Not A TV Life...

Chapter Eight

I looked at the doctor. "Huh?"

"You have PTS, post traumatic stress syndrome. It's actually fairly common. The good news is.... you're pregnant!"

I laughed nervously. "That is good news, isn't it?"

"Yes, very good news." She, Dr. Krane, handed me my results. "Take this to the front desk and you should be good to go."

I managed a half hearted smile. "Thank you."

In the car, I started the engine and leaned back. I ran my fingers through my hair and  cried. I cried and cried. Jess and I had talked about having another kid, but that was it. It never amounted to anything but a talk.

Now I was pregnant, and at the worst possible time. Jesse and Joey's radio show had bombed, I got fired from Wake Up, San Fransisco, the house was getting smaller and smaller all the time...

How was I gonna tell Jesse? I knew getting an abortion was wrong; I couldn't kill a human being. I also couldn't give up my baby for adoption. Michelle's cute little words ran through my head. "What do I do? What do I do?" Having the baby was the only answer.

*********

When I arrived home, all the kids were sitting at the table coloring. I had a feeling that was Nicky and Alex's idea.

"Hi, Mama," Alex greeted me.

"Hi, sweetie... Aren't you supposed to be in school?"

"It's a teacher work day." Michelle explained.

"oh."

"How was your appointment?" Joey asked, coming up from downstairs.

"Why?" I almost snapped.

"I-I was just wondering.... Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." I sat down next to Alex.

He handed me a crayon. "Color."

"Ah, no thanks. Mommy doesn't feel like coloring."

Danny walked in. "How was your appointment, Becky?"

"Why does everyone want to know?" I stood up, "I went to the doctor's and them I came abck. That was it!" I stormed upstairs. I slammed the attic door shut as tears slid down my cheeks. I then ran to the bathroom, slammed the door shut, and hovered over the toilet. As I threw up, someone knocked.

"Becky, it's us. Are you okay? What's the matter?" Joey asked through the door.

After throwing up again, I flushed the toilet and came out. Everyone looked at me with concern. (Jesse was not at home at the moment.... Probably went out to buy more hair-care products..).

"I'm sorry, guys. Dr. Krane says I have Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome."

Post traumatic what?" Michelle asked.

"Post traumatic stress syndrome," Danny repeated and explained. "Will you be okay?"

I nodded. "She says if I can tackle it now, I won't be needing therapy."

"Was that what you were upset about? A little PTS?" Stephanie asked somewhat rudely.

"No, there's more."

"What?" Everyone asked.

"Well...." I took a deep breath. "I'm pregnant."

They congratulated me.

"Wait a minute. We're celebrating, shouldn't you be, too?" Stephanie inquired.

"Yeah..."

"But?" Danny urged me on.

"But I'm scared. This is not a good time to have a baby. I don't have a job, Jesse doesn't have a job, Jess's encumbered--"

"Becky, he'll only be in a sling for two months. Three months, tops."

"How do you know that?"

"I listened to the doctor."

"Oh...But, guys, don't tell Jesse. I wanna tell him."

"How? Through a game of picture charades?" Stephanie snarked.

"No. I'll tell him properly. Tonight."