Chapter 6 - I Learned I Was Pregnant Eleven Days After Darwin Told Me Never to Contact Him Again
The conception window placed Xavier’s beginning during the last month Darwin and I still lived together.
One of our final good nights.
That fact used to make me furious.
Later it simply became:
biology.
The divorce petition had already been filed when my period did not arrive.
I blamed:
stress.
Then nausea.
Stress.
Then one morning I could not tolerate:
coffee.
I bought a test.
Positive.
I sat on the bathroom floor for nearly forty minutes.
Then bought:
three more.
Positive.
Positive.
Positive.
My first thought was not:
joy.
It was:
Darwin.
I called him.
Straight to voicemail.
I left:
“Call me. This is important.”
No response.
Again that evening.
No response.
Then I emailed.
I need to speak with you about a medical issue that concerns both of us. Please call me.
The email delivered.
No answer.
Two days later, a text arrived.
Not about pregnancy.
He did not know.
Sydney, this divorce is already ugly enough. Please communicate through attorneys unless it concerns an actual emergency. I cannot keep doing this.
I stared.
I typed:
I’m pregnant.
Then deleted it.
That was my first choice.
Why?
Humiliation.
Fear.
Anger.
I imagined:
Margaret saying I trapped him.
Darwin demanding proof.
His family questioning dates.
Everyone suddenly wanting the baby after deciding the woman carrying it was:
defective.
I needed confirmation first.
At six weeks and one day, ultrasound:
gestational sac.
At seven weeks:
heartbeat.
Dr. Morris looked almost angry when I told her what happened.
“Your low AMH never meant you could not conceive.”
“I know.”
“Does your husband know?”
“Ex-husband.”
“Does he know?”
“No.”
She did not tell me what to do.
She said:
“You should speak with family counsel.”
I did.
My divorce attorney, Marianne Ellis, was very clear.
“You are not required to remain married because you are pregnant.”
“Obviously.”
“But this materially affects the divorce and future parentage.”
“You need to notify Darwin.”
I said:
“I tried.”
“No.”
Marianne looked at me.
“You tried to reach him generally.”
“That is different from formally notifying him that you are pregnant.”
She recommended:
direct written notice through his attorney.
Parentage acknowledgment after birth if appropriate.
Support and custody addressed formally.
I said:
“I need a few days.”
She nodded.
“Take a few.”
I waited:
two weeks.
Then I wrote a letter.
Not through Marianne.
Myself.
Why?
Part of me still wanted:
personal response.
I mailed it certified to Margaret and Charles’s house because Darwin was staying there.
The tracking showed:
delivered.
Signed:
M. Hale.
Margaret.
I waited.
No call.
Three days.
Five.
Nine.
Finally I called their house.
Margaret answered.
“Sydney.”
“Did Darwin get my letter?”
Pause.
“Yes.”
My entire body went cold.
“What did he say?”
“He said there is nothing to discuss.”
I closed my eyes.
“Did he read it?”
“Yes.”
Another lie.
Then:
“He thinks the timing is convenient.”
I could barely breathe.
“I am carrying his child.”
Margaret’s voice hardened.
“You are carrying a pregnancy.”
“Do not make this into a way back into the family.”
I hung up.
That conversation became the foundation of six years of silence.
And Margaret had lied about almost every important part of it.
But she was not responsible for every year that followed.
May you like
That part was harder.
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