Fragile

The doctor’s office was intimidating. Women, along with a few girls younger than I am, filled up at least half of the waiting room. They all seemed excited about their big bellies. I tried keeping a smile on my face as I rubbed my belly every so often. My mother wasn’t able to see the disappointment if I was smiling.

After about a half hour of waiting and watching women and girls going in and out of the office, they finally called my name.

“Isabella Kent,” the receptionist called. My mother grabbed her purse and stood up with me to walk over to the young red-haired receptionist. She was also sporting quite a large belly. “Dr. Warner will see you now.”

My mother thanked her and we walked back towards the office. The hallway seemed as long as the hallway in The Shining. I followed mom back around a corner and into a small office where Dr. Warner was sitting behind her desk, ruffling through a file.

“Oh,” Dr. Warner said as she looked up and saw us walk in. “You must be Isabella.” She stood up and walked around her desk to greet me with a handshake.

“Hi,” I greeted her and shook her hand.

“You have grown up so much,” she said and then hugged my mother. “She’s absolutely gorgeous.”

“Oh, thank you,” my mother said.

“This must be weird,” Dr. Warner said. “Your mother was a patient here when I was in my first year of working here. I was her doctor.”

How coincidental.

“Oh, wow. Well, nice to meet you, then. I feel like I’ve known you my whole life,” I joked.

“Well, I guess that’s true, huh?” She laughed and guided us towards the exam room. “I’ll be with you two in a minute. Isabella, why don’t you change into this robe and I’ll be right back.”

She pointed to the pink robe that was draped over the seat in the middle of the room. It seemed intimidating, looking at the table in the middle of the exam room. I grabbed the robe and changed in the bathroom that was in the exam room. The robe felt revealing to me and felt like it was a night gown, but I never wore anything less than a t-shirt and shorts to bed so this was new to me. I walked out and sat in the chair, or whatever it was, and waited with my mother for the doctor.

“Ready?” Dr. Warner asked as she entered the room. I nodded my head and she rolled a chair over to me. Before she was about to explain what she was going to do, my mother spoke up.

“Isabella, are you okay with me being in the room? I can wait outside, if you’d like.”

“Would you?” I looked at her innocently. It had been years since she had seen anything that was going on below my belt. I didn’t feel comfortable with her in the room.

“No problem, honey. I’ll be in the waiting room,” she patted my arm and walked out of the room, closing the door behind her.

“Okay,” Dr. Warner started. “Just so you know, whatever you say to me will not get back to your mother at all, unless you decide to tell her yourself.”

“Good to know,” I replied and place my legs up on the stirrups.

Uncomfortable was not even the word that I would have used to describe what Dr. Warner had done during my time in the exam room; not only physically, but also emotionally. It made me feel like I was powerless; like how I felt the night it had happened. It didn’t take very long, and soon enough Dr. Warner was pulling off her gloves and washing her hands. She allowed me to get dressed in my own clothes before having me sit down to talk with her.

“I have a few questions, if you don’t mind me asking any,” she said and sat back down in her chair again.

“Sure,” I said and crossed my legs painfully; not a great idea.

“In my experience, I’ve started to know the difference between—how do I put this lightly?—entrances, if you understand what I mean by that.”

I must have looked uneasy, because she continued to speak cautiously.

“I’m not saying you need to tell me what happened but if you’re hiding something as serious as I think it might be, you need to tell your mother if you haven’t told her already.”

Tell my mother what actually happened? I wasn’t sure if I had the guts to say anything to her. I looked at Dr. Warner and sighed heavily.

“I can’t tell her,” I said in a low voice.

“Isabella, I’ve known many girls who have been in your shoes before. It’s not easy, but you’ll feel as if a burden has been lifted off your shoulders. You’ve probably been keeping this a secret the past few months, haven’t you?”

The biting of my lip made Dr. Warner nod her head, knowing what my answer was without having to say it.

“Then you should tell your mother,” she insisted. “I’ll go get her for an ultrasound so she can see her grandbaby, and I’ll leave for you two to talk.”

My hands started to shake, but I nodded in agreement after a few moments of silence between the two of us. She disappeared from the room and returned with my mother. They were chatting as they came back in, but I couldn’t pin point the exact words they were saying. The next thing I knew, Dr. Warner had pulled my shirt above my belly to start the ultrasound. The coldness of the gel didn’t even startle me.

“Everything looks great,” Dr. Warner smiled. “It was lovely meeting you Isabella and I’ll be seeing you in one month for another checkup. Here are a few tissues to clean up, and I’ll see you next month.”

I grabbed the tissues and wiped the cold gel from my belly. Dr. Warner had left and it was just my mother and I. She was looking at the sonogram with a large smile on her face, and then looked over to me. She was about to speak, but I interrupted her thoughts.

“Mom, I need to tell you something,” I started and bit my tongue, wondering how I was going to tell her.

“Sure, honey,” she said and sat down in the chair that Dr. Warner had been sitting in. “What is it?”

“Um, okay,” I breathed deeply. “I, uh…this isn’t John’s baby,” I said slowly.

My mother stared at me with a confused look on her face.

“Not John’s?” She asked. “I—I don’t understand.”

“This isn’t John’s baby, mom,” I drew in a deep breath before continuing. “I don’t know whose baby it is. This wasn’t a planned pregnancy, planned sex, or even unplanned. I don’t know; I just don’t know.” I felt as if I were rambling.

She placed her hand on top of mine to calm me down, and it worked slightly.

“It was late one night and I was walking to the store for some printer paper, and the only thing I could remember was walking back from the store and waking up in an alley around two in the morning. My clothes were torn and there was blood,” I stopped, as I had begun to start crying.

I didn’t have to say exactly what happened for her to know what took place that night. My mother went into action and sat next to me on the bed, holding me like she had the night before. This was what I needed; a chance to let out my feeling about what happened, and it was a relief.