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Samira finds out she's pregnant in the autumn. She was feeling sick, tired. At first she thought that she had a cold, shivering when she threw up one morning.
Jack made her stay at home. He tucked her into bed, wiping her brow and holding back her hair. The last time she felt this sick, her appendix had burst. Her mom took care of her, letting eat all the jelly and ice cream she wanted afterwards.
But now she wanted to throw up at the mere thought of vanilla bean ice cream and artificially coloured jelly.
This morning, Samira was wearing her boyfriend's boxer shorts and grey t-shirt, munching on toast. Any doubt that Samira had about Jack's love for her went away because he let her eat toast in the bed he made with the precision and neatness he had been taught in the military.
“I feel like I have a hangover.” Samira complained, taking a bite out of a slice of toast.
“Maybe you do.” Jack teased, setting down a cup of ginger tea to settle her stomach. His own cup of coffee was in the kitchen, after she complained about the smell of the coffee from the machine.
That was how he knew she was sick. Samira was a caffeine fiend. The smell of fresh coffee was enough to bribe her out of bed every morning.
She narrowed her eyes at him and he smirked, because as Samira always insisted, she never was hungover. Not since college.
“Are you on double?” Samira asked.
“Yeah. You call me if you feel worse, okay?” Jack told her and waited until Samira nodded before kissing her forehead.
After scrolling mindlessly through her phone, going over notes from a journal article on emergency thoracotomies, Samira felt a little better in the afternoon. She sent a text to Jack and showered, wanting to feel a little less gross after laying in bed for most of the morning.
Her hair still damp, she changed into her gym clothes, he went into the kitchen and opened up the fridge. As she opened it, a wave of overpowering smells washed over her, each one more nauseating than the last. It was odd, considering everything was fresh in the fridge- Wait.
The pieces started coming together. Feeling overly sensitive to smells, battling nausea, and experiencing an overwhelming sense of fatigue. Her heart raced as dread washed over her. It was the most simple of diagnosis; any first year med student could come to the conclusion Samira had, standing in front of the fridge. She was bought out of her shock when the fridge made a little ringing sound, wanting to be closed.
“Okay, not to panic.” Samira muttered to herself, picking up her phone. She just had to check her period calender. She could just take a look and see when her last period was.
She was late. Very late. Now it was time to panic.
She took a walk to Walgreens. The fresh air did help, She picked up some trail mix, pouches of chocolate and candy, and other useless things to cover up the two pregnancy tests.
When she returned home, she chugged down a litre of water, peed on two sticks and waited. Five minutes. Five long minutes. Samira curled sat on the bathroom floor, waiting for her phone timer to ring.
Upon returning home, she pounded back a liter of water before hurriedly peeing on the two sticks. Every second felt like an eternity as she waited for the results—five minutes stretched into an agonising lifetime. She curled up on the bathroom floor, her mind racing with thoughts and uncertainties about her future.
Finally, the timer went off.
There are results Samira had felt sick about receiving. Her SATs, her college exams and med school. Her residency evaluations. These things mattered so much to her, what she wanted to see.
She had not wanted to see the small text reading ‘pregnant’ on a Clearblue test. Both of them. She could not even fault their efficacy, she had recommended them to numerous people.
Pregnancy was never an attractive option for Samira. She loved kids, adored kids - she had cousins who had babies she adored. She loved hanging out with Harrison, and when Heather and Robby had their baby, she was happy for them.
But a baby? Samira didn't want to have a baby. It was the last thing she wanted. Biting her lip, she stared at the tests in the bathroom, the sticks taunting her.
After wrapping the tests in toilet paper and throwing away the evidence, she turned back towards the bedroom, the weight of the world heavy on her shoulders. Curling up under the covers, she felt utterly exhausted, her mind racing with all that lay ahead of her, even as sleep began to pull her under.
When she next woke up, it was morning again. Samira opened her eyes, hearing shuffling around. She saw Jack's prosthetic propped up against the wall and smiled.
“Good morning,” Jack greeted her when he emerged from the bathroom. He was freshly showered, shaved and dressed, but tired.
