Chapter 8: Saturday 12th November
Donna barely has time to process Harvey's absence before she is hit by a wave of nausea. She runs to the bathroom and vomits.
She isn't sure if it's true morning sickness or anxiety. With the conundrum of her baby's paternity due to be resolved one way or the other in a couple of hours, Potential Father Number 1 in prison and Potential Father Number 2 AWOL, it would be surprising if she wasn't anxious.
She slumps on the bathroom floor, forehead resting on the cool side of the bathtub. She's working up the energy to go and get yet more toast to steady her stomach, but feeling too weak and defeated to move right away.
"Jesus Donna, what happened?"
She looks up, and Harvey is looming over her, dressed in a fresh suit and holding a bag of pastries from her favorite bakery.
He crouches down beside her and takes her hand.
"I woke up, and you weren't there, and then I was sick," she states flatly.
"I should have been here. I'm sorry. I was wide awake from about 4am, so I snuck out at 6 to grab some clothes and pick up breakfast. I'm here now, ok?"
She nods wearily. She is tired of feeling so crappy. Her night-time research told her she'll soon be in the second trimester, and she'll get to glow and have awesome hair. That sounds way more on brand for Donna than trimester 1, which seems to be all about crying on bathroom floors.
"OK let's get you up and into the shower."
"OK, but I think I need to eat something first. It helps with the sickness."
She has some dry toast, then showers, which makes all the difference in the world. They eat the breakfast that Harvey brought, saying very little.
Harvey seems nervous, looking like he's about to say something, then stopping himself. Finally, as they're finishing up, carrying the plates to the dishwasher, he comes out with it.
"You know I'm probably going to mess up… all of this. But I'm going to try, I mean really try, to be here for you. I don't care if the baby is mine or not. You're not on your own. OK?" He sounds hesitant, vulnerable, sincere.
She doesn't know what to say, so she hugs him. He hugs her back, but stiffly.
They get themselves ready, Ray picks them up and they head over to the hospital.
After a short wait, the sonographer calls Donna's name, and ushers them in. She introduces herself and asks Donna to lie on the bed, giving her a modesty sheet so she can pull up her dress without exposing her lower half. She lies there, with her bare midsection, feeling self conscious in front of Harvey, who is in full work mode, serious and tense, looking like her demanding boss, not the caring almost-boyfriend who probably got her into this situation.
The sonographer asks Donna for some basic details, including the date of her last period. Avoiding Harvey's eyes, she explains as briefly as possible about the expired implant. She should have remembered they'd ask this, she berates herself. She had known she needed to tell him, but with the difficult start to the day, she totally forgot.
Her tone must have betrayed her discomfort as Harvey steps closer, takes her hand, and squeezes it reassuringly. She feels a surge of gratitude: he really is trying.
The sonographer turns away to get some gel, and Harvey moves in close and whispers. "I'm here, Donna. OK? Whatever happens. Whatever happened."
She nods and gives him a wobbly smile.
The sonographer squeezes cold gel on her stomach, and they watch as the screen flickers grainily until a small dancing person takes shape.
Harvey's grip on her hand tightens.
"Yes, here's baby, looking very happy in there. I'm just going to be quiet for a few minutes while I take check some things and take some measurements which will help me to date the pregnancy.
Donna is transfixed, as the sonographer jiggles her stomach, rather uncomfortably at times, and they see the baby from all angles, more recognisably human in some positions than others. After a while, she sneaks a look of Harvey, who is staring at the screen with a look of mingled shock and wonder that probably mirrors her own. He looks back at her, gives her a lopsided smile and leans over to kiss the top of her head tenderly before he returns to staring at the screen.
The sonographer's voice pulls her out of her reverie.
"OK so this little one is about 12 weeks, which means conception took place about 10 weeks ago. Give or take five days either way. All looking perfectly healthy. Expected due date…let me see... 1 June."
It's Harvey's. She feels tears prick her eyes, and she feels a surge of pure joy. For years they've buried and denied their feelings for each other, but here it is, the living proof of what they mean to each other. It's going to cause some problems. It's not perfect. But right now she just feels thrilled.
The sonographer gives a run down of what she has checked, prints off a few photos and asks Donna to book in with an obstetrician, who would arrange her next routine scan, at about 20 weeks. She congratulates them, and they leave the office, dazed.
"Looks like we made a little shark after all."
"We are in a huge mess, and that's your response, she says with mock severity. You're an idiot Harvey Specter" But her voice brimming with affection.
"I have no idea how this is all going to work, and I'm fucking terrified. But I'm glad. That the baby's mine."
"Me too." That's an understatement for the tsunami of relief that washed over her when the sonographer said she was 12 weeks.
Donna has been clutching a copy of the scan photo. She holds it up, and the stare at it for a few moments, heads together, smiling.
"I have to go to work," he says gently. I wish I didn't, but I do."
"I know. I'll just go get changed and meet you there."
"What? No way! You're going to take the day and rest."
"I'm a big girl Harvey, and I'm not sick, I'm…"
"Donna! You have been sick. You fainted. We haven't been careful with you. And if anything happens to you or that awesome little person we saw in there…" His voice cracks.
"OK," she whispers, chastened by his uncharacteristic display of emotion.
