“Well, no contraceptive is foolproof. If you had a few days where you took it a couple hours later than usual, that can give your ovaries the green light to produce an egg. The pill stops the hormone surge that usually causes the egg to release. If you were late taking it, an egg can be released by your ovaries. It’s rare, but not unheard of.”
She still looked confused. “But I had my period last month.”
“You had some spotting. Not a true period.”
“Dang it all,” she said under her breath. Right. She didn’t swear. She was too refined for all that.
“How are you feeling? Physically, I mean?”
She blinked those amazing eyelashes. How much time did she spend on looking this way, damn it?
“Well,” she said, and her voice quavered. “I, uh . . . we’re still covered by doctor-patient confidentiality, right?”
“Right. And we always will be.”
“Okay.” She twisted the aforementioned pony-choker ring. “Well, I’ve thrown up a few times. My breasts are sore. My skin broke out, which it never does.” Of course not. “I’m a lot hungrier than usual, and I’ve already gained eleven pounds.” She paused. “I can’t seem to hold gas in.” Her face flushed.
I bet she’d never farted before in her life. “Those are all normal symptoms of pregnancy. That pain you felt in the exam room is most likely the ligaments and muscles stretching in your abdomen, making room for your expanding uterus. But if you have really bad pain or severe cramping, or any blood more than a few drops, call us right away.”
“Gosh. There’s so much going on. My pants are tight already.”
I couldn’t help a petty feeling of triumph. “Are you on any medications, either prescription or over-the-counter?”
“No. I take a multivitamin, though.”
“Good. How about fatigue?”
She nodded. “Definitely. It’s hard to stay up past nine. I thought it was jet lag.”
And how was Paris? “Mood swings?”
Another blush. “I’ve been a little more easily . . . irritated.”
Wonderful! I hoped Brad was miserable. “Again, totally normal. Your hormones are going wild. This may also cause a milky vaginal discharge, so use panty liners.”
“Darn it!” She let out an exasperated breath.
I reached in my drawer and pulled out a booklet, handed it to her. “Here’s some information about what’s happening in your body. If you decide to stay pregnant, you should have a monthly checkup. If you decide not to keep the pregnancy, well, we can discuss that, too.”
“Okay.” She thumbed through the booklet. “It says the baby is as big as a plum.”
“Mm-hmm. There’s a nutrition section in there to help you make good food choices. No alcohol, no marijuana in any form, no illicit substances, no smoking, and go easy on caffeine, saturated fats and sugar. Drink at least ten eight-ounce glasses of water a day. At least. I’m going to write you a prescription for prenatal vitamins, and you need to take one every day.”
“Okay.” Her voice was meek.
“I’m sure you have a lot to think about, so call the office if you have any questions. Wanda is a fantastic doctor, but there are also many great obstetricians and certified nurse-midwives closer to the hospital.” Please pick one of them.
“Thanks,” she said. She stood up, her hair so straight and shiny. “Thank you, Lillie.”
We looked at each other for a minute. “You’re welcome,” I forced myself to say. “Take care of yourself.”
When she left, I held my head in my hands. What was I going to say to Dylan if she kept the baby? And what if she didn’t? I’d know, and no one else. The last thing I wanted was to share a secret with my ex-husband’s new wife. No, the last thing I wanted was for him to have a baby with Melissa and screw up my son’s life even more.
My stomach growled, and crap, I had no food in the house. I left my office—Carol had gone home already—and locked up. I got in my car and drove to Stop & Shop in Orleans, the biggest grocery store on the Outer Cape. I’d get some . . . I don’t know. Sushi. A half gallon of ice cream. A Boston coffee cake. I blasted U2 and forced myself to sing along to keep thoughts of her out of my mind. “In the name of love!” I bellowed at the stoplight in front of Eastham’s town green. “What more in the name of love!” I didn’t have it hard. MLK had it hard, and it would be good to remember that kind of thing. I cruised around the rotary—God bless the off-season—and pulled into the store’s parking lot.