“You do know that—” The doctor begins, but I don’t want a lecture.

“I just want to know if my baby is okay, doctor. I know all the facts,” I tell him. The cold air of the hospital is sending chills down my spine and inside I’m freaking out. Or maybe it’s the baby. He says he needs to take a look and pulls up my shirt about half way. He seems to be observing my belly and moves the big machine over close to me. He rubs a cold jelly on my belly and then puts the stick on it. He slowly moves it around and doesn’t say anything which makes me worry that I don’t want to hear what he’s going to say.

“How long did you say you were pregnant?” he asks again. I think back to the man from a few weeks ago and flashback to the horror and remember.

“About 3 or 4 weeks,” I say, my eyes closed trying to forget the memory.

“Ma’am, it seems as though you aren’t a few weeks pregnant, you’re about a month and a half pregnant.”