I felt almost chained to my bed, my tears stinging my eyes. My body from the chin down felt almost paralyzed. I was able to move, to touch the comforters that had seemed to engulf me in themselves. I knew I could move, and I knew I should've gotten out of bed a couple of days ago, but my body remains still, my tears burning into my rosy cheeks. I was overreacting, but the sudden wave of nausea and worry hadn't made things feel any better. In fact, it only worsened my condition, my state of mind. I felt as if I was a piece of thin glass, so easily broken at the slightest obstacle.

Except this wasn't an obstacle. This was fear. This was frustration. This was denial. The past couple of months had already taken a toll on my physical and mental health. I remember the blur of events, the days spent in my bathtub, crying my heart out, indulging the bottles of red wine I stored in my apartment like there was no tomorrow, or the days I had to go put some food in my system and ignoring the concern other people had when they had seen the condition I was in. I blamed myself so much for it, and now to find this? It nearly broke me when I first found out. How was I supposed to care for this baby when I couldn't have even bothered to take care of myself?

Feeling another wave of nausea, I knew I had to get up whether I liked it or not. I found that my phone was turned off. I don't remember when I had turned it off as I didn't remember a lot of things. I didn't remember the last time I ate something or when I had taken the at-home pregnancy test that had still haunted me ever since I found out. Rubbing my forehead, I reach over for the bottle of Xanax I had taken before I found out, to help me fall asleep, to get rid of the million thoughts forming in my head for just a few hours. I remembered that I had an actual, human being growing inside of me. I would be ecstatic, but the thought of it had scared me, it had worried me, it had made me feel so much anger and resentment towards Owen. I hate that I felt so much towards him, but at times I had regretted kicking him out of my apartment.

I ended up turning on my phone instead, not wanting to feel even more guilt than I had already felt. I typed in my password and within a second, hundreds of notifications blew up at a time. I had taken a leave of absence a while back, again couldn't remember, as the last two months were quite a blur. I had said I needed some time to recuperate, to recover. I checked my text messages, none of them from Owen. I hate that I had to check, but part of me wished he had left tons of voicemails and texts to see how I was doing. Most of the messages were from co-workers, asking for stuff involving work, the messages as old as two months back. I paused, closing my eyes as I could feel dizziness and nausea move over me. I swayed back and forth, before vomiting into my small trashcan, empty and sort of dusty. I looked at the pregnancy tests on the table again, my phone in my hand. My heart started to beat heavier like it always would, looking at the tests. I took a few shaky breaths, wiping my tears as I started to type out a message to my obstetrician.

"Hi, Teddy Altman here, from Medcom, was hoping to schedule an appointment with you? Anytime today works if that's possible. Thank you." I typed up, hesitantly pressing send.

I cleared my throat, biting my inner cheek as I pressed my hands gently to my abdomen. I really tried to be happy, I really have, but all I could think about was: What am I going to tell Owen? Am I even gonna tell him? How's he gonna react? Am I sure I want to do this? I sighed, gently rubbing my abdomen, closing my eyes as I waited for a response back. I felt like going back to bed, but I couldn't do this, not again. I needed to take care of myself, I needed to take care of this baby. I heard my phone go off with a prompt ding, almost immediately checking to see what she had replied with.

"So happy to hear from you Teddy! Look forward to seeing you in perhaps an hour?" I read to myself, thinking of a polite way to reply.

"Yes, thank you so much Bethany!" I replied, holding my phone close to my chest as I needed a second to breathe.

I did not know how I was going to bring myself together. I don't even remember the last time I went outside. My bed had grown to be my safe space, sometimes my worst enemy. Though I did remember, that night I had kicked Owen out, I had ripped the sheets off, despite how much I loved the feel of the white sheets gently caressing your back. Then I go to my window seat, one of my favorite places in the apartment as you could watch the snow fall from the sky. I remember attempting to throw away the pink throw on blanket, but I remembered how comfy it felt. It had joined the white sheets tucked far into my closet. I didn't want to throw them away as I didn't have the guts to. I had to move on, but I didn't know how to. I didn't know how to repair myself. I just couldn't see myself moving on, and I was in need of some good news, and not the voices of concern from other people, questioning my sudden disappearance.

