The Hospital Says I'm a Pregnant Man Chapter 2

I took a deep breath and forced myself to calm down.

My parents had died when I was young. It was my grandmother who had raised me and paid for my education all by herself. The day my acceptance letter arrived, she was so happy that she treated the whole village to a feast.

If I dropped out now, I'd have to retake the university entrance exam. That would set me back an entire year.

Ever since I was little, people back home had said that I was feminine. If word got around that I was "pregnant" now, they'd probably say I'd transitioned into a woman and gotten pregnant with some bastard's child. God knew what they'd say!

With my grandmother's health, she might collapse from the shock alone.

So, I couldn't drop out of university.

I stared at the unruffled doctor in front of me, my mind racing. Slowly, an idea began to take shape.

"I'm sorry, Dr. Little. I was too upset just now." I lowered my head and softened my tone. "I came here from a small town. I don't know how any of this works. Since the tests say I'm pregnant, I'll cooperate."

Michael raised an eyebrow, clearly expecting me to come around eventually. "Good. I'm glad you've seen reason."

He glanced at his watch and tapped his fingers against the desk.

Then, he said, "We get off at 5:00 pm. You have 40 minutes left. If you don't pay by the end of the day, I'll have to notify your university."

40 minutes…

I pulled out my phone. My bank balance was 1,523.60 dollars.

The next moment, I gritted my teeth and started making calls.

"Hey, can you lend me 2,500 dollars? Yeah, I need it urgently. Something happened at university..."

"Ms. Zimmerman, it's Andy. Is there any way I can get my scholarship money early?"

"Hello, is this the installment loan department? I'd like to apply for a credit line..."

Every time someone lent me money, I felt a pang in my heart.

19 thousand dollars was enough to cover my tuition and living expenses for an entire year. But now, because of one absurd medical exam, I was about to pour all of it into this bottomless pit of a hospital.

The minute hand on the wall seemed to fly. Finally, with only a minute left, I'd scraped together the full amount. My finger hovered over the payment button for three seconds before I tapped confirm.

The POS machine spit out a receipt. I held the flimsy slip of paper in my hand, still finding it hard to believe that any of this was real.

Michael seemed to be in a good mood.

He clicked around on his computer a few times and said, "All set. Come back for a follow-up every month from now on."

I looked at the computer in front of him and spoke in an unusually calm voice. "Could you set up my pregnancy file?"

Michael frowned and asked, "Do you want to create a file with us?"

I gave him a shy smile, looking like an innocent, clueless university student. "Yes. Since the tests say I'm pregnant, I should probably be careful. I'll be counting on you to manage my pregnancy from here on out."

Michael studied me suspiciously for a moment. But the look in my eyes was absolutely naïve and harmless, so he didn't press further.

He said, "Fine. There are additional services once the file is created. You'll have to pay for those yourself."

I smiled and nodded, watching him enter my information.

"Name: Andy Linden.

"Age: 18.

"Pregnancy: 12 weeks.

"Due date: March 15."

With that, my file was created, and I'd signed up for their pregnancy management services. I stared at the due date on the screen and gave an icy laugh inwardly.

Over the next few months, I became the hospital's most cooperative "pregnant woman" and the busiest student on campus.

To pay back the 19 thousand dollars I'd borrowed, I took on three part-time jobs at once. My life consisted of nothing but classes, work, and sleep. I was running on a brutal cycle.

While everyone else played sports, gamed with friends, and went out for meals, I ate the cheapest meals in the cafeteria. Fortunately, I managed to make ends meet, though just barely.

Every month, I showed up for my prenatal checkup right on schedule. Each time, I carefully recorded the baby's development data.

At 13 weeks, I went in for my nuchal translucency screening.

The nurse moved the ultrasound probe back and forth across my perfectly flat stomach. The screen was almost completely black, but she pointed at a vague shadow.

She said, "This is the baby's nuchal translucency. Everything looks perfectly normal."

I tilted my head and nodded earnestly. "Good. So the baby is healthy."

At 18 weeks, I had blood drawn for the genetic screening. I watched the nurse label three tubes of blood. I saw "Low risk for trisomy 21" and "Low risk for trisomy 18".

I patted my chest in relief. "You scared me. Thank goodness everything's fine."

At 24 weeks, I went in for a detailed ultrasound.

Michael stared intently at the screen, pointing things out with great seriousness. "Look. Here's the little hand, and here's the foot. The baby is very active."

I leaned closer. All I could see on the screen was a blurry gray blob.

A blissful smile appeared on my face as I said, "That's wonderful. The baby looks just like me."

At first, Michael remained wary. Eventually, though, he completely let his guard down. He even started to think there might be something wrong with me, because every time I came in, I would ask questions very earnestly.

I had asked, "How's the baby's movement? Should I be taking more folic acid?"

Because I was so cooperative, the hospital even gave me an "Outstanding Prenatal Patient" card, which entitled me to a 20% discount on delivery later.

"Ms. Linden, you're a model user of our smart healthcare system. A lot of pregnant women don't come in on schedule, but you haven't missed a single appointment."

I smiled and nodded.

But actually I was counting down the days. There were four weeks left.