I woke up early the next morning and untangled myself from Bosco's embrace. I carefully peeled the blankets off of me and climbed out of bed. I watched him out of the corner of my eye, hoping that he wouldn't wake up.

He looked like a little boy when he slept. His hair all tousled and messy, his eyes sewn shut and his mouth half open. One thing was for sure; he was gonna regret going out last night. The smell of alcohol was reeking from him and it made my stomach sick and I knew he was gonna feel awful when he woke up. Served him right, I giggled to myself. He'd be paying homage to the porcelain God before the morning was through. It was enough punishment for him; I didn't need to say anything else to him.

If he'd done this to me two day ago, I'd of been unconsolable. I would have freaked out solid on him for not calling me and not coming home until hours after his shift. But today was a new day. A day for being happy just to be alive. I was having a baby and I felt like things were going to be alright.

For the first time in weeks, I actually contemplated going out with the girls or going out to a movie. This new life growing inside of me gave me hope. It didn't much matter what Bosco wanted. I know it was selfish of me, but even if he didn't want this baby, I was going to keep it. I very much doubted that he would tell me to get rid of it. But it didn't matter even if he did. I already loved this child and I was gonna give it the best home.

Thoughts of Emily and Charlie came to me as I got dressed. Good thoughts about them from their early years. I remembered them as toddlers and then as pre-teens. Emily was a handful and Charlie, oh Charlie was my angel. Never complaining, never hard to handle. My son was blessed with a curiosity and love for life and all it had to bring. I missed them. Missed them so much it was hard to believe that I'd ever recover from this pain. But now I had reason to move on.

I wondered how Bosco would be as a dad. I never for one second thought that he'd be rotten like his old man, but what kind of dad would he be? The kind who came home and gave their kid a bath or played ball in the park? Or would he be distant and moody, irritated because he was forced to marry the woman he got pregnant?

I shook my head to clear away my thoughts. Bosco would never react that way to my news. He loved me, right?

I got into the shower and dressed as quickly as I could. I was still weak and pale and hadn't had much to eat in days, but this news of mine had perked me up to the point that I really did feel like eating. The joys of pregnancy; sometimes you eat and sometimes you just throw up. Eat while you can and while you still want to.

I made an appointment with my doctors office and headed out the door after leaving Bos a quick note.

Bosco,

I had an errand to run. I'll be back soon. Don't worry.

Love, Faith

I didn't have to wait long to get in. This was my lucky day and it didn't hurt that my doctor took me right away, knowing the tragedy that had befallen me.

It stared off as a routein exam. Him checking my blood pressure and feeling around my belly. He took blood and asked me how I was feeling mentally. I, of course, had been better, but told him that I was really happy and excited for myself and for Bosco.

This was going to be the best gift I could ever give him; a child of his very own.

"Do you want to know how far along you are?"

"Ya. Sure. I already have an idea, though." I said.

He did some calculations on his computer and looked over at me.

"You're about six weeks along now."

Dead air. Drowning. I'm drowning. It couldn't be right. It couldn't be. I'd had to be a mistake.

I caughed, trying not to burst into tears. "I'm sorry. There has to be some mistake Doctor. Did you say six weeks?"

He nodded, a look of concern forming on his face. "I'm sure. Is there something wrong, Faith?"

Not at all. No. Nothing wrong here. I felt all the air being sucked out of my lungs. I ducked my head in between my legs that were dangling over the edge of the examination table, trying to breathe....or maybe wishing that my earlier thoughts of suicide weren't so bad after all.

Six weeks. I was carrying Jimmy's baby.