“Hey. How was your shift?” she managed to ask, trying to maintain her composure.
“Not bad,” he replied with a laugh, “Just a bunch of frat boys who thought it’d be a good idea to mix every alcoholic drink on the planet.” He shook his head, going into the closet, “You were knocked out when I came home. I didn't want to wake you.”
Samira gave him a weak grateful smile, sitting up, “Yeah, I was pretty tired. Still throwing up.”
“Yeah?” Jack asked, sitting down to fit on his prosthetic leg. When he glanced up at her, he noticed the anxious, faraway look in her eyes.
Samira watched as he came back to bed, sitting on the edge on her side, “What's the matter? ‘Mira?” He asked
“Jack, I need to tell you something.” Samira said and he nodded.
Then, with a deep breath, Samira blurted out, “I’m pregnant.” Her eyes flitted nervously around the room, unable to meet his gaze.
Jack unfolded his arms slowly, the gravity of her words sinking in. “Okay,” he said, nodding slowly, his expression carefully neutral as he processed the news.
“I don’t want to be,” Samira added, her voice shaky. “I need to make an appointment to confirm it, but I’ve decided I want to have an abortion.”
He nodded again, his face still unreadable. “Okay.”
“I wanted to talk to you first, before making any decisions,” she continued.
“Okay.”
“Stop saying ‘okay!’” Samira snapped, frustrated with how calm he was right now.
“Samira, this isn’t up to me. I really don’t know what else to say.” Jack’s voice was gentle as he placed his hands on her shoulders, grounding her. Samira leaned into touch.
“I’m with you, no matter what you choose,” he assured her, as if hoping to alleviate the tension in the room.
“I don’t want to have a baby,” Samira reiterated firmly.
“Okay. Okay, we’ll figure this out.” Jack said, “I can call Shahidi in OB-'“
“No! Not our hospital. I don't want to be part of the weekly newsletter for the nurses.” Samira told him. She knew why Heather decided to give birth and have her appointments elsewhere. News always spread like wildfire once a nurse or PA knew.
Jack nodded, “Theres the Planned Parenthood about ten minutes from here. They can do all the checks needed.”
Samira nodded, “Yeah, I thought so too.” She said. Rising up on her knees, she shuffled closer to Jack and held his hands, “Thank you.”
She didn't know what she was thanking him for. Maybe his ability to always remain calm when she didn't feel calm or him not challenging her right to choose.
“It’ll be okay.” Jack assured and Samira hugged him tightly.
A few days later, they were at the clinic. Samira held Jacks hand as they walked in. On the corner, there were the usual protesters. Quiet but judgemental with their signs and scientifically inaccurate leaflets. Samira rolled her eyes. Hypocrites.
The waiting area is half full, with different people and couples, a few teenagers. Some people are there for prenatal check ups, teenagers probably wanting to get birth control or even here for the same reason as she was. She liked the randomness of waiting rooms, with so many different people here for different reasons.
A pregnant woman, five months by her estimation offered her a small smile.
“How far along are you?” she asked sweetly.
“Oh, I'm not- we are not…” Samira stuttered.
But the other woman simply smiles, “That's okay. You don't have to explain.” She said softly, much to Samira's relief.
They were called by a nurse who was short and cheery in deep blue scrubs, Sandra on the I.D badge clipped onto her left top pocket.
Jack stood close behind Samira and she smiled up at him as they were brought into an exam room.
“So, Dr Thurston will be performing your abortion today.” Sandra said, and looked at Jack, “You can join in the room, if you are wanted.”
Jack nodded silently, hands in his pocket. Samira was then taken to a changing room by Sandra who had a gown and slippers ready for her.
“The man you came in with today, is he the father?” Sandra asked, still holding onto the gown.
“Yes.” Samira replied, “He's my…partner.” Boyfriend felt too immature to describe him. They were friends, lovers. Partner felt more reliable.
Sandra nodded, “I do have to ask this, are you being pressured, honey?” She asked, kindness in her deep green eyes, “If you need help at all, we can help you.”
“Oh, no, no.” Samira assured with a small smile, “I asked him to come. Neither of us want kids and I know he’d be antsy all day, especially with those protests outside. Really, I do not want this pregnancy.”
