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The last time I had my annual appointment here was nearly ten months ago.

Ten months ago, I could never have predicted the roller coaster that would’ve brought me to this moment.

I sit in the parking lot for a beat as I stare at the building. It’s a little surreal being here for an exam to see how far along my pregnancy is. To see whether the baby is healthy in there. To see whether I’m really pregnant.

I’ve had a lot of time by myself to think over the last couple days, and I’ve come to a few conclusions. The first, and maybe the most important, is that it doesn’t matter what happened between Cooper and me. It doesn’t matter that I’m alone. What matters above all else is this baby.

Ten months ago, I never would have imagined I’d be pregnant, or that I would’ve met the love of my life only to lose him because of the father I so desperately wanted in my life, or that I’d want this baby with the type of intensity I didn’t know I could feel.

It feels like she is all that matters.

I’m calling her a she in my own mind for now because I have this gut instinct that Cooper and I created a little girl out of the love we shared. It’s a love we’ll always have for one another—or, at least, it’s a love I’ll always have for him. I can’t speak for him or his feelings, obviously. It’s a love that will never dim even though love isn’t enough for the two of us to make it work.

I force the threat of tears away as I hang onto that last thought.

I wish I could find a way to get him back without using the baby he doesn’t even know about. I’m terrified that I’ll tell him about her, and he’ll want to get back together for her sake, and it’ll be all wrong. I want him to want me for me , not because of the idyllic family picture he always painted in his mind.

I want to fight for him, but I don’t even know how. He made his choice, and he picked the game. He picked pleasing my father. He picked essentially everything else over me while he pretended like he was only acting in my best interest.

I hate it. I hate where we left things, and I hate that he knew what my biggest fears were and he did what he did anyway.

He wants kids.

I can give him that. I will give him that. But he also wants a family, and after the way he ended things, I just don’t see how that will ever be a possibility for us.

I head inside, and I check in for my appointment. She asks me to leave a sample, and this time I know what that means.

I wait to hear my name, and then I’m taken back to a small room with a table for me to sit on, a computer, and a large screen on the wall.

“I’m Juliette, and I’ll be your ultrasound tech today. Since we’re not sure of the timeline, I’m going to do a transvaginal exam, which means I need you to take off your pants and underwear. I’ll insert a probe that will allow us to take a look around and see what’s going on. I’ll give the results to your doctor, who will explain everything in detail to you. Sound okay?”

I nod, and for the first time I really wish I wasn’t here alone.

But who would I have brought with me?

Even if Cooper and I were still together, he’d be in Arizona. I’m not talking to Mia. My dad is out of town, and Joanie seems like she’s not an option right now. I wouldn’t even consider asking my mother. I haven’t spoken to my other friends in months thanks to spending my time working or naked with Cooper, and I don’t think Justin and I have a see each other naked type of friendship.

So it really is just me and the baby.

Juliette shoves a long, freezing cold stick up my hoo-ha, and the screen shows what seems to be my uterus. There’s some fuzzy stuff, and she moves it all around to get a better view.

“There’s baby,” she announces, and I see what looks like a pinto bean with one side a little bigger than the other.

She uses a little dot on the screen as she talks. “There’s the head,” she says, and she moves the dot along the baby. “Body, arms, legs. I’m just going to take some quick measurements.”

As I watch, I hear a whooshing sound on the monitor.

“What’s that?” I ask.

“It’s your baby’s heartbeat.”

Tears fill my eyes.

Holy shit.

It’s real.

A little baby with a head and arms and legs and a heartbeat is growing inside me.

I listen to the whoosh-whoosh sound, and Juliette says, “Heartbeat is one-fifty-one, perfectly normal.” She studies the screen some more, and then she says, “You’re measuring right about nine weeks. Does that sound right?”

My mind is blank on what the date even is, let alone when nine weeks ago might have been.

“The week before Christmas,” she clarifies.

Right. That’s right around when I got over that awful virus and Cooper came over and ravaged me beneath the Christmas tree in my bedroom.

I open my mouth to say something, but instead of words, a soft little sob escapes. I force myself to pull it together. It’s not on this poor ultrasound tech to comfort me.

But she does it anyway.

“It’s an emotional time, being pregnant,” she says quietly. “Between hormones and being a first-time mom, you’ll feel everything more intensely than you normally would. It’s totally normal.” She offers a smile, and I feel a little better.

Maybe once I have the baby, the intense feelings I’m having about the end of Cooper and me won’t feel so intense.

It’s a nice sentiment to hold onto, but even I’m not na?ve enough to believe it.