Madam President ✓

51. Prenatal

Tanya
Seventeen years and six months ago

  "Damnit." I mutter under my breath, failing to squeeze into the only pair of jeans I own. They fit over everything else just fine, but with my stomach starting to poke out- I can't button them.

  "Ya know- maybe it's time to get some maternity clothes." One of the maids says.

"Jesus- how long were you standing there?" I frown, still trying to convince myself I can get them on if I just suck in.

  "Long enough- stop that you're going to suffocate him." In seconds she's at my side, a hand on my arm, trying to stop me.

  "There isn't going to be a him or her." I shake my head. "I'm .... Getting rid of this thing."

  She sighs.

  "Honey..... you are days away from it being too late for that. The limit in New York is 24 weeks-"

  "I know that!" I yell. "I'm gonna do it. Just not tonight."

  "Okay..." She forces me to look at her. "Tanya- I have given birth to many children, some of which weren't for myself. After..... all of that I'm still pro choice but....  You're reaching the stage where this fetus's life is viable. With every single day that passes... you increase your chance of going in and the ultrasound tech rejecting you from the procedure."

  "So I'll find someone who's not a board certified doctor-"

  "No you won't. You and I both know you're not that stupid. I'm gonna make you two appointments for tomorrow at 4. One for a prenatal checkup- one for an abortion. Which one you show up to is your choice but you will go to one of them if I have to drag you to the limo myself."

  She reaches to my desk for the phone that sits there unused most of the time while I just stare at my side profile. Yes- I even look pregnant now. A stranger might think I was full term and I blame it on the cheesecake cravings that haven't let up in a month. I haven't felt her kick yet, which is something to be concerned about according to the books I've read. A few times I've thought she was moving around- but I wouldn't know what that feels like to begin with so I've dismissed my instincts.

  I keep telling myself I'll get rid of the problem, that I'd be a terrible mother and maybe I'm right- but my mind goes back and forth. I am growing a human being inside of one of my organs- that alone is amazing. Then there's the thought that the fetus could one day be a full blown adult.

  The pro life propaganda has made its way into my subconscious, to the point I hear things like "that child could do great things, maybe even cure cancer" in my dreams.

  There is adoption- but most potential parents prefer to be involved earlier in the pregnancy so it's not too much of a disappointment if a miscarriage happens.

  I sit down on the edge of my bed and slowly wiggle out of my jeans. I stay still for a moment, looking down at my lower stomach and inner thighs. I've already gotten a few stretch marks- some dark purple and others light pink. It wasn't supposed to be like this. When I was younger I told myself I wouldn't be one of the ones whose bodies completely changed in pregnancy- I said I would take care of myself and not be lazy.

  Yet here we are.

  "Alright- the appointments are made."  The maid says as she places my phone back on the hook. "I'm serious. I'll -"

  "Drag you there. Heard ya the first time." I rub my forehead. "Fine. I'll go to prenatal care."

—-
I impatiently tap my foot. I've always hated hospitals- my family has doctors that'll come to our house for everything but surgical procedures and medical emergencies. That combined with one accidentally bursting my ear drum cemented the fear when I was nine years old. Beside me, the maid sits like she's making sure I don't flee.

They said the doctor would be here soon twenty minutes ago- so where the hell is she?

I chew on my lower lip and look around the room to distract myself. This is exactly what they look like in movies: cheesy and informative medical posters everywhere, cabinets that almost scream at you to snoop through them, and medical instruments hanging on the walls.

From the ceiling, a light hangs, so bright I have to squint when I look up. While the rest of it's a sterile environment, there's some sort of stain on the ceiling.

"Water damage." The maid says. "Pretty common in normal people hospitals."

"Oh." I reply. "What about-"

"Sorry for the wait-" the door swings open, and a younger female than I would have expected steps in. "Had a c-section to do. Wasn't planned."

"Don't... don't worry about it." It's been so long since I've been to a hospital I have no idea how this part normally goes. "So? Anything wrong?"

"Not that I can tell." She shakes her head. "All of your labs came back almost perfect. I want you to start focusing on more iron-heavy foods- your levels there are a little low."

"Is that a bad thing?"

"Only if you let it get worse. You also noted that you haven't felt her kick yet?"

"Yes."

"I wouldn't be too concerned about that either-" she shrugs. "Every pregnancy looks so different. However- some more recent studies have shown a correlation between lack of movement in the first and second trimester with early labor. I'd look out for that and not hesitate to call me if anything feels off."

"Okay."

"Most doctors would tell you not to have raw fish or too much coffee- but in my opinion a little of both is okay."

"I don't like fish."

"Alright-" She stands up, signaling the end of our very short conversation. "I think that's it for now. Congratulations."