Temporary Secretary

Part 24

7 April 1981

6:00pm Tuesday

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You were knitting a hat.

A little lavender hat.the needle over the needle making it's clacking sound. Over and over, the repetitive motion.

Kid needs a hat.

Well, if there would be a kid.

It was a good way to keep your mind occupied. You couldn't afford to get lost in your thoughts.

You had to call him.

Needle through the loop, pulling the thread through, over and over.

You were taught the continental style. It was much easier.

How big would the head be?

Christ. You didn't want to know. It'd be coming out of you.

You could've bought one instead. They sell them, don't cost so much.

No, homemade was better. Made with care, right? Loving care?

God. It was too early to think about what would come, to think about little hats and little knitted blankets. But, the knitting took your mind off it.

There was hardly a kid yet. It was still very early. Not much of anything in there that was quite a person. It could simply... not take. All your worry could be for nothing.

Then again, that was the excuse you'd been using the past month to put off thinking about it.

At ten weeks, though not completely certain, had a higher likelihood of taking than not. In four more weeks, the chance of losing it would be less than 1%.

It was the size of a strawberry now, they'd said. About an inch and a half. Settled in rather good, for the long run.

You'd gone to the doctor's shortly after the positive test, mostly in denial. You hadn't processed it. There was still the possibility of you having done the test wrong, or some other medical issue. The two week wait was as unbearable as you'd anticipated.

You'd done your best to put it out of your head, occupying yourself with work, or other repetitive tasks. The sickness wasn't making it any easier.

Your symptoms had only gotten worse after the sixth week. You'd been exhausted, dizzy, nauseous, even getting headaches now and again. The work certainly didn't help in those aspects. But, in a way it was better to deal with that than the stress that came with thinking about it.

Well, soon enough, rather quick too, those two weeks passed. You sure enough got your results back. Positive.

You should have known as much. At this point it was increasingly difficult to deny it. You weren't bleeding anytime soon. What else could it be, eight weeks late?

At least the work was doing it's job. You could keep busy throughout the day, and it didn't even cross your mind. Doing as you always did, albeit with a sickness. It was the nights that were worse. When you lay in bed and had no other distractions to speak of, your eyes shut.

The lingering nausea creeping in, the room spinning, you couldn't hope to avoid your own mind. Every single worry you tried to push out. What was to come, what it entailed, the gravity of your situation.

After hearing back from the doctor, you numbly went through the steps of planning the coming appointments typical for women with your affliction.

You could get rid of it. It was still early. You hadn't decided yet.