Total pages in book: 40
Estimated words: 37079 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 185(@200wpm)___ 148(@250wpm)___ 124(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 37079 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 185(@200wpm)___ 148(@250wpm)___ 124(@300wpm)
“Of course, Kara.” The doctor smiles. “Now, do you want to hear the baby’s heartbeat?”
This is my favorite part of my recent appointments. Dr. Hussein pulls out the Doppler probe and presses it against my stomach. For a moment, there’s silence. Then, I hear the rapid thump-thump of my baby’s heart.
“Everything sounds and looks great, Kara,” the doctor says, as tears stream unbidden down my face once again. I wipe them away with my hand, and smile at her as she returns my grin.
When I’m safely back in my dorm room, I lie in bed, staring at the ceiling. It’s true that I can do this on my own. Thousands of single moms do it every year, and I feel more confident about this than ever. After all, I’ve been taking good care of myself the past several months, ever since I found out I was pregnant. I haven’t been drinking, or partying, or staying up late; I do my homework and go to bed early. The old Kara, pre-pregnancy Kara, probably wouldn’t even recognize me. But I am proud of myself for changing my life for my baby.
But that doesn’t mean it’s easy. And it doesn’t mean I am not painfully lonely.
I scroll mindlessly through social media. Several of my friends and family members are having babies, and their beautiful families grin brilliantly at me from virtual photos. Other friends are in relationships, getting engaged, and getting married. A small kernel of envy pops in my stomach. What did they do to deserve that happiness? Why can’t I have some of the same?
Before I realize what’s happening, I’m typing Rick’s number into my phone. My thumbs hover over the screen, poised to articulate any of the messages that careen through my brain.
I love you.
I miss you.
I’m pregnant.
I can do this alone, but I’m afraid.
Please forgive me for breaking up with you. I didn’t want to, but I felt like I had to.
With a tortured cry, I throw my phone to the edge of my bed and curl up on my side.
I can’t say these things because nothing has changed, and now, Rick will never know how much I need him.
And although it breaks my heart, unfortunately it’s better this way.
10
Kara
I don’t realize that I’ve fallen asleep until someone shakes me on my shoulder.
“Kara? Kara.”
I snap back into consciousness, my head lifting from my desk so quickly that I worry I’ve given myself whiplash. “Huh? What?”
“Kara, the exam’s over. Can I have your test?”
My elderly professor is looking at me askance. Thank God I fell asleep when I was finished with my exam, and not halfway through it--or halfway through a lecture. I can’t afford to do poorly in school. I need every credit that I can get, since time is now of the essence with a baby on the way.
“I am so sorry, professor,” I say, handing her my exam. Thank god there’s no drool on it. “Thanks for waking me up. With the way I sleep, I could have still been here tomorrow.”
“Well, try to get more sleep at night, instead of during the day,” she says. I nod and smile half-heartedly.
As I exit the building, I can’t hold back a yawn that seems to emerge from the very depths of my chest. Truthfully, I’ve barely been sleeping at all lately. I’m only showing a little, but it feels as though my little bundle of joy is causing havoc on the inside. If I am not nauseous or wracked with terrible heartburn, then I am powerfully craving certain foods; I even cried at the thought of a cheeseburger last week. In fact, I cry over most things. My every emotion has been cranked up to eleven, as if I am careening up and down through an endless emotional rollercoaster.
Yet despite the changes to my body and brain, no one, besides my doctor, knows about my pregnancy. The bulge of my stomach is small enough that I can hide it with baggy sweaters, and because it’s winter, no one questions me. Any other weight gain can be attributed to the all-you-can-eat nature of dorm food. I’ve confessed to a few folks about my difficulty sleeping, and have used my sleeplessness to explain my turbulent mood swings. But no one has expressed any suspicions, and I’m grateful for that.
As excited as I am to be a mother, and as much as I already love my baby, I still can’t escape from the dark cloud hanging over my head.
I look up to see that the sky is literally gray now, promising snow, and soon. I hunker down further into my winter coat and quicken my pace to the dorms. I love watching snow fall if I’m snugly ensconced in bed, but having it fall on me when I am already feeling foul is less than ideal.