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I guess I knew for a while.
I had just started college though, I kept saying to myself 'it's impossible', 'it's stress' and so on.
I remember going home for Christmas and asking my parents if they'd still love me if I was fat.
I think it was February, when I was 6 months along, that some classmates of mine convinced me to go see a doctor.
Her comment (I remember the baby doing somersaults in the waiting room, while I justified it by thinking it was gas) 'You who should be so smart since you go to Carnegie Mellon University, how can you not know?'. And then 'It's too late for an abortion, we can arrange an adoption.'
So panic, relief that I finally 'knew'. Panic.
I called my parents, I was going home that weekend and my dad hung up on me. He did call right back.
Parts of me enjoyed being pregnant. I enjoyed the relationship I had with my unborn baby. Is that weird?
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