By Melissa Senate
Among the truth of being six weeks pregnant by way of a man she's dated for 2 months and the fable of pushing a child stroller down Columbus road with a marriage ring on her finger have been loads of chances for twenty-nine-year previous big apple publishing peon Sarah Solomon. Will the baby's father run screaming for the closest subway ...or pop the query?
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Additional info for The Solomon Sisters Wise Up (Red Dress Ink)
And stabbed his spinach salad and sipped his champagne and grimaced at the escargots I thought I had a craving for but now couldn’t bear the smell of, I wasn’t quite ready to change his entire life. Which was exactly what one quarter-inch, horizontal pink line on the stick of a home pregnancy test did to me four mornings ago in a bathroom stall at work on an ordinary October Monday. Before that pink line, I was the usual me, fretting over whether my story ideas for Wow Woman magazine—where I was a junior editor—were good enough for the weekly staff meeting and my boss’s overplucked eyebrow, which rose whenever she liked an idea, as though she couldn’t believe a member of the underappreciated junior editorial staff had thought of it.
Ally, you can’t get desperate,” my gynecologist had said. “You have to relax to make a baby. ” I was desperate. And desperate was exactly how I felt when I finally pulled in to my driveway at six-thirty. The path to the house was pitch-dark, and I almost tripped on a branch that had fallen during Wednesday’s near-monsoon. I craned my neck around the huge oak tree in the front yard to see if Tara and Allison were home, but the lights were out at their house. Allison had outgrown her colic but was now beginning to teethe, and I’d picked up a cute teething ring for her in the drugstore when I’d been restocking my supply of Tums.
Is she an OB too? Do you feel pregnant? ” Those were my sister Ally’s rush of questions, which followed a long silence when I told her the news at three o’clock this morning. I hadn’t meant to call Ally, hadn’t meant to tell her at all, at least not right away, not before I had a handle on it myself. But after tossing and turning for hours last night, with Griffen’s potential reactions getting scarier and scarier, I’d grabbed the phone and sobbed into it. After two hours, Ally had gotten me to stop crying and extracted a promise to call her the minute I decided what I was going to do.