I awoke the next morning feeling nauseous, a gnawing discomfort in the pit of my stomach that had been becoming a regular occurrence. For the past week, I had been waking up like this, my body rebelling against me in ways I couldn't comprehend. At first, I thought it might be due to stress—after everything that had happened with my job, it seemed plausible. But this morning felt different. The queasiness wasn't just a morning thing anymore; it was persistent, stretching into the afternoon.
As I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, a wave of dizziness washed over me, forcing me to sit up slowly. My head was spinning, and I felt a strange heaviness in my body that I couldn't shake. "What the hell is going on with me?" I muttered, rubbing my temples.
After forcing down a piece of toast and some water, I decided it was time to see a doctor. I needed answers, and a quick internet search about my symptoms only heightened my anxiety. I couldn't ignore this any longer.
The waiting room at the clinic was quiet, save for the soft murmur of a television in the corner. I fidgeted in my seat, tapping my foot nervously against the tiled floor. After what felt like an eternity, the nurse called my name, and I was led into a small examination room.
Dr. Patel, a middle-aged man with a calm demeanor, entered with my file in hand. "Good morning, Seren. How are you feeling today?" he asked, glancing at me over his glasses.
"Not great," I replied, trying to keep my voice steady. "I've been feeling really nauseous and dizzy for the past week. It's getting worse, and I don't know what's going on."
Dr. Patel nodded, jotting down notes on his clipboard. "Have you experienced any other symptoms? Fatigue, changes in appetite, anything like that?"
"Yeah, all of that," I admitted. "I've been feeling really tired, even when I get enough sleep. And I've lost my appetite. I can barely eat without feeling sick."
He continued to ask me a series of questions, his pen moving swiftly across the paper. After a few minutes, he set the clipboard aside and turned to face me directly. "I'd like to run a few tests to see what might be causing these symptoms. We'll do a blood test and a few others to rule out any potential issues. Does that sound okay?"
I nodded, feeling a knot of anxiety tighten in my stomach. "Yeah, that's fine. I just want to know what's wrong with me."
The tests were quick, but the waiting felt like forever. I sat in the examination room, my mind racing with all the possibilities. Dr. Patel returned after a while, his expression unreadable as he held the test results in his hand.
"Seren," he began, pausing to take a deep breath. "I have some results here that are… unexpected."
My heart started pounding. "What do you mean?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
He hesitated, then continued. "The tests show that you're pregnant."
I blinked, not comprehending his words. "Pregnant?" I echoed, shaking my head in disbelief. "That's not possible. I'm a guy. There has to be some kind of mistake."
Dr. Patel remained calm, but his gaze was sympathetic. "I understand this is surprising, Seren, but the tests are conclusive. You're pregnant."
I stared at him, my mind reeling. "But… how? How is that even possible?"
He shifted slightly, his face softening with understanding. "I reviewed your medical records and noticed something that wasn't discussed during your previous visits. It appears that you were born with a condition known as Persistent Müllerian Duct Syndrome, or PMDS."
I frowned, the term unfamiliar to me. "What does that mean?"
"It means that while you have male external genitalia, you also have a uterus and, possibly, other internal female reproductive organs," he explained gently. "This condition is quite rare, but it does occur."
My head was spinning, trying to process what he was telling me. "So… you're saying I have a womb? And that's why I'm pregnant?"
He nodded. "Yes, exactly. Your body has the capability of carrying a pregnancy, even though it might not be something you were aware of."
I felt like the ground had been pulled out from under me. All the years of thinking I knew who I was, only to find out there was this whole other part of me that I never even knew existed. "Why didn't I know about this?" I asked, my voice shaky. "Why didn't anyone tell me?"
Dr. Patel's expression grew more serious. "I believe your parents knew about it. According to your medical history, they were informed when you were around sixteen."
His words hit me like a punch to the gut. "Sixteen…" I murmured, the memory of my parents arguing in the car flashing vividly in my mind. That was the night of the accident. The night I lost them both.
Suddenly, it all made sense. The argument, the tension in the car that night—they had found out about my condition and didn't know how to tell me. Tears filled my eyes as I realized the truth. "They knew," I whispered, my voice breaking. "They knew, and they never told me."
Dr. Patel reached out, placing a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "I'm sorry, Seren. I know this is a lot to take in. If you need time to process or if you have any more questions, I'm here to help in any way I can."
I nodded, wiping away the tears that had started to fall. "Thank you," I managed to say, though my mind was a whirl of confusion and disbelief. "I just… I need some time to think."
"Of course," he replied softly. "Take all the time you need. And please, if you need to talk to someone or need support, there are resources available."
I left the clinic in a daze, my thoughts a chaotic mess of emotions. My parents had known about this condition and never told me. They were gone now, and I was left with more questions than answers. The reality of my pregnancy was sinking in, but I couldn't even begin to fathom what it meant for my future.
As I walked down the street, the world around me seemed to blur. I was lost in my own thoughts, grappling with a truth that had been hidden from me my entire life. The truth about who I was, and the new reality I was now facing.
All I knew for sure was that everything had changed in an instant, and there was no going back.