The nurse nodded, satisfied, “Alright. That's good. This is part of the welfare check.”
“I get it.” Samira smiled, “We're both doctors.”
Sandra smiled, “Oh, wonderful. And I'm glad you came here. It's better to go to a different practice for anything to do with pregnancy.”
Samira nodded in agreement, glad she understood.
“He's also a vet. Small talk is not his strength.’ Samira quipped and they shared a small laugh.
Jack sat on the stool next to the narrow examination bed when Samira emerged, draped in a soft purple gown that seemed to emphasize both her vulnerability and resilience. Taking a steady breath, she lay down, her gaze drifting toward the ceiling.
Jack reached out, gently clasping her hand in his. “You okay?” he asked, his voice a soothing balm to her mounting anxiety.
“Yeah, I think we're taking this patient empathy thing a little too far,” Samira quipped nervously, attempting to inject humor into the gravity of the situation. Jack offered a reassuring smile, pressing a soft kiss to the back of her hand, grounding her in the moment.
Moments later, Dr. Thurston entered the room, her deep purple scrubs on. Samira inhaled deeply, preparing herself for what she knew awaited her.
Samira knew how vacuum aspiration worked. The ins and out and even as the local anaesthetic set in, her lower body numb, she couldn't help but feel anxious. She was a doctor, not a natural patient. Exposed to a doctor, legs propped up and spread. She inhaled and looked up at the eggshell coloured ceiling.
Through it all, Jack remained by her side, his grip steady as he watched the myriad of emotions flicker across her face. Samira nibbled her lip, stifling a wince of discomfort. The local anaesthetic coursed through her like a whisper, making her lower body feel increasingly numb. Just when her mind began to spiral into anxious thoughts, she realized the procedure was over quicker than she had anticipated. Relief washed over her, and soon they found themselves in a recovery room.
Laying on the cot, Samira’s expression was thoughtful, a mixture of weariness and relief. Jack brushed a few stray strands of hair that had fallen from her ponytail behind her ear, a gesture both tender and comforting.
“How are you feeling?” Jack asked, concern lacing his words.
Samira blinked, giving him a small smile. “I really want lasagne. I don’t know why.” She mused, her thoughts drifting to cheesy layers of pasta, the comfort food calling to her. “With so much cheese.”
“We can order in from that Italian place on Penn Ave,” Jack suggested, a grin pulling at the corners of his mouth.
“Tiramisu for dessert,” Samira added, her eyes lighting up at the idea.
“Deal,” he replied with a nod.
The door swung open, and Dr. Thurston returned to check on them, her face softening further without her surgical attire. “How are you?” she inquired with genuine curiosity.
"I'm okay; a little sore." Samira said, "But I know that's normal."
"It is." Dr Thurston placed some leaflets on the small table, some numbers circled with red pen, “We also have these services, as everyone can feel a range of emotions after an abortion. Please don't hesitate if you need help but also, don't feel badly if you do not need help either.” She said sincerely.
Samira nodded, taking the leaflets and nodded sincerely at doctor who smiled gently in return.
“Thank you.” Samira said to her.
"Uh, what can I do to help?" Jack asked.
"Well, everything went well. The pregnancy has ended. Keep her comfortable and resting.” Dr. Thurston said, “Tylenol is best if there's any pain. If there is bleeding and pain after a few days, go to the ER.”
Samira smiled at Jack who huffed a laugh, the irony of two emergency medicine doctors needing to go to E.R was not lost on them.
"Thanks, Dr Thurston." Samira smiled.
When they finally returned home, Jack ordered Samira back to bed. She rolled her eyes, feeling like she soon might become part of their bed with the amount of time they were spending in it - and yet she wasn't having any fun.
“Are you alright?” Jack asked as he settled onto the bed beside her.
Samira turned over, her brow furrowing as she whispered, “I wish I felt sad.” she said
.
“You shouldn’t feel bad,” Jack replied softly. “Physically, sure, a little discomfort is normal. But emotionally? You’re allowed to feel whatever you feel.”
