I
โm going to tell him today.
I canโtย notย tell him today.
Iโm reaching the point where I donโt think I can
delay it any longer. Itโs been a week since our living room sex-fest, and I still havenโt put on my big girl pants and told my boyfriend weโre with child. But Allieโs rightโGarrett is going to start recognizing the changes in me. Last time, heโd noticed my swollen breasts. Who knows what heโll notice next time. And next time, maybe heโll connect the dots.
So todayโs the day. All I have to do is wait for Garrett to finally drag his ass out of bed so I can tell him. Though in his defense, itโs only eight in the morning. Iโm the one who woke up at an ungodly hour.
I thought the upside to pregnancy was not having period cramps, but jokeโs on me. Now I have pregnancy cramps. I woke up at the crack of dawn feeling like I was getting kicked in the stomach by a horse. Even a long, hot shower and some Tylenol hasnโt done anything to abate this sensation that makes me long for last weekโs constant nausea.
No excuses, an inner voice pipes up, that wise part of me that knows Iโd been about to convince myself to use
cramps as an excuse to stall again.
But nope. No stalling. Today is the day.
โMotherfucker!โ Garrett shouts from the bedroom. Okay, maybe todayโs not the day.
Lying in the living room with my laptop and headphones while I work on a new song, I jump at the outburst. Sliding the earphones off, I hear what sounds like Garrett cursing and getting into a scu๏ฌe with our closet.
I hurry toward our room. โYou okay in there?โ
โDo I have to wear a tie to this thing?โ He comes out half-dressed with a wad of ties in his hand.
โWhat thing?โ
He spares me a dark look. โThe Legacyย interview. The first taping is in a couple hours.โ
Yikes. Today isย definitelyย not the day.
Iโd totally forgotten Garrett was doing that this morning. Stupid pregnancy brain has been kicking in lately, jumbling my thoughts. Yesterday I couldnโt remember where Iโd left my car keys, searching for twenty minutes before realizing I was holding them in my hand.
โRight.โ I eye the tie selection. โNormally I would say no, but your agent would probably disagree.โ
Garrett mutters something rude under his breath and goes back to the closet for a rematch. โThe premise of this whole thing is ridiculous to being with. I donโt see why they think anyone is interested in watching Phil bullshit his way through a bunch of fond family memories.โ
โBecause they donโt know itโs bullshit,โ I point out.
But heโs now spinning himself into a small tirade. Not that I blame him. If I had a father like Phil Graham, Iโd be spitting mad all the time too.
โSwear to God, if he brings up my mom, Iโm going to lose it.โ Garrett reappears, looping a navy silk tie around his neck. He pulls on it so tight, Iโm worried heโll choke himself.
โDid you give the producers a list of no-no questions?โ I know a lot of celebrities do that. Every time Nice gives an interview at the studio, his manager steps in to remind the journalist of the questions they arenโt allowed to ask.
โLandon told them I donโt want to talk about my mother. Gave them the grief excuse, itโs too painful, that sort of thing.โ Garrettโs jaw tightens. โBut I wouldnโt put it past my father to bring her up himself.โ
I bite my lip. โYou know, you donโt have to do this. You can just call Landon and tell him you donโt want to. He gets paid to say no for you.โ
โThen what? Answer a bunch of questions about why I backed out at the last minute? Phil knows I canโt.โ
โSo you say nothing, ignore it, and in a week or two it goes away. Some football player gets arrested or says he wonโt play until they buy him a pony and youโre off the hook.โ
But he doesnโt want to hear it. Itโs too late to ease Garrett out of this rage spiral, and the best I can hope for is that he keeps his temper under control while the cameras are rolling. Maybe Landon will have better luck with him.
 |
After Garrett leaves, I welcome the alone time. I slip into
a pair of cotton boxers and a tank top and climb back into bed, spending the next couple of hours nursing my cramps and trying to get some work done. Eventually I figure out that part of my stomach pains is hunger and get up to make myself a sandwichโonly to come back to bed to see a small red stain on the sheets.
When I hurry into the bathroom to check, I realize my underwear is stained as well.
While itโs not a full-blown panic, my pulse kicks up a notch while I change, strip the bed, and text Allie. She gets
back to me while Iโm putting the sheets in the wash, with the assurance that some spotting is normal.
ME:ย Youโre sure? Iโve felt like crap all morning.
HER:ย Iโm looking at the Mayo Clinic website right now. Says itโs common.
ME:ย When does it become not common?
HER:ย Iโll send you some links. But I donโt know. You know what? Call Sabrina. Sheโs probably a better person to talk to.
ME:ย Good idea.
My first instinct had been to text Allie, my closest friend. But sheโs right. I should be reaching out to someone whoโs actually gone through this. And hey, Iโll even be able to avoid the awkward news-breaking part, because Sabrina already knows about the pregnancy. Allie the traitor let it slip in our girlsโ chat.
So I call Sabrina, who picks up on the first ring. I have a feeling she saw my name on the phone and thought, what the hell? We rarely call each other outside of the chat thread.
โHey. Everything okay?โ she asks immediately.
โI donโt know.โ Iโm suddenly resisting the urge to cry. Stupid hormones. โWhen you were pregnant with Jamie, did you ever have any bleeding?โ
โBleeding or spotting?โ Her tone is sharp. โSpotting.โ
โLight or heavy?โ
โLight-ish? Stained my sheets and underwear, but itโs not a constant flow.โ
I can almost hear her relaxing on the other end, as she exhales a breath. โOh, then yes. Thatโs normal. Any other symptoms?โ
โSome cramps this morning, but theyโve subsided.โ
โAlso normal. My advice is to monitor it for the day. If the spotting turns to bleeding, Iโd go to the hospital.โ She hesitates. โCould be a sign of miscarriage.ย Butย it could also be nothing.โ
โMommy!โ I hear a plaintive cry in the background. โI canโt find my purple bathing suit!โ
โSorry. Thatโs just Jamie.โ Sabrinaโs voice goes mu๏ฌed for a moment. โWhy donโt you wear the green one instead, then?โ
โBUT I WANT THE PURPLE!โ
Jesus. Iโm pretty sure Sabrinaโs covering the phone with her hand, yet I can still hear that kidโs shriek.
โOkay, Iโll find it for you. One sec.โ Sabrina returns. โHannah, I have to go. Iโm taking Jamie to the pool andโโ
โI heard.โ
โCall me if anything changes, okay? Keep me updated.โ โWill do.โ
After we hang up, I draw a deep breath and tell myself everythingโs okay. But no matter how many times I repeat the mantra, I canโt shake the idea that somethingโs wrong. Before long, Iโm tumbling through my own little spiral as I tunnel deeper into pregnancy blogs and medical journals searching for an explanation. The consensus being that Sabrina is probably right.
Unless she isnโt.
