Chapter 34 #34
Chapter 34
~Shailyn~
I woke up again repeating the same cycle it has been the entire night.
After sleeping for a bit, maybe an hour or two, I woke up feeling strange. My stomach was churning uncomfortably, and there was a sour taste in my mouth that made me grimace.
I tried to ignore it, tried to settle back into sleep, but the nausea only got worse.
I wasn't able to sleep all night. I've been in and out of the restroom to vomit, my body rejecting everything I'd eaten that day. The ice cream. The croissant. Everything came back up, leaving me weak and shaking.
Dante was there every time, holding my hair back from my face, rubbing soothing circles on my back, murmuring words of comfort that I could barely hear over the sound of my own retching.
"It's okay, baby," he kept saying. "Just get it all out. I've got you."
By the fifth trip to the bathroom, I was exhausted, my throat raw, my stomach aching from the constant heaving. I slumped against the cool tile of the bathroom floor, too weak to even make it back to bed.
"I think it was food poisoning," I mumbled, my voice hoarse. "Maybe the ice cream was bad. Or the croissant. Something I ate must have been spoiled."
But Dante shook his head, his expression serious. "I ate the ice cream too, and I feel fine. And that croissant was fresh from the food truck. I don't think it's food poisoning, Shailyn."
"Then what?" I asked weakly.
"I think we need to go to a doctor," he said firmly. "Right now. This isn't normal."
"It's the middle of the night"
"I don't care," he insisted. "Something's wrong, and I'm not taking any chances with your health. Get dressed. We're going to the hospital."
"Dante, it's probably nothing…"
"It might be something else," he said, helping me to my feet. "And given what that old woman said earlier... we need to know for sure."
But I've had so many hospital encounters lately and nothing of such was mentioned. I thought
The implication hung heavy in the air between us.
Pregnant. She'd said I was pregnant.
And now I was vomiting uncontrollably in the middle of the night.
"Okay," I said quietly. "Okay, let's go."
\---
The hospital, Kington General was surprisingly busy for three in the morning. We checked in, and after what felt like an eternity in the waiting room, a nurse finally called my name.
They took my vitals, asked a series of questions about my symptoms, and drew several vials of blood. Then we were moved to a small examination room to wait for the doctor.
We got to the doctor after performing necessary tests and examinations. Blood work. Urine sample. Questions about my medical history, my recent hospital stay, my current symptoms.
Dr. Martinez, the same doctor who'd been treating my mother, walked in with a chart in his hands and a smile on his face that made my heart start racing.
"Well, Mr. and Mrs. Belmar," he said, his eyes moving between us. "I have your test results."
"And?" Dante asked, leaning forward in his chair, his hand finding mine and squeezing tight.
Dr. Martinez's smile widened. "Congratulations. You're six weeks pregnant."
The words hit me like a physical blow.
Six weeks.
Pregnant.
I was pregnant.
"What?" The word came out as barely a whisper.
"You're approximately six weeks along," Dr. Martinez repeated, consulting his chart. "Based on your hormone levels and the date of your last menstrual period."
"But... but how?" I stammered. "How did nobody catch this when I was in the hospital? I was there for days. They ran all kinds of tests."
"Early pregnancy can be easy to miss," the doctor explained. "Especially when we're focused on treating acute trauma like your head injury. The hormone levels at that stage would have been very low, possibly below the threshold that would flag on standard blood work. And given your amnesia and the head trauma, pregnancy testing wasn't necessarily at the forefront of our diagnostic priorities."
I couldn't breathe. The room felt like it was closing in on me.
Six weeks pregnant.
Which meant I got pregnant right before or right after my accident. Right around the time when I couldn't remember anything. Right around the time when my entire life was a blank space in my memory.
"This is amazing," Dante said, his voice filled with joy. He turned to me, his eyes shining. "Shailyn, we're having a baby. We're going to be parents."
A baby?
Pregnant? Oh my God.
The word kept repeating in my head like a mantra, like if I thought it enough times it would finally feel real. But it didn't. It felt like something happening to someone else, like I was watching a movie of my own life instead of actually living it.
Dante, on the other hand, was over the moon. The moment we left Dr. Martinez's office, he practically exploded with joy. He kissed my whole face, peppering kisses on my forehead, my cheeks, my nose, my lips, my chin, anywhere he could reach while we stood in the hospital parking lot at four in the morning.
"We're having a baby," he kept saying, his voice filled with wonder. "Shailyn, we're having a baby. This is the best news. The absolute best news."
It was like he won a lottery, the way he was acting. His entire demeanor had transformed from the stressed, exhausted man who'd been complaining about his work project just hours ago to someone who looked like all his problems had suddenly been solved.
I was still in a state of shock though, my mind struggling to catch up with this new reality. Six weeks pregnant. I was six weeks pregnant with a baby I hadn't even known existed until an hour ago.
But my hand went to my stomach, resting there gently, protectively. My little bean. That's what the doctor had called it when he'd shown us the ultrasound image, a tiny blob on the screen that barely looked like anything at all but was apparently a whole human being in the making.
My little bean.
I felt teary suddenly, emotion overwhelming me all at once. And surprisingly, underneath the shock and confusion, I was happy. Genuinely happy. This was my baby. Mine and Dante's. A little life growing inside me, a perfect combination of both of us.
"Are you okay?" Dante asked, noticing my tears. His hands came to frame my face, his thumbs gently wiping away the moisture. "Baby, talk to me. What are you feeling?"
"I don't know," I admitted, my voice cracking. "Happy? Scared? Overwhelmed? All of it at once?"
"That's normal," he assured me, pulling me into a hug. "This is huge news. It's okay to feel all the feelings."
"I just... I can't believe it," I whispered against his chest. "I'm going to be a mom."
"And I'm going to be a dad," Dante said, his voice thick with emotion. "We're going to be parents, Shailyn. We're going to have a family."
The doctor gave me instructions before we left: prenatal vitamins, plenty of rest, avoid stress, schedule a follow-up appointment in two weeks, watch for any bleeding or severe cramping. He also explained that my recent head injury meant I needed to be extra careful, that I should avoid any situations that might cause falls or additional trauma.
From there we went home, Dante driving carefully, one hand on the wheel and the other holding mine, his thumb tracing gentle circles on my palm.