Sometimes the worst-case scenarios have happy endings. In this excerpt from Cosmopolitan, Jenny Mollen writes about how an unexpected pregnancy transformed her relationship with now-husband Jason Biggs.
"You know you don't have to marry her just because she's pregnant?" Those were the first words I heard my future mother-in-law utter over the car speaker after Jason told her I was knocked up.
It was 2008, and we'd been dating only six months. Two months prior, we'd gotten secretly engaged in St. Martin, but I considered it more of a pillow-talk promise I could easily extract myself from if he suddenly turned out to be a sociopath, or somebody who owned a bunch of aquariums. My getting pregnant was a surprise that seemed to derail everything.
Over Christmas, I vaguely remembered taking ecstasy, letting Jason finish inside me, then washing down a morning after pill with the next day's breakfast. I gave no thought to the notion that I could actually be pregnant. I wasn't even sure I could get pregnant. I was 28 years old and I'd never been on birth control. Granted, I never let guys finish inside me. But it was the holidays, and I guess I was just feeling festive.
I didn't realize my womb was inhabited until New Year's. Jason and I were skiing with friends in Vermont when I started experiencing what I assumed were the worst menstrual cramps of my life. My boobs were swollen torpedoes of estrogen, and every couple of seconds I'd check behind me to make sure I wasn't turning my double black diamond red. After two more days of not switching into period underwear, I grew concerned and bought pregnancy test. Like buying a Lotto ticket or a rolled up drugstore scroll with my horoscope on it, I wasn't expecting anything except a few seconds of entertainment followed by a tinge of resentment and the desire for my money back. Sitting on the toilet in a freezing cold bathroom, wearing nothing but thermal socks and a headband, I focused intently on the plastic wand holding my destiny. Less than a minute, a smug pink smiley face looked up at me, and I crumbled into my lap hyperventilating. Jason rushed in to see if I was OK.
"Well?" he asked.
For the rest of the article, head to Cosmopolitan: First Comes Miscarriage, Then Comes Marriage, Then Comes Baby
— Jenny Mollen
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