Rosie Labrun is a lot of things: a college student on the cusp of graduation; an intern for the Portland Pirates, a romance novel connoisseur; and the most recent addition to her resume...the girlfriend of a professional athlete.
She won't let it d...
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"He should be here any minute." I tell the doctor, for what feels like the millionth time. I don't know if I do it for her - because I feel bad about Erik running late; or if I do it more for myself, because I'm starting to doubt if he'll actually show up.
She seems to share the sentiment, giving me an sympathetic smile before turning her eyes back to the computer screen. One small fetus - check. One half-eaten burrito floating around in my esophagus, which felt like it might burst out when she was pressing on my stomach for the ultra sound - also check.
We're sitting in an exam room - the same place we've been sequestered to for the last twenty minutes. It's hot; and there's this really strong smell of latex in the air - like any time someone books an appointment to discuss their options, it's a mandatory thing to spray the room with a latex-scented air freshener. As if every pregnant woman that's ever considered abortion, hasn't already spent an ample amount of time agonizing over how her situation came to be.
Except in Erik and I's case, the problem wasn't that we skipped the condom. Don't get me wrong, there have definitely been plenty of times where he didn't have one and I considered it for a second. But then I would remember my anxiety disorder - and the fact that if we didn't use a condom, I would most-definitely be obsessing over the possibility of being pregnant - at least, until mother nature came banging on my door, with her usual gift of the month.
Let me tell you something, Mother Nature sucks at giving gifts.
"Do you want to maybe try calling him?" Dr. Harris - who has told me to call her Melissa, multiple times, asks me. She looks like she's fresh out of medical school, which is probably why she's stuck working at a place like this. The only family planning clinic in Portland, which doesn't have angry protesters stomping around outside of it.
See, originally, I had an appointment booked with Planned Parenthood; and then I drove by the posters with dead babies slapped across it, and reconsidered my options. Not the abortion - I've known I wanted to have one since that annoying pink fucker showed up on my pregnancy test. But the part about being harassed and called horrible slurs; as if the people protesting think I would be getting an abortion, just for the fun of it.
Like yeah, instead of playing Sims 4 or reading a romance novel, I decided the best use of my free time would be to get knocked up by my boyfriend. And then rather than taking Plan B, wait until 6 weeks later, when I would have to abort it. As if the decision itself - no matter how quickly thought of, wasn't agonized over; reconsidered, a million different times.
Adoption; abortion; and the most terrifying of all - keeping it, all of them had been options that Erik and I went over - with a fine-toothed comb. Some options - obviously, seemed more enticing than others.
Like we were the overly-excited contestants on the Price is Right, there were three doors we could choose from - only one which would deem us to be winners.