He gathers himself, clears his throat and continues "Tonight, I'll finish by six, I'll bring dinner and we can talk."
Donna spends the day lounging around on the couch, alternating between dozing and googling random pregnancy-related questions and worries. She hadn't drunk much alcohol lately as she hadn't felt up to it (thankfully she threw it all up immediately last night). But she had had some earlier in the pregnancy - was that ok? Which prenatal vitamins are best? Did her ordinary multivitamin have folic acid? What if it didn't? Can she take a hot bath? God, she knows nothing.
She is beyond relieved that she isn't carrying a lasting reminder of her time with Stephen, just as she was sure she had put him behind her for good. And truthfully, in any passing fantasy about her future children, Harvey had always been their father. But she is still nervous at the prospect of what lies ahead of them. He seemed to be taking things well. But perhaps too well. He is probably still in shock - she certainly is herself.
He wants to be there for her and the baby: he has made that clear. But before he knew about the baby, he had also been clear that he wasn't ready for a relationship or fatherhood, and may never be. There is huge potential for him to let her down. She needs to be on her guard. She has more than just herself to think about now. To protect.
At 6.30, there's a knock at the door. Harvey stands there carrying two bags of groceries and smiling. Relieved that he still seemed to be in a good place, Donna stands back to let him in, and helps him unload the bags in the kitchen.
He fills her in briefly on what has been going on in the office as he whips up a stir fry, insisting that she try to eat more than toast.
Over dinner, they carefully avoid the main subject he's here to discuss. As they come close to finishing up, Donna's stomach clenches with nervous anticipation. "We should probably talk," she says, knowing they can't delay it much longer.
"Yeah."
He's silent.
"So how are you feeling about this?" she gestures at her abdomen. "Baby shark."
He laughs softly. "I thought I wasn't allowed to call her that."
"You're not. Just trying to break the ice."
There's more silence.
"Her?"
"I always pictured us with a girl."
Donna thinks she must have misunderstood. "You always did what now, Harvey?"
He looks abashed. "I've had a few dreams. Where we were together. Sometimes we had a kid... Always a girl. A redhead like you."
Well this is unexpected, thinks Donna. No one says anything for a few moments. It a lot for Harvey to admit this. It's a lot for Donna to process.
"So, how are you feeling?" Donna eventually probes.
"I'm feeling that… that I don't want to let this baby down. I want to be the dad she deserves."
"It's going to be a steep learning curve for us both. But we can learn together," she reassures him.
More silence.
"What about us?" she prompts. Jesus, this is painful. She had been so pleased that he'd wanted to talk, that he had actually turned up to talk, and not only that: he was in a positive mood. He'd said he's glad the baby's his. And he's dreamt about this, with her, for God's sake. They should be in a good place. But he's really struggling here.
"I don't want to let you down either. And I will."
"What makes you think that?"
"I don't think it, I know it." He stands up, heads to the window, running his hands through his hair in frustration at himself as he stares out of the window. "I'm letting you down right now."
"You're not, Harvey. You're…"
"I'm a goddamn mess."
"I think we need to do this as friends," she blurts out. "Being parents is going to be a lot. We should concentrate on that."
It's not what she wants. Not at all. But she needs to protect herself, protect the baby, and protect him.
"OK," he agrees, his voice barely audible.
She swallows down her acute disappointment. She wants him to fight for her, tell her he loves her, that he'll get there. They'll do this together, properly together. That they'll be a family.
"So we do this as friends," she continues. "But I want us to feel like friends, Harvey. Work is work, you don't need to treat me with kid gloves. But outside of that we need to keep talking. We can't be like we have been the last couple of months."
"No."
"And if there are other women I don't want to know." It would kill her, she thinks.
"There won't be."
"You've said that before."
"That's not fair. I didn't say I'd stop, just that it wasn't what I wanted. Now I'm saying it. I will. I have."
"OK."
Silence.
"And there will be an actual baby at the end of this, you know. We will have to prepare. Classes and things that we will need to fit around work."
"This is where it's useful that I got my secretary pregnant," he turns back to her, a smirk tugging at his lips, relaxing now the conversation is moving on to more practical territory. "Schedule it in my calendar, and I'll be there."
"Speaking of getting your secretary pregnant, how do you want to tell Jessica? She is going to be pissed at you."
"I'll worry about her later."
OK. Donna is dubious. This could damage him and damage the firm. Jessica is going to want time to think about how to handle this. Damage limitation.
"OK, but we found out late and I'll be showing soon. We can't defer it forever."
More silence. Harvey looks tense, staring at the table.
"Do you have questions about how this happened, Harvey?"
"I think I'm old enough not to need the birds and the bees talk, Donna."
"I mean about my mistake, Harvey."
"No," he says, almost top quickly.
"Because if you're mad at me, I would…"
"I'm not. We don't need to talk about it." he cuts in. "We are where we are."
"I was going to tell…"
"Donna, it's really fine."
She feels uncomfortable that he won't talk about this, let her apologize. He must have some feelings about it.
Donna thinks she isn't going to get much more out of him tonight, so she suggests that they both get an early night.
After he's gone, she tries not to overanalyze every part of their conversation. Time will tell, she thinks.