One month later

Me and Michael have been trying for a baby for a month now. It's getting a little tedious.

I'm lying, it's not.

I love the overdose of "medication" I've been receiving from Michael.

But what I don't love, however, is the fact that Michael said "If it doesn't work in a month or two, we'll just go for adoption."

I'm gonna be blatantly honest; I would much rather have a child of my own, simply because it's biological.

Nevertheless, I would still love an adopted child just the same.

We tried again last night, and it was amazing, I won't lie.

But with Michael's low sperm count, it's a little less fun, knowing we most likely won't have a child at the end of it.

And if we do, it'll be a miracle.

I'm due to take a pregnancy test today, for the "medication" we.. indulged in, a few weeks back.

I'm not gonna bother trying a test for yesterday's instalment, cos it won't show this soon, everyone knows that.

"Baby, whatever it says, I'll support you no matter what," Michael says.

He's said that every single time I've taken a test so far.

"I know," I reply.

Michael has tears in his eyes.

"Michael," I whisper, drying his tears away with my sleeve. "Why are you crying?"

"I'm just sorry," he tells me, looking down sadly.

"Sorry for what?" I ask.

"Just for being me.."

I sit opposite him, and cup his face in my hands.

"If everyone was you, the world would be a better place," I say.

I kiss his nose, and he smiles childishly.

He's so cute.

"Sweetheart, I think you're mistaking me for you," he says.

"Nope, definitely not," I say softly. "Anyway, I'm gonna go take this test."

"Don't look at the result until I'm with you," Michael says. "Good luck, sweetheart."

I smile at him, and head into the bathroom.

I take the test, and cover the result with my hand.

How much do I want this to be positive?

I walk slowly into the living room, where Michael is.

I sit down by his side, and he places his arm around me.

"Now, just remember that whatever the result is, it will not stop me loving you, and I'll be supportive," he tells me.

I smile faintly, and slowly uncover the test.

My smile turns to a frown.

"Negative.." I say sadly, tears in my eyes.

"It's ok, don't worry," Michael assures me, taking me into his embrace.

"You don't understand how much I want a child," I mutter, my voice breaking slightly.

"We'll have one, no matter what, ok? Remember, we can adopt a child."

"I know," I reply. "But it's not the same as a bioligical child. You know that."

"Of course it's not the same, but it's better than no child, right?"

"Of course, but.. that joy of knowing you're gonna have a child of your very own is just.. it's indescribable, Michael. Knowing I was pregnant with Alex's baby was the best feeling in the world.. but when he took that away from me, my world collapsed. It took you to save me from losing my mind."

Michael kisses my temple. "And I understand, cos I've been there. Not in the way that I've had a child, but in the way that.. well, you know. I've explained it countless times."

"I'm sorry," I say quietly.

"Why are you sorry?" Michael asks. "It's my fault I have a low sperm count, not yours."

"Well, it's not your fault either, Michael," I say. "Mother Nature can be a bully at times. I should know. The cramps I get on a monthly basis indicates that."

"Alright, alright," Michael chuckles, obviously finding what I just said amusing. "I understand."

"Well, it just goes to show how much of a bully she is," I smile, finding it cute how he laughed at my comment.

"So, we'll try the test for last night's.. uh.. "medication" in a few weeks, ok?" Michael says.

I nod in agreement. "Of course. I just want this so badly, it's unbelievable."

--

It's June 12th, 1992.

It's been at least four weeks since I last took a test now.

There have been a lot of things in my mind lately.

Like, if I do get pregnant, will the fact that I've miscarried before, effect it?

Like, if the next test comes up positive, could I miscarry again?

Like, if I'm expecting a child, will something get in the way and ruin the excitement for me and Michael?

All these "ifs", but I'm forgetting one thing.

I'm probably not even pregnant, and probably never will be.

And, as much as having an adopted child would be wonderful, it would hurt never to have my own child.

I'm sitting on the sofa by myself, cos Michael's at work.

Being a doctor to someone who isn't me, for once.

Giving medication to people that aren't me, for once.

It makes me laugh to know that our code word for.. well, "intimate goings-on," shall we say, is "medication".

I mean, who even thought that up? Me or Michael?

Neither of us like using the actual word, so we keep it polite.

The funny thing is, we love the "medication" itself, but we can't even call it by its proper name, cos we don't like the proper name.

I'm watching Fresh Prince Of Bel-Air. It's fairly new, this series. I do enjoy it a lot.

I love the theme tune, seriously. I always sing it when it comes on. And when I say every word without screwing up, I feel like some sort of verbal ninja.

Something in me is bugging me. Like, something in my soul is trying to tell me something.

I can feel it and tell.

I look to my left, and see the kitchen.

I stand up slowly, and walk into the kitchen, and sit at the table.

I leave Fresh Prince playing on the TV, as I really can't be bothered to turn it off.

Tomorrow is a year since me and Michael first met in the doctor's room.

A year since I found out I was pregnant with Alex's baby.

