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" &amp;quot;You look a little puffy,&amp;quot; my mom said, touching my face. That&amp;#039;s how the beginning of my new life started. &amp;quot;Puffy?&amp;quot; &amp;quot;Yeah,&amp;quot; she said, &amp;quot;Have you been crying?&amp;quot; The truth is, things weren&amp;#039;t going well.\u00A0I didn&amp;#039;t tell my mom that my boyfriend\u00A0and I broke up again. I didn&amp;#039;t tell her that I&amp;#039;d been using drugs again, off and on. And I didn&amp;#039;t tell her that it was nearly impossible for me to get out of bed that morning, that my will to live had been waning. &amp;quot;No, I&amp;#039;m just PMS-y. My period is a couple of days late.&amp;quot; &amp;quot;Is there a chance you could be pregnant?&amp;quot; she asked. I told her no, but the truth was I wasn&amp;#039;t sure.\u00A0I&amp;#039;d gone off the pill again and the last time I went off the pill I got pregnant\u2013only to miscarry.\u00A0 I silently cursed myself for my blatant irresponsibility. Tuning out of the conversation, I sat there, scanning the memory files in my head for the exact date of my last period. I excused myself to go to the bathroom, where I was hoping\u00A0I&amp;#039;d see signs of my period. There was no such luck. I looked in the mirror while I washed my hands. I do look a little puffy. My short dark hair framed my swollen face, I had bags under my eyes, and my pale olive skin was looking a little greenish. Returning to the table, my mom paused as she watched me approach the table. &amp;quot;Erin, your breasts look huge.&amp;quot; This is something I never heard. I looked down at my chest as I sat down. My boobs are puffy too. The next thing I knew, we were\u00A0pulling into the parking lot of a Rite-Aid to get a pregnancy test. Shortly after, I found myself inside the ladies room at Nordstrom&amp;#039;s. We were the only ones in there. My mother waited impatiently outside the bathroom stall. &amp;quot;Did, you do it?&amp;quot; &amp;quot;Mom, stop talking....&amp;quot; I laid the test down on a piece of toilet paper on top of the metal case for the rolls. I had a bad metallic taste in my mouth. The taste was familiar. I had it the last time I was pregnant\u2013like I&amp;#039;d been sucking on pennies. &amp;quot;Well?&amp;quot; my mom asked. I picked up the test. There were two lines. &amp;quot;Mom,&amp;quot; I burst out of the stall, shaking, and showed her the test. &amp;quot;Oh my God! Oh my God! I&amp;#039;m so excited,&amp;quot; she said, grabbing me by the shoulders. &amp;quot;I need to sit down,&amp;quot; I said, acutely aware of the black splotches in front of my eyes, indicating I was about to faint. Later that night, I called my ex-boyfriend and told him the news. He was silent. Over the next couple of weeks\u00A0we spent time together, which mostly amounted to figuring out whether or not I was going to have the baby, whether or not I could stay off drugs successfully, and what this all meant for our relationship. I was 28 years old, but I felt like a lost teenager\u2013knocked up, dazed, in way over my head. In my heart, I knew I had to keep this baby, despite feeling like the least maternal person in the world. I told my partner that I had made up my mind, I was having the baby. Later that night, he and I were en route to dinner at the home of a family friend, where my parents would be. As we drove up a canyon in a suburb of Los Angeles,\u00A0the father of my child shouted at me to pull over. He got out of the car, came around to the driver&amp;#039;s side, and motioned for me to roll the window down. There was a horse stable nearby and it smelled awful. He asked me to marry him. &amp;quot;You don&amp;#039;t have to do this,&amp;quot; I said. &amp;quot;I know.&amp;quot; &amp;quot;I don&amp;#039;t think it&amp;#039;s a good idea.&amp;quot; &amp;quot;Could we give it a try?&amp;quot; I agreed. We drove the rest of the way silently up the hill. When we arrived, I blurted out to my parents, &amp;quot;I guess we&amp;#039;re gonna get married.&amp;quot; Both of us had doubts about each other every step of the way. We had both lied to each other\u2013me about drugs, he about the other women in his life. But, we gave it a try. Even on our wedding day, we knew our marriage was not meant for this world.\u00A0 Ultimately the marriage didn&amp;#039;t last. It just didn&amp;#039;t work. However, we got the greatest gift of all: our son. And to everyone&amp;#039;s surprise, I did stay off drugs. While we have had our ups and downs co-parenting, the love we have for our son is the one thing we can always agree on. It&amp;#039;s been more than 13 years since that afternoon in the bathroom, with so much uncertainty before me. At the time, it seemed horrifying\u2013all of it\u2013the way I found out, the state I was in with my relationship\u00A0and my life at the time. But I wouldn&amp;#039;t change a thing.\u00A0 Except for that whole reconciliation and getting married to the ex thing. In the end, so many years later, I am happier than I have ever been, married to a new guy for the right reasons and the mother of a 12-year-old son who is an amazing person. \u00A0 When I look back on that afternoon, shaking in a bathroom stall with a pregnancy test in my hand, I can laugh a little at the absurdity of it all and the wonderful things that came as a result. "^^<http://www.w3.org/2001/XMLSchema#string>
<http://www.redbookmag.com/life/mom-kids/a43941/i-found-out-i-was-pregnant-drugs/>