What it's like to be pregnant with a cheating husband's baby.

“Are you sitting down? I am pregnant,” was my whispered cry into the phone. I called Husband.

“What are you going to do?” he asked.

“Keep the baby. What can I do? I guess there are more tests. I have to stay at the hospital.”

I hung up the phone. Nothing in the world made sense. You couldn’t make this s*** up. How did my life turn into a soap opera?

I consider myself to be a pretty average person. There is nothing special about me. I try to do the right thing, the moral thing and raise my boys in an ethical manner. I don't have affairs. I don't drink excessively or do drugs, but after this pregnancy, my wine consumption might significantly increase. I believe in the G.O.D. but haven't been to church in a while.

How was I going to raise this baby? Would I have to let cheating husband back into my life? Few choices were left. I was screwed.

I sat there with the world spinning. I called my mum who started sobbing hysterically into the phone. I called my friend Mona. She was shocked in disbelief. Then my head went straight for the steering wheel and I sat. Where could I go? What could I do? This couldn't actually be happening, but it was happening. It was the worst week of my life.

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But then I paused. I had already had two babies, two boys, who were my blessings and my end all and be all. They were family. They were my reason for getting up in the morning this week and the reason I had not crawled into a cavern and keeled over.

Another baby would be the same. Life would be hard, very hard, and I knew this and was not delusional about it. Maybe I would have a girl this time with ringlets, and we could have tea parties and play dolls while her brothers were crashing their cars and trucks into the walls. Maybe another baby would be okay and help get me through this mess.

Another baby, a third, was now in my life and in my womb.

........

In about three hours time, I found myself hooked up to another ultrasound machine. The blood tests had come back and the counts said that I was about six or seven weeks pregnant, which was strange because the doctor nor I noticed any babies on the ultrasound earlier when she was playing hide and seek with the piece of crap IUD.

I lay still on the table, and a lovely wand was shoved up my who-ha. Yes, it was a vaginal ultrasound which was so exciting. But this time, I was not alone. I had baby #3 and Mona, a friend since kindergarten, by my side.

Mona had rushed over to the hospital since my sister lived far away, my mum was watching the boys, and my dad was at work. She told me stories after story about her adventures with online dating to help pass the time.

Thank God she came. Mona took my mind off of everything, and I could laugh at drunken dates, men who thought the Virgin Mary was a time travelling diva, and giggle about fat cats. I did not think about the affair, Husband, or the uncertain life that was before me.

Then we heard it, the heart beat; the swish glub glub of the heart beat was unmistakable. I had heard the heart beat with both of my boys and now this one. There was definitely another baby inside of me. How could this be? I didn't feel pregnant. But the heart beat was there. It rang in my ears and my soul.

Then ultrasound technician walked out of the room. Ten minutes later the phone rang.

"Stephanie, this is Dr. Louis. I work with Dr. Sales. It looks like you have an ectopic pregnancy. I am going to need you to head over to the hospital immediately. With it this far along, we will need to do surgery tonight."

Out I walked, numb again.

This post originally appeared on Divorced Moms.