“This isn’t how my life is supposed to go…”
I muttered, stunned, as two bright pink lines on the pregnancy stick stared back at me.
I was only 25. A career woman. I’d just landed my dream gig with a metropolitan TV network after spending 2 years interstate chasing my television reporting dreams. Your dad was overseas. I’d simply taken a pregnancy test to alleviate what I was sure were unfounded concerns.
I mean, after all, I was only a day late. There was no way I was pregnant.
Except, I was.
“I’m pregnant. I’m having a baby,” I said out loud to no one in particular.
I know you’ll roll your eyes at this, but I’d visited a psychic a few weeks earlier who emphatically told me as I sat down, “right so you’re pregnant.”
Despite my protests that I was absolutely not, she was adamant.
I laughed about it with everyone I came across, “how ridiculous!” I would say… while downing a glass of wine/a margarita/anything alcoholic (sorry!).
A week later, I experienced strange cramps and I knew this was the beginning of you.