When the nurse called my name, I followed her into a room that smelled faintly of disinfectant and lavender. She took my blood pressure, asked questions, entered my answers into a tablet and did not once act like my life was actively combusting.
“Last menstrual period?” she asked.
I answered.
“Any dizziness? Bleeding? Severe cramping?”
“No.”
“Any prior pregnancies?”
“No.”
The word landed in the room softly. Prior.
As if this one had already become part of my official history.
Oh God.
She smiled gently. “We’ll do a blood test to confirm but based on the home tests and your dates, it’s likely very early.”
Very early.
That should have made it feel less real. It did not.
Early was still real. Small was still real. A secret was still real even if no one else had heard it spoken alo
