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I tried calling Cooper, but to nobody’s surprise, he didn’t answer. He’s on the golf course with my father. Of course he didn’t answer. He couldn’t, and I didn’t expect him to.

It’s not like I was going to tell him over the phone. I just wanted to let him know I passed out again but I’m okay…or something along those lines. Maybe I just wanted to hear his voice to know that everything’s going to be okay.

I’m still sitting in my car staring at the steering wheel even though I got his text back that he couldn’t talk nearly fifteen minutes ago.

I think I’m numb. I’m not crying, but I’m also not smiling. I’m not exactly sure what I’m feeling right now other than just a strange sense of numbness. Maybe my legs are falling asleep from sitting in the same position for so long.

I’m pregnant.

I guess it explains some of my moodiness lately. I got into that fight with Mia yesterday…was this why?

I don’t even know what this means.

It means sleepless nights staring down at rosy cheeks. It means changing diapers and caring for another human. I just helped with Ruby Sue when she was a puppy, but I have a feeling that having a baby is nothing like having a puppy.

It means tough conversations when they get old enough to understand. It means deciding between sleeping in on a Saturday morning or taking the kid to soccer practice. It means learning how to live my life for someone else instead of for myself because I refuse to be anything like my mother was. It means loving somebody with your entire heart and soul, and it means sharing that love with the baby’s father. It means making decisions as a unit and making sacrifices for the ultimate gift in return.

I guess it also means I need to make an appointment with my gynecologist to confirm everything and make sure all’s going okay down there.

I set my hand on my stomach.

How can there be a baby in there that I didn’t know a damn thing about?

I just kept taking my pills, attributing any nausea or change in mood or soreness in my boobs and even a little bit of weight gain to the pill.

I skipped the placebo weeks so I wouldn’t get a period.

I had no idea there was a baby growing inside me.

I’m scared.

What sort of mother doesn’t know she’s pregnant? How could I not know? Am I going to be a terrible mother?

Scared doesn’t really even begin to define what I’m going through. Terrified, actually…yet knowing this is part me and part Cooper sends a single pulse of relief down my spine.

And then I remember that he’ll be gone for pretty much the next three years and I’ll be doing this by myself, so that pulse of relief is kicked out in favor of terror once again.

The reality hasn’t really hit me yet.

I don’t know what all this means other than the fact that I will be tied to Cooper for the rest of my life now. We talked about this as a possibility down the road…but it’s not something either of us are ready for.

But ready or not…a baby is on its way.

I keep teetering between happiness and horror at the thought.

I do the math. If it happened around Christmas, I’ll be due sometime in September. I think. I have no idea how any of this works.

But I’ll finish school. I’ll have my degree, and hopefully I’ll have my job as social media manager—a job someone else gave up because she’s having a baby, I remind myself.

It’s different for me, though. If I’m traveling with the team, that means I’ll be with the baby’s father. We can do more of it together—in theory. He’ll be busy playing and doing whatever it is baseball players do between games, and I’ll be busy working a job and breastfeeding—or bottle feeding? I don’t even know where I stand on that. I don’t know the benefits of one over the other. I don’t know anything , and I think an hour must pass where I stare at my steering wheel as I try to come to grips with this bombshell.

My phone rings and pulls me out of my thoughts, and I see it’s Joanie.

“Hey,” I answer.

“Where are you, girl? Your hair appointment starts now, and Wendy is waiting for you at your dad’s house.”

“I’m so sorry,” I tell her. “I, uh…wasn’t feeling well, so I went to urgent care just to make sure I’m not contagious.”

“Oh no! Are you okay?”

No.

Nope.

I’m definitely not okay.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just some bad chicken, I think.” I lie. I have to. I can’t tell anyone about this before I get the chance to tell Cooper.

And maybe I shouldn’t even mention it to him until I’m absolutely sure about this. I don’t know anything—a due date, or gender, or whatever.

Maybe it was a false positive.

I need to see my doctor and confirm everything, to get all the information possible before I scare the hell out of everyone else, especially since Cooper’s leaving town tomorrow for the next month. I don’t want him worrying about me the whole time he’s gone. In fact, that’s why I haven’t texted him back yet. I don’t know what to say. I don’t even know what made me call him other than the fact that I wanted to hear his voice in my ear.

“Okay. Are you feeling any better?” she asks.

No.

Nope.

Not even a tiny bit.

If anything, I feel a little worse.

“Yeah,” I lie. “I’ll be okay. I’m on my way home now.”

“Be safe and I will see you soon!” She sounds so excited, and I know part of my maid of honor duties will be to share in that joy with her despite all the things weighing heavily on me right now.

So I draw in a deep breath, and I start the car. One step at a time.

I drive toward home, forcing in deep breaths at every stoplight. I guzzle down some water.

I pull into the circular drive, and I take one more deep breath before I force on a happy face. And then I head inside to celebrate my dad’s wedding day as if I didn’t just receive the sort of news that has already turned my entire world upside down.