“I feel so relieved,” Samira confessed. “Realising I might be pregnant was terrifying; when the tests confirmed it, I felt sick."
She had waited for that joy to come; the one she saw in ads and on the faces of people she had seen when they find out they're pregnant. But it didn't come. Instead, she felt sheer dread, anxiety.
“Thank you for being truly great,” Samira said to Jack, and she gently interlocked her fingers with his.
“Don’t mention it,” He replied, his tone warm, “We’re a team. Always.”
“I don’t hate kids, you know that, right?” Samira countered playfully.
“I think babies are boring. Cute, sure, but boring,” Jack teased, only for Samira to pinch his arm lightly, eliciting a laugh from him.
“I kind of thought you would be the one who wanted a family.” Samria admitted and he raised an eyebrow, as though offended.
“Because I’m an old man?” He teased back, raising an eyebrow. “Is my biological clock ticking?”
“A lot of old men like having babies,” She retorted, a chuckle escaping her lips. “You don’t want to feel young again?”
Jack chuckled, shaking his head. “I think babies make you feel old. Besides, kids are great when you can give them back after a few hours.”
“So true. And I still really want that tiramisu,” Samira said with a softer gaze, “If I were pregnant, I wouldn’t even be able to have tiramisu.”
“It’s on its way,” Jack promised, his tone shifting slightly as he broached the topic of birth control. “What do you want to do for that? I’m more than happy to pick up some more condoms. I'm sorry. I should have thought..."
"I have never complained," Samira reminded him, a teasing smile on her face. The oral pill might not be enough. She would need to consider going for an implant or IUD for long-term solutions. “Condoms for now, whilst I figure it out. I’m staying on the pill for the moment, but your super-sperm is going to need to calm down,” she said with a smirk.
Jack nearly choked with laughter, “My super-sperm?”
“Military-grade, clearly."
“Well, that’s how I got into the Forces." he quipped, glancing at her with a mock-seriousness.
“Didn’t know that was part of the recruitment process,” Samira laughed.
They lay there in a comfortable silence. Samira gently rocked their joint hands back and forth, looking at how big his hand was compared to hers. She knew it of course, way back when he'd guide her through a procedure.
"I want to be the best doctor I can be. That doesn't involve a kid for me." Samira said quietly, looking up at Jack, "Does that make me selfish?"
"No. Not selfish." Jack said firmly.
“What if I wanted a kid?” she asked, suddenly curious, her tone shifting slightly.
Jack paused. “Then we’d have a kid,” he replied simply.
“You really take the pro-choice thing seriously.” Samira teased, her smile softening.
Jack smiled mildly, “I’ve seen too much shit in this world. Anyone who tries to force someone to stay pregnant is sick. It’s not something to take lightly. Health risks aside, that’s a child; a person." He explained, "They should come into this world because they are wanted. I’ve met people with nothing who raised good kids because they wanted them, and then there are wealthy folks who had kids out of obligation and ended up fucking them up.”
Samira nodded, her heart swelling with agreement. “I think kids are great. I have a deep respect for them. That’s also why I never wanted any.” She paused, recalling the conversations from her past. “I remember saying that to some friends and getting labeled as selfish.”
“Who is calling you selfish?” Jack asked sharply. Samira fondly rolled her eyes.
“Calm down, this was in college,” she reassured him, seeing the way his body tensed with protective instinct. “And my mom has, luckily, become accustomed to the idea. But she definitely won’t tell any of the aunties.” A snort of laughter escaped her as she imagined her mother trying to explain the concept of being happily grandchild-free to her relatives.
As they laughed, the intercom buzzed, signaling the arrival of their order. Jack raised an eyebrow, a playful grin ghosting across his face. “Guess it’s time for lasagne and tiramisu?”
“Thank God. Go, I'm on post pregnancy bed rest,” Samira replied, relief and joy washing over her.
Samie lay back, a smile on her face. No, parenthood was not for her and she felt relieved more than anything that she had the ability to make that choice and even better having a partner that understood and supported her. She knew it meant that she could face anything else that came that way. And also knew they were not missing the next MSF trip, together.