After a week of Reba's constant sickness, Brock was starting to get worried. He carried the phone to her one morning.

"Call the doctor. Go see him." Reba looked up at him.

"I'm fine, honestly."

"Please Reba." He left the phone with her and walked out of the bathroom. Reba looked at it before she threw up again. Was this food poisoning ever going to go away?

"Well, maybe he could prescribe something for me." She thought. So she picked up the phone and called the doctor.

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Reba sat in the doctor's office while he looked at her chart.

"From what you've told me Mrs. Hart your problem could be a number of things."

"Can you give me a slight indication of what any of those could be?" She asked and he looked up from her chart.

"You could be right. It could be a really bad case of food poisoning."

"Or?" He smiled.

"Instead of playing the "what if" game, we'll test the blood sample the nurse took today and I'll call to let you know when the results are in." He paused. "I also need a urine sample."

"Why?" Reba looked at him quickly.

"We need all the tests we can do Mrs. Hart." He replied. The doctor handed her the cup and she walked down the hall towards the bathroom.

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"What'd the doctor say?" Brock asked when she got home. Reba shrugged.

"I will hear soon enough. The doctor said it could be a number of things. He did a blood test and a urine test."

"Both?! Does he think we're made of money?!" Brock exclaimed. Reba glared at him.

"Brock, they are running these tests to see what's wrong with me. Maybe you just don't care." Reba crossed her arms.

"I do!" He replied. "I just don't think that I can afford them."

"Brock, it's important to do this. I'm tired of feeling sick all the time; I want to figure out how to get rid of this." He walked over and hugged her.

"I know you do, Reba, I know." He put his chin on the top of her head. "I love you." He whispered. Reba nodded. "What's wrong?" Brock touched her arm. She turned around slowly.

"I think I'm going to be sick." With that Reba quickly walked out of the living room and into the bathroom past the dining room.

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A few days later, Reba was sitting on the couch when the phone rang.

"Hello?" She asked.

"Mrs. Hart?" A deep voice said. Reba sat up in her seat.

"Yes doctor?"

"We've received your test results back."

"Oh." Reba said quietly.

"We'd like you to come down here. It's better to share these results in person."

"That bad huh?"

"Mrs. Hart; I'd rather not share that on the phone." Reba swallowed hard.

"When could we schedule an appointment?" Reba asked.

"I don't have my schedule in front of me, my receptionist knows, but I believe I have an opening tomorrow at 11:30. Is that alright for you?" Reba nodded to herself.

"11:30 is fine." Reba replied. "So you'll be able to give me something for this sickness? I'm tired of getting sick everywhere." The doctor laughed.

"We'll take care of that." Reba shook her head.

"Alright."

"Good day Mrs. Hart."

"Good afternoon." Reba hung up the phone and was more concerned than ever. What was going on? How sick could she be? Would the doctor have told her what it was over the phone if it was just food poisoning? What could it be? Cancer? Reba shuddered. She didn't want to think about that. She would find out tomorrow.

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Reba sat on the paper in the doctor's office looking around waiting for him to come in. Finally, after letting her sweat it out about twenty minutes, he walked in with her chart.

"Mrs. Hart." He nodded.

"Doctor," She replied. He smiled and sat down, "look, can we cut to the chase. What's going on with me? Am I going to die?" He laughed.

"No, you aren't going to die Mrs. Hart." He sat his chair in front of her and put the file in his lap. "Physically you will be affected by this ailment for about the next two years, including post-partum. Then, even though it's not physically you, it'll be the next eighteen years or so physically on you; but it'll be psychological, mental, and emotional for a lifetime."

"What?" Reba questioned. He looked up at her from his chair.

"Mrs. Hart, you aren't dying. You're pregnant."