The Kidnapper's Wife

52. Before

Four weeks. 

That's what the doctor said this morning when she came back into the examining room.

There I was in my striped hospital gown type dress, sitting all exposed on the table. I didn't want to think about why I was there before I went, didn't want to get my hopes up, or stress for no reason. So I just made the appointment using an app on my phone and went in.

And what am I feeling now, I ask myself as I sit in the car, not driving anywhere, just staring out the front windshield at the little pond behind the doctor's office. Scared. Excited. Nervous. Delighted. My core is a rush of emotions, all conflicting. They flutter around in my chest making physical butterflies in my stomach. 

I am pregnant. 

Four weeks along. I try to think back four weeks ago. I can't remember the specific moment it happened. Can't even remember the day all that well. Was that the day we went out for drinks with Connor's coworkers? 

Oh god, drinks. I think back in a panic to all the happy hours I've attended in the past month. Surely, they won't effect the baby. I mean, I didn't know I was pregnant. I should have asked the doctor though, just in case. I make a mental note to call her when I get home. 

In my hand sits a list of supplements the midwife said I should buy. She'd rattled them off as if she had them memorized. Which, now that I think about it, it would probably be a bad sign if she didn't have them memorized. Then she had asked me a flurry of questions. Do I want to have the baby in a hospital or at home? Do I know that I can't drink alcohol, coffee, eat shellfish, or go on roller coasters now? Have I noticed any pregnancy symptoms yet? Do I work out? If so, I need to keep my workouts low impact from now on. Oh and, almost as an afterthought, I do plan on keeping this baby right? Because if not she can recommend someone who can help me explore my other options.

I stared at her blankly, not answering any of her questions, in some sort of shock. There was a life growing inside me. Right there in my belly. Did I want to keep it? What kind of question was that. Of course I would keep this beautiful being Connor and I had made. How could I not?

The thing is, I think to myself now, I might be ecstatic at this new development but, I honestly am not sure how Connor will react. 

I've known I haven't been perfect about my birth control for a while. It hasn't been a conscious thing so much as something that's been happening in the background. A missed pill here, another there. Doubling up on Tuesday's dose because I forgot Monday's. I didn't really think it would lead to this. But it also wasn't completely out of nowhere.

For Connor it will be. He has no idea I'm not religiously taking my pills. It's not that I purposely haven't told him, its more that I've barely noticed myself that it's gotten that bad. But he'll have no idea this is even a possibility. Will he be happy? Angry? Upset? Scared? I have no idea. I like to think I understand my husband and that I can predict him, but sometimes he catches me off guard. I think back to the passport situation. Sometimes I'm just not prepared for how he'll react to things. 

I realize I'm nervous to tell him. I always pictured getting pregnant while trying. Coming home with the news to my husband and jumping up and down with joy while we planned a gender reveal party and prepped for baby showers. Making a nursery together and painting the walls pink or blue. I always thought I'd tell my husband with something cute, like giving him a bib with the words "I love Daddy" on it and filming his reaction. 

Now, I picture myself making Connor unwrap baby socks and filming his stony expression as he realizes what it means. What if he isn't happy? What if, I suddenly think, he doesn't want to keep the baby?

It's not like Connor and I haven't discussed having kids. We both know we want them eventually. I've always told him about how excited I am to have my own daughter like my sister does. Watching their bond makes me excited for a future like that for myself. 

But children have always been a future thing for us. A 'one day' idea. Not a now thing. Now isfor traveling, and happy hours, and hiking. Now is for Ruby and my family and our volunteering. Later is for our own family. 

But now later has turned into now. 

He won't be mad would he? I want to believe he'll be excited, that when I give him the news he'll smile and say 'What! Are you serious? We're having a baby!?' in that joyful sort of surprise that he has when the Red Sox get into the World Series. But all I can picture is closed off Connor in my head. Reacting to the news with a reproachful glare, saying, "How could you let this happen Jade? We never discussed this. We aren't ready for this. You have to fix this." 

I'm scared of that Connor. Because that Connor can hurt me. That Connor can ruin everything. I'm so excited about this baby, and I don't want Connor to make this into something negative. 

I remember that stress is bad for babies. Or at least, I think I've heard that. I put my hand on my belly as if I can shield the little one from my whirlwind of emotions. 

"Don't worry," I whisper out loud to my waistline, "Nothing is ever going to come between you and I my little love bug. I'll never let anything happen to you."