It's not a baby!

Sunday morning confirmed my suspicions that I am indeed not pregnant. It swept upon me with such a sudden fury that I tried to figure out what I had done in the past to warrant this kind of pain. Scott got up to smoke and turned the living room TV on while I showered. I was sniffling while I brushed my teeth and by the time Scott came to inspect the sniffling, I was crawling back into bed.

I began to sob. Body-racking sobs. It just hurt too much. Scott jumped back in alarm. Besides a wayward tear, he's never seen me lose it. Not even when I wrecked my motorbike. He hovered over me and covered me up, "Baby, don't cry. Please don't cry," he pleaded. His voice was so worried and high-pitched that I stopped sobbing just long enough to see if he was about to cry as well.

"Does it normally hurt like this?"

"No," I thought my body handled the Plan B so well, but now I could check off every one of the side effects.

"This is all my fault," he crooned.

Scott went into the kitchen and returned with a glass of water and enough Advil that I actually thought they were M&Ms. I took four and he helped me out of my clothes and back into some PJs. I got so dizzy I fell and he caught me and helped me to the couch. On the couch I laid my head in his lap while he stroked my hair.

"Baby, I have to go to work now," he said after about 20 minutes. I nodded. "But if you need anything--anything--just call me. Okay?"

I began throwing up shortly thereafter. I didn't bother calling him. He's hourly and if he left to help me, it would actually cost him money. I wasn't going to do that to him.

I was supporting myself on the kitchen counter when Scott used his key and came back into my apartment. "I couldn't leave you like this. I called out to work. Here, I went to the local bakery and got you breakfast." I turned around and he held a coffee cup and a cinnamon bun. I wanted so much to tell him I loved him in that moment.

Last week Mez wrote about What Women Want and in the very short and reasonable list was "To be looked after when we're sick." In her comments section I actually stated that was the one thing I wanted the most and now he's standing in my kitchen with a cinnamon bun. I felt like I had everything on that list.

He gathered me up and put me back on the couch. He flipped through the channels and settled on A.I. Underworld came on next, but my lack of interest put me back into my bedroom to lie down. Scott followed me and climbed in, spooning me. We napped.

I woke up to ESPN. Scott had just sat down on the couch and his hair was all disheveled from sleeping. I popped more pills and climbed in his lap while he watched NASCAR. I'm not a fan of racing, but he was spending his afternoon with me and fielding calls from his bosses. He rubbed my back without me asking.

Only my mother has taken care of me like that. This morning I got up and fished my cinnamon bun out of the fridge and poured myself a glass of iced tea. I walked to where Scott was still sleeping on the couch (he never made it to bed) and I unwrapped one of his arms and put it around me.

"Morning sunshine," I murmured into his temple and kissed his hairline.

"How are you feeling," he mumbled.

"I feel good. It's 8 o'clock and I'm heading to work. Thank you so much for yesterday, it really meant a lot to me."

"I was happy to do it."

I brushed his hair back, kissed his flushed face, and left the sleeping boy on my couch.