Either way, I knew that whether I had chose to move on or not, I needed to confirm, was this really true? Was there seriously an innocent human being growing inside of me? The at-home pregnancy tests could've been false right? Highly doubt it. You can't detect something that's not there right? Tears blurred my vision for who knows how many times I have teared up. I proceeded to get up and take a shower. I threw on a work blouse, some dress pants and a blazer to match the whole outfit, but then realized I wasn't going to work, nor wanted to, as I didn't want to be bombarded with questions. I changed into a simple blouse and jeans, matching them with a coat as I grew colder faster than most here. I left the house with my phone and an empty stomach, driving by a local Starbucks, as I didn't feel hungry but didn't remember the last time I had eaten anything. I bought a sandwich and a decaf coffee, on my way to the obstetrician promptly. I ate the sandwich while I drove, driving at a moderate speed. I pulled into a parking space, taking a big gulp of the coffee as I had desperately wanted to go back to bed. I'm sure my ob would have many questions as well. I wiped my mouth, checking my appearance. I had looked tired, my face was bare, so you could see the tears stained on my cheeks, but they were hard to come off.

I frowned at my pale complexion, opening the door and heading inside. I glanced at the ladies. Most were pregnant, either in their second or third trimester. I saw others who didn't seem pregnant at all but had children of their own already. I quickly signed in, not bothering to look the front desk worker in the eye as I knew I had looked like a trainwreck and didn't need any commentary. I hesitantly sat down in between a woman that had looked probably in her third trimester and another that had that pregnancy glow, the one you would see in those magazines or tv shows.

"Is this your first?" The woman to my right asks, caressing her very swollen baby bump. She seemed friendly, while I, on the other hand, did not.

I was about to nod, but found myself shaking my head. "It's my third and counting.." I lied, forcing a smile.

"Oh, congrats! This is my first." She softly smiled at me. "How old are your kids?" She asked, holding her husband's hand.

"I have a daughter that's nearly five now, already becoming a fashionista." I joked, wrapping an arm around my side. "And I have a three-year-old, he's really shy but he loves to play with his older sister." I lied, looking up at her.

"Miss Ketchman?" The nurse called out, and the woman stood up with her husband, heading inside.

A few minutes later, my ob, Bethany, otherwise known as Dr. Anderson, spotted me in the waiting room, escorting me to the room, herself. I changed into the gown, laying down onto the exam chair, folding my hands over my lap as I grew nervous. I had felt super unprepared and my body had felt so cold in the thin gown. The place seemed inviting to everyone. Everyone except me. I couldn't believe that in a few months, I'd be holding a bundle of joy in my arms. It made me question myself. How was I expecting myself to have a beautiful baby in my arms in a few months if I couldn't have even ensured the safety of my baby? Dr. Anderson asked me a few questions and I couldn't unsee the surprised look on her face when she figures out I'm already 41 years old. She quickly changed her expression to a friendly smile, continuing to gather information, taking my blood pressure, weight, and of course a blood sample.

"Have you taken any sleeping pills or had some alcohol in the past few weeks?" She asked me, as my cheeks burned a rosy pink. "I promise I won't judge, nor can judge, just doing my job." She explained.

I hesitantly nodded, a wave of guilt rushing over myself. "A few sleeping pills here and there, I've drank quite a few glasses of wine.." I admitted, nearly trembling. "Please tell me my baby will be okay.." I said, rather desperately as I was already weak. I probably couldn't have handled anymore bad news.

"You know I can't assure you that as of right now as there may be defects with the baby during birth but let's not worry about that for right now. The best part of the appointment is finally here and we'll hopefully be able to hear the baby's heartbeat today." She smiled, getting started.

We've finally moved onto the most awaited part of the appointment that everyone looks forward to which is, of course, the ultrasound. Laying on the exam chair with my legs on stirrups had never made me feel more nervous until now. Being a doctor, I knew this was a normal procedure, but to be the patient instead of the doctor? It felt like I had lost control, I had felt so alone as no one was with me during the appointment. I had put this on myself and this was what I deserved, or at least I had thought so. I closed my eyes, trying to calm my nerves as she moved the transducer inside my cervix. I couldn't help but to grimace each time she moved it as I dug my nails through my palm. Bad habit, as it sometimes called for bandaging my hand.

"..and there is your healthy baby. I'd say 9 weeks, 2-3 days, give or take." She said with a warm smile, pointing to the bean-shaped fetus.

I opened my eyes and tearfully smiled, as Dr. Anderson turned on the volume. Listening to the sound of my baby's heartbeat made my heart skip a beat. I couldn't have denied it. In that very moment, I knew that I couldn't have give this baby away. This baby was apart of me. This baby deserved a father. I certainly did not know how I was going to tell Owen, but I had to, no matter how much it would break me. I had hoped it wouldn't break me.