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Doctor Winters… would you like to be a daddy… my baby daddy?
It would just take one little accident, right?
I… I want a baby, No, no… I don’t want IVF,
I want it the ‘old fashioned way’. I want it …. with you, doctor.
When Doctor Ted Winters takes me to a sperm bank, I am supposed to be evaluating the qualities I want in a donor.
But, all I am thinking about is, How about Doctor Winters as the… omg…
We all deserve a second chance in life, right?
Well, I know it’s not going to happen, I know what I did back then was unpardonable, And yet, I am dreaming about our future.
Dreaming about him rubbing my swollen pregnancy feet, Dreaming about him running out at midnight to satisfy my weird food cravings, Dreaming about him feeling my belly when the baby kicks.
A high-school sweetheart, now my fertility doctor, and in the future… Well, who knows…
Judge me all you want, Call me the queen of scandals, if you will!
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I shifted nervously as I sat in the waiting room, trying not to look like a guilty person in a police lineup – even if that was how I felt.
I was about to cross a major line – one that I couldn’t go back from once I did it. I was crossing the Rubicon. I had hope that things would go the way that I wanted them to but there was just as big of a chance that it all blew up in my face.
After all, it was bad enough to have the hots for your doctor, but even worse when that doctor was also your ex-boyfriend.
Ted and I had dated in high school. He had been a little punk, literally. He’d really been struggling at the time, and now that I was older and had the benefit of hindsight I could really see that. He had been into raves, all that dark clothing, the crazy hair styles, the whole deal, and it wasn’t that I’d ever thought there was anything wrong with that. As a teenager I’d thought it was hot.
But now I could look back and see that there’d been a deeper reason behind it other than the one my parents had decided, which was namely that he wasn’t going anywhere and that he just wanted to rebel for the sake of it and thought it all made him look different, cool, unique.
I was thirty now, though, and I’d been seventeen at the time. So there was a real jump in maturity in the meantime.
Anyhow we had dated and I had been desperately in love with him in that all-consuming high school kind of way. I had planned to go to college nearby so that we could still date, since Ted hadn’t known what he wanted to do with his life and I hadn’t minded staying in Charleston, near my family.
But then I’d been encouraged, shall we say, to break up with him.
On prom night.
The words I’d said still echoed in my ears to this day, a constant reminder of my cowardice. I’m sorry, Ted, but I need someone who will take things seriously. This has been fun, but I want to be with someone who is going to make something of himself. Not someone who’s as good as dropped out. I deserve better.
Talk about a slap in the face.
And talk about my words coming back to bite me in the ass. Ted had definitely made something of himself. I was currently sitting in the waiting room of the Winters’ Fertility Clinic, run by Dr. Ted Winters himself, and rated the best in the state. Clients were on his list for months before they could get in to see him. So yeah, that didn’t exactly go how I’d thought in high school.
My own life hadn’t gone how I’d thought in high school, either. I had married right out of college, married someone who was going to ‘make something of himself’, and look at how that had turned out.
Years of a miserable marriage, years of being abused and manipulated, and now a divorce with no idea what to do with my life, having to start all over.
I should’ve gotten that damn divorce years ago. But oh no, everyone always said it’s not like he hits you. As if physical abuse was the only way that someone could be abusive. As if he hadn’t spent years making me think I was crazy, or belittling me, yelling at me for the slightest mistakes, insulting me, ogling other women and telling me how easily he could find a replacement for me. As if I hadn’t spent years losing my self-esteem, my self-respect, feeling isolated and alone.
At least I’d finally gotten the good sense to divorce him and could stand on my own two feet. And now I was ready to get my life back on track and go after something I had always wanted, something Chad – that was my ex-husband – had always kept from me:
Nobody thought it was a good idea for the recently divorced wife of the governor’s son to have a baby on her own. But I honestly didn’t give a rat’s ass what other people thought, not anymore.
I had spent my whole life being told what to do by my parents, and by society, and by my husband. How to act, how to talk, how to dress, all of it. Was it any wonder I had fallen into an abusive relationship for so long, when my family and society had already prepared me to not know who I was, to rely upon others to tell me my personality?
I was going after the life I truly deserved. And I had always wanted to be a mother.
I knew it was a bit old fashioned, to tell people I just wanted to be a mom. But it was true. Of course I had other passions. I didn’t want my life to be only about being a parent. But I wanted to refocus my life and I didn’t want to wait any longer for this dream. I’d hoped to be a mother before now, but here I was, thirty years old, and time was running out.