I ran back into my bathroom to grab it out of the cupboard over the back of the closet when I saw it sitting there. I picked it up intending to just throw it away, I was convinced it was negative, when I glanced at it quickly. Then again. And again. Positive. Great, of course I buy a broken one!
Ugh, good thing it came in a two pack. No way was I pregnant. Not possible. Nope. Broken test.
A quick trip to the store and five tests later found me sitting on the bathroom floor trying to remember how to walk.
After awhile I finally pulled myself up off the floor, grabbed one of the tests, hopped in my car and drove down the street to my best girlfriend, Jessica's, house. Her Dad answered the door and said she was sleeping, so being the considerate person that I am, I pushed right past him, bust into her room, jumped on her bed/her and handed her the test without saying anything. Keep in mind, no crying yet. This wasn't real. This wasn't happening. Jessica cried for me. Cried and assured me things were going to be okay.
I had plans to hang out with Ryan that night so I finally went home, pulled myself together and waited for him to come pick me up. From the minute he got there Ryan knew something was wrong, but I wasn't ready to say anything just yet. We met up with his roommates and had dinner, then headed back to their place to hang out.
Ryan and I ended up in the living room alone and he tried to get me to tell him what was wrong. I finally broke down and told him I was pregnant. I was pregnant. I said it out loud. For the first time. I'm pregnant.
He didn't say anything. He just wrapped me up in his arms, kissed me on the head, and told me he would be there for me every step of the way. I finally let the tears go, and they came. And came, and came. After I'd soaked his shirt, and gone through a thousand tissues he looks at me and says, 'I want to kill the jerk that did this to you'.
My hear sank. He didn't get it.
'Ryan, you're the father.'