Michelle D. Rayford
excerpt from Moment of Truth
Three months into my marriage and I’ve already
messed up. I wish I could go back in time where I’m not
sitting in an examination room waiting on the doctor to
return and tell me what I already know to be true. Logan
will not be pleased.
Closing my eyes to the harsh glare of fluorescent light,
I shift on the exam table as the paper crinkles beneath me.
I tell myself a missed period can be caused by any
number of things. Now, I cross my arms and wince. My
tender breast aches. I put off this visit for weeks, content
to live in denial.
My stomach churns. I hop off the table, make it to the
small restroom in two strides, and kneel in front of the toilet. I send up a prayer
that my husband will accept this gift and forget about my reluctant agreement.
Logan’s demand to not have children almost doomed our marriage before it
began. I relented to his terms after weighing the option of being left alone. Again.
Marrying a lawyer put me at a disadvantage in arguing this point.
Dr. Taylor taps on the door.
“Be right out,” I yell and flush. At the sink, I glance at my reflection before
washing my hands. I don’t recognize the woman staring back. All confidence is
gone. Get it together. Being pregnant is not a death sentence. My marriage may
end, but I’ve been through worse.
I will my limbs to move and open the door. Dr. Taylor and his nurse are
beaming. He presents the test. The plus sign marked in blue makes me ecstatic
and terrified at the same time.
* * *
I wait until after dinner to tell Logan. Standing in the doorway to the living
room watching Logan fix a glass of rum and coke, I take a deep breath and join
him on the couch.
“I’m pregnant.”
His entire body becomes rigid. The silence makes my heart pound. “How did
that happen?”
Total confusion about human reproduction plays across his handsome features.