The bathroom floor was cold against my legs, but I couldn’t feel it. My hands were shaking too hard. I was staring at the little plastic stick in my hand, at the two pink lines that had just turned my entire life upside down. I’m 24 years old.
I live in a small apartment in the city. Before January, my life was simple. I worked in a flower shop, I came home, I watched TV. I was happy with my quiet, predictable days.
But one month destroyed all of that. And now, three months later, I’m sitting on the bathroom floor, pregnant, with no idea who the father is. There are three possibilities. Three men.
And I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking I’m a bad person. Please don’t judge me. I’m not a bad person.
I was just lost. I was so, so sad. And sometimes, when we’re sad, we make terrible mistakes. It started with Tom.
Tom was my boyfriend for three years. I loved him deeply. We talked about a house, a family, a future. I felt safe with him.
But in early January, he came to my door and stood there, looking at the floor. He didn’t even sit down. “Amber,” he said. “I can’t do this anymore.
”
“What do you mean? ” I asked, my heart already sinking. “I don’t love you anymore. ”
And then he left.
He just closed the door and walked out of my life. I stood there for what felt like an hour, unable to move. I stayed in bed for three days after that. I didn’t eat.
I didn’t sleep. I called him over and over, but he never answered. A week later, I showed up at his house in the pouring rain. I was desperate.
I was pathetic. He opened the door, saw me crying, and let me in out of pity. We talked. We cried.
And then, one thing led to another, and I spent the night with him. For a few hours, it felt like the old days. I thought maybe he still loved me. But in the morning, his face was cold again.
“This was a mistake, Amber,” he said. “You should go. ”
My heart broke a second time. That was the first possibility.
Two days later, my friend Sarah called. She said I needed to get out of the house, so I went to a club with her. The music was loud, the lights were flashing, and I stood in a corner feeling small and invisible. Then a man came up to me.
His name was Jack. He was handsome, with dark eyes and a charming smile. He asked me why I looked so sad. “I’m not sad,” I lied.
“You look sad,” he said. “Dance with me. ”
I said no at first, but he kept asking. He made me laugh.
I hadn’t laughed in weeks. It felt good, so I stayed. We danced, we drank, and I let myself forget my pain for a few hours. He told me I was beautiful, and I wanted to believe him.
When we left the club together, I went with him without really thinking. I only knew his first name. I didn’t know anything about him. I woke up the next morning in a strange room, next to a stranger.
I felt sick with shame. I dressed quickly and ran out without saying goodbye. That was the second possibility. The next week, I was back at the flower shop, trying to hold myself together.
My co-worker Sam saw right through me. Sam is a kind man with gentle eyes. We’d worked together for two years, and he always helped me carry the heavy boxes and brought me coffee. He knew about Tom.
He was a good listener, unlike Sarah, who just wanted me to party. One evening after work, it was snowing outside and the shop was closed. I was cleaning the floor when I broke down crying. I sat down and covered my face, unable to stop.
Sam came over and sat on the floor next to me. He didn’t say anything. He just sat with me. “I’m a mess, Sam,” I said.
“You’re not a mess,” he said softly. “You’re just hurting. ”
He hugged me, and his hug was warm and safe. It felt like home.
We looked at each other in the quiet shop that smelled like roses, and then I leaned in. He leaned in. We kissed. It was gentle and sweet.
We ended up spending the night together at his apartment above the shop. It wasn’t a desperate act like with Tom or a reckless mistake like with Jack. It was comforting. But the next day, I felt confused.
Sam was my friend. I didn’t want to lose him. “I’m sorry, Sam,” I said. “I’m confused.
I can’t be with you right now. ”
He looked sad, but he nodded. “I understand, Amber. Take your time.
”
That was the third possibility. After that night with Sam, I stopped. I realized I was running from my pain, and I needed to be alone. So I spent February and March focusing on work, reading books, drinking tea.
The heavy stone in my chest slowly started to shrink. But then my body began to change. I felt sick every morning. Coffee made me want to vomit.
I was exhausted no matter how much I slept. My period didn’t come. Not for one week, not for two, not for three. Deep down, I already knew.
But I bought the test anyway. And now here I am, on the bathroom floor, staring at two pink lines. Who is the father? If it’s Tom, maybe this baby could bring him back.
But do I even want him back? He left me. He called our night together a mistake. If it’s Jack, I don’t even know his last name.
I have no way to find him. And if it’s Sam? Sam would be a good father. Sam is kind.
But do I love him? Is it fair to bring a child into that confusion? I stood up, washed my face, and looked in the mirror. My face was pale and my eyes were red.
“You can do this, Amber,” I whispered. I went to the doctor. I needed to know how far along I was. The waiting room was full of happy couples holding hands, and I sat there alone, gripping my purse.
A kind doctor with gray hair did an ultrasound. When I saw the small gray shape on the screen, and I heard the rapid boom-boom of the heartbeat, tears rolled down my face. “How old is it? ” I asked, holding my breath.
“You’re about twelve weeks pregnant,” she said. “Conception was likely in mid-January. ”
Mid-January. My heart sank.
I saw Tom in the second week of January. I saw Jack three days later. Sam four days after that. They were all in the same week.
The doctor couldn’t tell me who the father was. The dates were too close. It could be any of them. I left the office with a picture of the baby in my hand.
I sat on a park bench and watched children play. I knew I had to tell them. The father had a right to know, no matter how ashamed I felt. But I couldn’t tell three men.
That felt too shameful. Then I realized something while sitting on that bench. The baby was innocent. The baby didn’t make a mistake.
I did. But this baby was a gift. I put my hand on my stomach. “I will protect you, no matter what,” I said.
