The minute I saw the little pink line, my heart almost jumped out of my chest. A baby...a tiny little life taking charge of my womb for the next 9 months...wow. What a thought! I rarely even entertained the idea of sharing my favourite chocolate...let alone my body! He stood before me with so much love and care shining from his eyes...but he wasn't the daddy. No, the daddy was in another town , lying comfortably in the flat we used to share, totally unaware of his life that was about to be turned upside down.
He (my friend) sat me down on the couch and asked if I wanted something to drink. Clutching a steaming cup of Milo between my shaking hands, all I could think about was that little pink line. A baby...MY baby. Not planned, totally uncalled for, unthinkable if not for the pink line. But MINE.
For three solid hours my mind was numb, my body cold and my mouth shut tight. He guided me to the bathroom without a word, slowly undressed me and carefully lowered me into the bath. Sitting down on the floor next to the tub, he played with the bubbles and waited for me to say something. I watched the bubbles float into the air, then gently fall onto my skin. Carefully, I placed a hand where I imagined that tiny body would be lying, and looked up at him. Then the tears came. First slowly and painfully sliding down my cheeks, then more intense and before I knew it, I was crying my heart out.