begins to list, “oh! This is so exciting.”
“Yeah,” I reply, much less enthusiastically than I should.
“I’ll get you started on some vitamins for now anyway. Make sure you listen to your body and rest when you need to. Have that prince take good care of you.”
I force a weak smile. We say our thank you’s and good byes and silently leave the office. I think my mother is in shock - as am I. Right now though, I’m more concerned with what comes next.
If I’m already eight weeks, I’m going to start showing in no time. I’m not going to have a choice much longer. I can’t give up the baby - that’s not an option. I’m old enough to have a child - even if it’s on my own. I can always find a new job if I need it and since I still live at home, my mother can help until I get on my feet. I don’t need Mason. I won’t hold him responsible for anything. I can’t do that to him.
My mother drives me back home. I scroll through my phone and see a few missed texts from Mason asking how I am. He called just a little while ago and left a message. I press ‘play’ and hold the phone to my ear:
‘ Samantha. I’m worried about you. You’re not answering and I want to make sure you’re okay. I’m going to stop by to check on you. Just…call me back.’
Mason sounds pretty concerned. He’s usually calm and even tempered - unless his father is around. I feel bad. I didn’t want to answer him because I didn’t want to explain. Now, I have to. He’s not going to be happy if he goes to the apartment and I’m not there.
I don’t want to speak to him yet so I send a text letting him know that I’m fine. Seconds later, my phone rings. I have no choice but to answer.
“Hi, Mason.”
“Samantha. Where are you? I just got to the loft and you’re not here.”
“I went to the doctor.”
“Are you okay? What did they say?”
“I’m fine. Just a bug.” I hate lying to him, but I have to.
“When will you be back?”
“I don’t know. I’m with my mom on Long Island.”
“What?” he asks, upset, “when did you go? How did you get there?”
“I took a train this morning after you left.”
“You should have had Dan take you.”
“I didn’t want to trouble him,” I lie again. This conversation is making me feel even worse.
“Dammit. You’re sick. You shouldn’t be riding on the train.” I can hear the frustration in his voice. Mason’s so used to being in control. I’m sure this is driving him crazy.
“Sorry,” I reply, with so much more meaning than he knows.
“Don’t be. I’m sorry for getting upset. I just… I care about you.”
“Thanks.”
“You’re not off the hook yet, babe. I might have to spank you for being a bad girl,” Mason replies, sounding much more like himself.
I blush and press the phone closer to my ear, but don’t say anything back.
“I have to get back to work. I can have Dan come pick you up if you like,” he asks hopefully.
“That’s okay. I’m just going to stay here. I think I’ll take one more day to rest before I come back in to
“He’s amazing,” mom chimes in for me, “he treats my Sammy like a princess. She is the lucky one.”
“Okay, mom. He’s just a guy - not a prince,” I add.
The nurse walks in and hands a folder to Dr. Ahrens. She looks it over and beams at me, “it’s true! You’re having a baby!” She embraces me in a warm hug and then hugs my mother, “Ginny, you're going to be a grandma!”
I see a few stray tears roll down my mother’s cheek. I start to cry again. It’s really happening. No doubt about it now.
“So, Sam, judging from when you had your last period, I would guess you’re around eight weeks.”
“Already?” I ask, shocked.
“Yes. According to the math. Are your dates right?”
“I think so.”
“Great. Then you should make an appointment with your obstetrician so they can run some tests, get you on prenatal vitamins, and listen for a heartbeat,” she begins to list, “oh! This is so exciting.”
“Yeah,” I reply, much less enthusiastically than I should.
“I’ll get you started on some vitamins for now anyway. Make sure you listen to your body and rest when you need to. Have that prince take good care of you.”
I force a weak smile. We say our thank you’s and good byes and silently leave the office. I think my mother is in shock - as am I. Right now though, I’m more concerned with what comes next.
If I’m already eight weeks, I’m going to start showing in no time. I’m not going to have a choice much longer. I can’t give up the baby - that’s not an option. I’m old enough to have a child - even if it’s on my own. I can always find a new job if I need it and since I still live at home, my mother can help until I get on my feet. I don’t need Mason. I won’t hold him responsible for anything. I can’t do that to him.
My mother drives me back home. I scroll through my phone and see a few missed texts from Mason asking how I am. He called just a little while ago and left a message. I press ‘play’ and hold the phone to my ear:
‘ Samantha. I’m worried about you. You’re not answering and I want to make sure you’re okay. I’m going to stop by to check on you. Just…call me back.’
Mason sounds pretty concerned. He’s usually calm and even tempered - unless his father is around. I feel bad. I didn’t want to answer him because I didn’t want to explain. Now, I have to. He’s not going to be happy if he goes to the apartment and I’m not there.
I don’t want to speak to him yet so I send a text letting him know that I’m fine. Seconds later, my phone rings. I have no choice but to answer.
“Hi, Mason.”
“Samantha. Where are you? I just got to the loft and you’re not here.”
“I went to the doctor.”
“Are you okay? What did they say?”
“I’m fine. Just a bug.” I hate lying to him, but I have to.
“When will you be back?”
“I don’t know. I’m with my mom on Long Island.”
“What?” he asks, upset, “when did you go? How did you get there?”
“I took a train this morning after you left.”
“You should have had Dan take you.”
“I didn’t want to trouble him,” I lie again. This conversation is making me feel even worse.
“Dammit. You’re sick. You shouldn’t be riding on the train.” I can hear the frustration in his voice. Mason’s so used to being in control. I’m sure this is driving him crazy.
“Sorry,” I reply, with so much more meaning than he knows.
“Don’t be. I’m sorry for getting upset. I just… I care about you.”
“Thanks.”
“You’re not off the hook yet, babe. I might have to spank you for being a bad girl,” Mason replies, sounding much more like himself.
I blush and press the phone closer to my ear, but don’t say anything back.
“I have to get back to work. I can have Dan come pick you up if you like,” he asks hopefully.
“That’s okay. I’m just going to stay here. I think I’ll take one more day to rest before I come back in to
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