I decided to start with the person I trusted most. I walked to the flower shop. Sam was behind the counter, cutting stems. When he saw my face, his smile faded.
“What’s wrong? ” he asked. I couldn’t speak. I just handed him the ultrasound picture.
“I’m pregnant,” I said. Sam was quiet. The only sound was the refrigerator humming. “Is it mine?
” he asked softly. “I don’t know,” I said, looking down. “I don’t know, Sam. ”
I waited for him to yell.
I waited for him to call me terrible names. But instead, he took my hand. “Amber, look at me,” he said. His eyes were sad, but they were kind.
“It was a bad month. I was lost. I am so sorry, Sam. ”
He pulled me into a hug and held me tight.
“Shh. It’s okay. ”
“It’s not okay,” I sobbed. “I don’t know who the father is.
It could be Tom. It could be someone else. Or it could be you. ”
Sam pulled back and held my shoulders.
“You are my friend. I care about you. This baby is a life. You are not alone,” he said.
“Do you want me to help you find the truth? ”
“Why are you being so nice? ” I asked. “Because you need a friend.
And if this baby is mine, I want to be a father. And if it’s not, I still want you to be okay. ”
A weight lifted off my shoulders. For the first time in months, I felt like I wasn’t alone.
The next day, Sam drove me to Tom’s house. I was shaking. He waited in the car. “I’ll be right here,” he said.
Tom opened the door and looked tired. I told him everything. I told him I was pregnant. I told him the dates.
I told him I didn’t know if it was his. Tom’s face turned red. “You don’t know? You were with other people.
”
“We were broken up,” I said quietly. “And you told me to leave. ”
“This is a mess,” Tom said. “I don’t want a baby, Amber.
Especially not like this. Not if you don’t know. ”
“I understand,” I said. “But I had to tell you.
I’ll do a DNA test when the baby’s born. If it’s yours, you can decide what to do. ”
“I don’t want it,” Tom said coldly. “Don’t call me until you have a test.
”
He closed the door. I walked back to the car, crying, but also feeling something new: strength. I knew the truth about Tom now. Even if he was the father, he would never be a dad.
A father is someone who stays. Tom is someone who leaves. Sam looked at me. “Are you okay?
”
“He doesn’t want the baby,” I said. Sam started the car. “His loss. He’s a fool.
”
We drove away, and one man was down. “What about the other one? ” Sam asked. “Jack?
”
“I don’t know where he lives. I only know the club. ”
“We can go there and look for him. ”
I looked at Sam’s kind profile and thought about my baby.
“No. I don’t want to find Jack. He was a mistake. He was a stranger.
I don’t want him in my life. If the baby is his, I’ll raise it alone. ”
“Are you sure? ”
“I’m sure.
I don’t need a stranger. I need good people. I’m going to keep this baby. I’m going to be a mother.
And I don’t care about biology right now. I care about love. ”
Days turned into weeks. My stomach grew.
Sam helped me every day. He brought me food. He painted the baby’s room. He went to doctor appointments with me.
We talked more, and we grew closer. One night, we were sitting on my couch, and the baby kicked. “Oh,” I said. “What?
” Sam asked. “The baby kicked. Here, feel. ”
I put his hand on my stomach.
A moment later, thump. Sam’s eyes filled with tears. “Amber,” he said, “I don’t care. ”
“You don’t care about what?
”
“I don’t care about the DNA test. I love you. And I already love this baby. Blood doesn’t make a father.
Love makes a father. ”
My heart melted. I had been asking the wrong question. The real question wasn’t who the father was.
It was who would be the dad. Tom was the past. Jack was a stranger. But Sam was the present.
Sam was the future. “Are you sure? ” I asked. “What if the baby looks like Jack?
What if the baby looks like Tom? ”
“Then we’ll love the baby anyway. I want to be with you, Amber. I want to help you raise this child.
”
I started crying happy tears. “I think I love you too, Sam. I think I was blind before, but I see you now. ”
The months passed quickly.
My belly grew big. I was heavy and slow, but I was happy. I wasn’t scared anymore. The day came.
Labor was painful and hard, but Sam held my hand the entire time. He wiped my forehead and told me I was strong. “Push, Amber, push,” the doctor said. And then I heard a cry.
A loud, strong cry. “It’s a girl,” the doctor said. They placed her on my chest. She was tiny and pink, with dark hair.
She was perfect. I looked at her face, searching for Tom, for Jack, for Sam. But she just looked like me. She had my dark eyes.
She had my small nose. Sam looked at her, and he was crying. “She’s beautiful,” he said. We named her Lily, because we both love flowers.
A few days later, the doctor came in. “Do you want to do the paternity test now? We can take a sample. ”
I looked at Sam.
He was holding Lily, singing a soft song to her. She was sleeping peacefully in his arms, looking safe and loved. I looked back at the doctor. “No.
”
The doctor looked surprised. “No. I don’t need the test. I know who her father is.
”
I looked at Sam, and he smiled at me. “Her father is the man who holds her. Her father is the man who loves her. Her father is Sam.
”
Sam kissed Lily’s head, then he kissed me. “Let’s go home,” he said. That’s my story. It started as the worst month of my life.
I was lost, scared, and carrying a secret. I thought my life was over. But it wasn’t over. It was just beginning.
I still don’t know the biology. Maybe Lily is Tom’s. Maybe she’s Jack’s. Maybe she’s Sam’s.
One day, if she wants to know, we’ll find out together. We’ll tell her she was a surprise, but a wonderful one. But for now, it doesn’t matter. I’m Amber.
I’m a mother. And I’m happy.
