Abby
Two lines.
My hands shake as I stare down at the test in my hands. Two lines—pregnant. No, more than two lines, if you count the other two tests I’ve taken. Six lines; three positive results.
“I just don’t believe it,” I whisper, my eyes misted over with tears. “I… I…”
My voice trails off, or rather, gets caught in my throat. Three pregnancy tests, and I still don’t fully believe it. It’s as if I spent so many years thinking that it was borderline impossible to conceive that even now, as I’m staring down at all of the positive results, part of me thinks it must be some kind of fluke.
But it’s not. Everything makes sense; the nausea, the mood swings, and now the positive tests.
I’m pregnant. I’m really, truly pregnant.
With Karl’s baby.
I don’t hesitate
