Disclaimer: I do not own Grey's.
After leaning over the toilet and heaving for the third time this morning, I leaned back against the bathroom wall. Closing my eyes and taking a deep breath, I heard Zola calling my name.
"Mommy!" she shrieked, promptly waking up Bailey.
I stood up, still feeling nauseous, and walked to her room.
"Momma!" Zola said excitedly.
"Come on, let's go get your brother," I said to her taking her hand.
While making breakfast in the cramped kitchen of the rented apartment, another wave a nausea overwhelmed me. I closed my eyes again, but when that did not work, I ran to the bathroom and promptly threw up.
"Mommy, are you sick?" Zola asked me as I walked back into the kitchen.
"No sweetie, I'm fine." I replied. I picked up the knife and continued cutting an apple, watching Bailey and Zola eating their toaster waffles. I rented the apartment for a month after leaving from Derek's funeral. With only a week left, I knew that I should begin packing. I had told myself that a month was all I needed. It would just be a break without the stares and 'I'm sorrys.' However, as the month came to a close, I wanted to stay longer. The break from reality was badly needed. We had adjusted quickly, but lately the shock had given way to the depression of Derek's death, and I had started to get sick, usually in the morning when there were no other distractions to think about.
After dropping Zola and Bailey off at a daycare so I could run some errands, I headed into the grocery store. As I pushed the shopping cart past the aisles, I saw the feminine care aisle. Turning in, I stopped for a minute. Realizing I hadn't had my period since coming to San Francisco, probably because of the stress of Derek's death, I continued my shopping, paid, and continued my errands.
The next morning, I woke up to the sunlight streaming on my face. Rolling over to look at the clock, a wave of nausea overwhelmed me again. Clamping a hand to my mouth, I ran to the bathroom and vomited into the toilet.
Reaching under the sink to grab another roll of toilet paper to wipe my mouth, I saw a box of unopened tampons. A thought came to me, and I froze in terror.
Sitting back, I counted in my head and realized that it was too long since I had my last period. Derek and I had tried once, the morning of his death. I didn't think it was possible. With a previous miscarriage and months of trying to no prevail a few years before, I just didn't believe it. There was no way I could be pregnant after one try. Numb and unsure, I decided to buy a pregnancy test.
After putting Zola and Bailey to bed, I walked into my bathroom and opened the box to the pregnancy test. I toyed with it in my hand before taking a deep breath, reaching the conclusion that I had to do it. I had to take the test.
Five minutes later I picked the white stick off of the counter and turned it over. My breath caught in my throat when I saw the two vertical lines.
Once the immediate shock passed, thoughts passed through my mind at a million miles per minute. There was no way I could raise three kids by myself. How could I be a good mother to three fatherless children? Tears stung my eyes and streamed down my face as I realized the full extent of my situation. There was a baby, a tiny blob of cells, in me. A baby that Derek so desperately wanted. A baby that he would never meet. Fears raced through my head. What if I miscarried again and lost my last proof of Derek? I needed to keep this baby safe.
Seeing the proof of Derek's child on the white stick confirmed my want to stay. I could not return to Seattle and face the pitying stares, the stares of the people who pity the widow carrying her dead husband's child. I knew I would stay in San Francisco. I would find a job. Eventually, I would send Alex a message reassuring him of mine and the kids' safety. San Francisco would become our new home.
I knew I could not contact anyone from Seattle. I could not contact anyone at all and tell them of my situation. Except one. I knew I could call my person. I could call Christina.
With this resolution in mind, I crawled into bed. I laid on my back and put my hand on my still-flat abdomen. Tears came to my eyes again as I thought about my baby's life. If it was a girl, she would never have a father to walk her down the aisle on her wedding day. If it was a boy, he would never have a father to go camping and fishing with. Derek would have loved that. I turned onto my side and fell asleep as the tears gently flowed onto my pillow.