Then coffee made me sick.
I took three tests before work.
I stayed on birth control.
They were all positive.
I sat on the bathroom floor for almost an hour.
Not because I was unhappy.
But because I'd spent 10 years teaching myself not to want this too much.
That night, Christopher found me in the living room with the test in my hand.
"Marie?"
They were all positive.
"I'm pregnant."
He stared at me.
"I know we didn't plan this," I said quickly. "I missed my pills. I'm sorry."
I expected anger. Instead, his face opened into the kind of smile I hadn't seen from him in years.
"We're having a baby?"
"You're not mad?"
"Mad?" He pulled me into his arms. "This is incredible."
"I missed my pills. I'm sorry."
I pulled back. "You said a baby would ruin everything."
"I was wrong." He touched my stomach with both hands. "This baby is going to change everything."
For a while, I let myself believe him.
Christopher bought ginger tea and pregnancy books. He asked about names and touched my stomach every morning.
"This baby is going to change everything," he kept saying.
"This baby is going to change everything."
At first, it made me cry. Then it made me listen closer.
He never said, "I can't wait to be a dad."
He said, "This baby is a blessing for the whole family."
The first time, I let it go.
The second time, I asked, "What does that mean?"
He was buttoning his shirt in front of the mirror.
"I can't wait to be a dad."
"It means everyone will be happy."
"Everyone?"
He looked down at his cuff. "Holly has been through a lot."
My stomach pulled tight.
Holly was Christopher's older sister. She and Nathan had tried for years, including one adoption that fell apart so late that his family stopped saying the word "baby."
I felt for her.
"Holly has been through a lot."
But feeling sorry for Holly didn't make my pregnancy hers.
"What does Holly have to do with this?" I asked.