My, how much can change in a year. It's strange.

A year since I found out I was expecting Alex's baby..

A year ago, me and Alex told the story of how our "perfect life" would pan out, and he suggested we go on a picnic the next day.

The last night that everything was normal.

Then, the day after, morning sickness brought me to where I am today.

I can still remember it clearly, throwing up so badly that Alex forced me to the doctors to get it checked out.

Meeting Dr. Jackson for the first time, and him suggesting I take a pregnancy test.

It coming up as "positive" and rushing back to Dr. Jackson.

"What were the results, Becky?" he asked me.

"I-I really am pregnant," I stated, in shock.

"Congratulations. Maybe you should go tell the father," he told me, and I nodded and left swiftly.

"What was wrong, baby?" Alex asked me as I emerged from the corridor.

I remember showing him the test, and his eyes lighting up. "You're pregnant?"

"Yes. We're gonna have our perfect lives," I said happily.

He lifted me into the air, and assured me that our "perfect lives" would start right then and there.

I shake my head, to clear my head from those memories.

Thinking about my miscarried child makes me sad.

But now I think I know what that feeling in my soul was tryna indicate.

I take a deep breath, and head upstairs slowly.

I enter the bathroom, and take one of the spare pregnancy tests from the shelf.

Me and Michael indulged in some "medication" a few weeks back, which I never tested for.

I don't care if Michael is here or not; if it comes up positive, I'll tell him in the most special way I can.

But it won't happen, so I'll just act as if I never took the test.

I take the test, and close my eyes as I cover the result with my shaky hand.

I'm preparing myself mentally, for the "negative" result to come.

Why am I even doing this? It's pointless.

"Whatever the result is, I must accept it. Becky, you must not get upset at the "negative" result, ok?" I tell myself.

I open my eyes, and look at my hand, which is still covering the test.

I remove my hand from the test.

"And.. negati-"

I stare at the screen.

I can't see the word "negative".

But what word can I see?

"P-Positive..?" I ask myself in disbelief.

I look at the "+" sign on the screen, and feel a rush of shock run through my body.

"I-I.. I'm pregnant," I exhale loudly, short of breath from shock.

This can't be real.

I take another test and check the result.

Still positive.

Now I believe it.

It's a miracle, a real life miracle!

"I'M PREGNANT!" I squeal at the top of my voice.

I'm glad Michael isn't here, otherwise I would've deafened him.

That's a point, actually.

MICHAEL!

"Oh God!" I cry, running to the bedroom window and looking out at the street outside.

In that moment, I see Michael's car driving up to the house.

I run back to the bathroom, and throw the test boxes away quickly.

I take the positive tests and hide them in my bedside drawer, and run downstairs.

I'm not gonna tell Michael yet, I'm gonna wait for the perfect time.

I'm forcing myself not to cry right now from happiness, for real.

I land on the sofa just as Michael comes through the door.

"Baby, I'm home," he announces like normal.

"I see that," I reply with a smile.

I feel warm, and a little overwhelmed.

"Sweetheart, you don't look so well. Are you alright?" Michael asks.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I reply. "How was work?"

"Oh, not too bad, actually. No surprise visitors, so that's a good thing. No Billie, no Lisa, no Alex, no nothing. It makes a nice change," he laughs.

I feel nervous, and a little sick.

"That's nice," I manage to say.

"So.. you haven't taken a test in a while.. do you wanna take one now, now that I'm home?" he asks.

Crap! No I can't!

"It'll just come up negative anyway," I lie, my tone of voice dejected.

Michael joins me on the sofa. "You never know."

"I think I do," I say.

"Tomorrow's a year since we first met," Michael smiles, pecking my lips once.

I'm glad he changed the subject.

"Oh, I know," I reply. "Time's flown, hasn't it?"

"It sure has, but I guess time flies when you're having fun."

He giggles playfully and tickles my stomach, causing me to flinch.

"No, watch it!" I cry, and he quickly moves his hand away.

Damn, that totally gave it away!

"Why? You normally find tummy tickles fun!" he pouts.

"Yeah well.. I, uh.. I've got a stomach ache," I lie.

"Aww, do you want Doctor Michael to kiss it better for you?" he asks with a smile.

"Of course," I reply.

Michael smiles. "Then allow me to cure it for you."

He bends down and kisses my stomach gently, not in a weird way, more a cute way.

"That better?" he asks, rubbing my stomach after.

If only he knew what was inside of there.

"Much better," I smile. "But just in case, please don't tickle any more."

"I won't. Soon, with more trying, maybe I won't be able to tickle you for fear of harming a possible little person," Michael hints, his grin growing at the thought of a child.

Oblivious. That's hilarious.

But now the challenge comes.

How and when am I gonna tell him the biggest thing in this world?

How will I tell him I'm pregnant?

Author's note: I know this is going fast, but I wanted to get the whole pregnancy thing started - after that, something huge is gonna happen, so I wanna get to that. Hope you like it :)