Twenty-Five and Breaking the News

Richard's reaction face

On the afternoon I found out I was pregnant I went to pick up my boyfriend from coaching or whatever he’d been doing and the old familiar fight about cheating and mistrust ensued. Truthfully, I was really hurt that after a year and a half or two years he didn’t know me better than that. He said something hurtful and in a reaction I’d never had before—probably because I knew I was pregnant and he didn’t—I threw the keys at him so he could get into the house, tried to yell “go fuck yourself,” but it came out weird and crackly, and then sat on the other side of the car leaning against the wheel so I couldn’t be seen.

In my genius, I figured he’d not notice or not care that I was still around. Honestly, I think he was really shocked by my reaction. I hadn’t just kind of given up before and especially not on him. He came over and talked to me a bit, and soon enough we just began to talk about something unrelated—typical, and not deal with the problem at hand.

Meanwhile, I was avoiding my own problem at hand. After texting another friend about me being pregnant, I went to the bathroom again and took another pregnancy test. Since he was home this time, I carefully hid the evidence so if he did end up going to the bathroom, he wouldn’t see it—not that he regularly digs through the trash, but being a nervous person I prepared for him ferreting through it like some kind of disgusting squirrel.

When the second test came back positive, I knew I had no other choice than to tell him. That isn’t to say that I didn’t panic and look at both the cost and potential negative effects of abortion, but ultimately I knew that I wasn’t planning on breaking up with my boyfriend and that continuing to date him while having a huge omission hanging in the air didn’t seem like the best way to continue our already delicately balanced—read hanging on by a thread—relationship.

He went out to smoke a cigarette on the porch and after he’d finished I joined him on the porch. With a lump in my throat I told him I wanted to talk to him. Not knowing anything about the news he was about to receive, he responded with his usual “what about?” Hanging on the end of those two words was so much. I had no idea where to begin or end or what the middle was like.

Stumbling over my own thoughts I told Richard, "I think I might be pregnant."