Unexpected Pregnancy at 45. Confusion is Something New.

April 10, 2017

 

 

April 9 – Father of Baby (FOB) and I have a date night to celebrate his 49th birthday.  (Birthday is tomorrow, but he’ll be back in Philly by tomorrow night.)  I have not seen him since April 1st.  He meets me at my house and we take an Uber over to Marcus Samuelsson's  restaurant, 

 

Red Rooster. They have live jazz tonight.  It should be fun.

 

I’m wearing a blue dress that is very  cleavage friendly.  My breasts are huge and have a lot of lovely blue veins pulsing across them.  FOB stares at them a lot during our time sitting at the bar. He is very sweet and touchy/feely this evening.  My not drinking alcohol isn’t really a tip off to my situation.  I had a really bad incident with alcohol back in March and had sworn of it for a while.  (In retrospect, my body was trying to tell me SOMETHING!  I listened a bit late, because I didn’t stop drinking and smoking until March 24th.) 

 

He finally asks me…did I find out the test results of the pregnancy test.  I tell him yes I did and yes, I’m pregnant.  He says, so you’re having a miracle baby then?  I rolled my eyes and said yes.  The miracle didn’t seem quite real yet. 

 

He asked if I wanted to talk about it and I said, not right now.  He said, ok, but we’d need to talk about it at some point.  I just nodded. He asked how far along I was and I told him 8 weeks.  He says we should talk soon.  (I didn’t go into the detail of how the doctors include two weeks in that number when you aren’t actually pregnant.) 

 

We can talk later.  Why dampen a perfectly nice evening?  I don't know up from down or left from right.  What the hell could we possibly be talking about? I don't know what I want to do  yet.  But every day I get a little more attached to the little guy in my tummy.  I am 99% sure I want to keep.  

 

Since FOB mentioned we should talk soon, after he asked me how far along I am, I am interpreting that as he doesn't want me to keep the baby.  Well to be fair, maybe he's thinking he doesn't want to be involved.  Obviously, he would have to respect my right to chose.  Right?  Dear God, please give me strength.

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