Obstetrics and Gynecology

Week One

While this is technically considered the first week of your pregnancy, baby is still only a glimmer in your eye (and an egg in your ovary). The first day of your period is considered Day 1 of the 280 days of your pregnancy even though conception won't occur for another 14 days or so (we know, it's totally confusing).

This has become almost like a game, but then again, everything they do is, as Annie put it, "some sick competition."

They aren't exclusive; hell, Jeff has probably slept with a dozen girls since they'd started this "no strings attached" sex pact and Britta has had her fair share of dates as well. But there is something about this particular situation; there is a certain thrill to the sneaking, a certain rush when they come together, no pun intended, knowing that this is their little secret, that no one else knows about them.

Abed probably knows. But Abed knows everything.

Week Two

At the end of this week, the utterly mind-blowing miracle—conception—will occur! Once the egg's been fertilized, it will split into two nuclei that contain the genes of you and your partner (like Dad's gorgeous eyes and Mom's great legs). Although you won't know it for months yet, the gender of your baby and his or her eye and hair color, and even to some extent his or her personality, has all already been determined. Your little blastocyst (aka, teensy, weensy baby-to-be) will begin the long 7-to-10-day trek down the fallopian tubes to the uterus. Congratulations, Mama, you're pregnant ... you just don't know it yet!

They couldn't recall when this had first happened, but they weren't expecting the outcome or the effect it had on them.

Jeff and Britta have been secretly hooking up, it is true, for about three or four months before they had done it. Before their child, whom they didn't know existed, had been created. All it had taken was one drunken make-out session, one sloppy round of sex in the grungy unisex bathroom at The Red Door/L-Street- whichever. Later they realized they hadn't bothered to use a condom, but whatever. It was just once.

But once is all it takes.

Week Three

Just because you don't know if you're knocked up yet doesn't mean there isn't plenty going on inside of you. This week starts with what is probably one of the most momentous events in your pregnancy (besides the meeting of egg and sperm and when you actually have the baby): implantation. By the end of this week, your little sugar pie will be made of 500 microscopic cells.

"Holy shit," Britta groans as Pierce stumbles through their assigned Anthropology reading one afternoon. "When are you going to learn to read?"

"In his defense, they didn't have printed word back then," Jeff jokes, trying to ease the tension caused by her outburst. "It's hard reading things penned by quill."

"Ooh! Shakespearean Era burn!" Troy shouts, laughing.

"You've been a moody bitch lately," Pierce frowns. "What's the matter? Aunt Flo in town?"

Britta glares at him. "Shut the hell up."

Later, she cries when she receives a C on her Women Studies paper.

She didn't know she cared that much.

Week Four

Your microscopic embryo is already hard at work this week creating the placenta, umbilical cord and the basics of his or her body. Believe it or not, your baby is already starting to look like a tiny little being (not necessarily a human being) complete with a head, a mouth opening and a primitive brain and heart. By the end of this week, your baby measures about 1/25 of an inch long, about the size of a period (like the one at the end of this sentence, not the one you just missed).

She misses a period.

At first, she panics. Of course pregnancy is the first thing on her mind, because this isn't normal. She has been moody lately and she was blaming it on her upcoming period. But it never comes. Days pass and Britta waits. She can't blame it on stress; there is no stress at Greendale. She can't blame it on malnutrition, because she's been eating nonstop lately. Yeah, her cycle has always been irregular, so maybe that's it? Maybe it'll come next week, she tells herself, and allows herself to forget.

She doesn't. And her period never comes.

Week Five

Your baby's microscopic heart begins to beat this week—although it won't be detectable with one of those cool Dopplers for a few weeks, so you'll have to wait a little longer to hear that satisfying "whoosh-whoosh" you're so anxious for. Your baby's first organ system will be up and running! The beginnings of the brain; the cardiovascular, nervous and reproductive systems; as well as all other major systems are under way. Your baby's new digs—the amniotic sac and the placenta (aka the hotel and the restaurant)—are still forming at this point. (Maybe you should send a housewarming gift.) All that high-speed development and your baby is only 2 millimeters long—about the size of a sesame seed (check one out next time you're eating a bagel—you won't believe how tiny it is!).

She and Jeff are arguing as usual and have been for over an hour. Britta doesn't even know what they're arguing about anymore- she's completely lost context of the conversation- because all of a sudden, an intense wave of nausea washes over her and she has to lean against her bathroom door for support. Jeff smirks, as he would, and asks, "What? Am I making you physically ill?"

Her body answers for her. She barely has time to turn around and enter the bathroom before she's vomiting. She's barely aware of Jeff holding back her hair, grimacing vilely, before she's retching again. "Whoa. What did you eat and how can I stay away from it?"

She frowns, flushing the toilet and leaning back against the cool wall. "Maybe it's the flu. In which case, you're already screwed."

Jeff shakes his head. "Go sleep. I'll tell the study group you're not coming to class today."

She has half a mind to tell him not to tell her what to do, but she feels too shitty to do anything but take his advice.

Week Six

This week starts a period of rapid cellular development for your baby-to-be, who looks like a mini tadpole, with a tiny head and tail. His or her eyes, ears and mouth have begun to form (though they're a little more Discovery Channel "creatures of the sea" documentary than Gerber Baby at this point). Your baby's heart is now beating to a regular beat, although it's still too faint to hear. His or her arm buds are just beginning to, well, bud. They look like teensy swollen bumps at this point. In a few days, they'll resemble itsy-bitsy flippers. Your baby has grown to ⅛ inch long—about the size of one of the chocolate sprinkles on your last cupcake.

She should have known better than to take a pregnancy test while at Greendale.

There she is, sitting on the toilet and waiting the full two minutes to see the results, when she realizes she left the box and the wrapper on the floor of the stall, and someone has just entered the bathroom. After a few moments of scrambling to pick everything up, Britta realizes it's Shirley, and this situation cannot end in a good way.

"Brit-ta," Shirley begins softly, adorably pronouncing both Ts. "Is there something you want to tell me?"

"No thanks," Britta hopes she'll just leave, but as expected, she doesn't. "I-I'm fine."

"I'm sure you are," Shirley pauses. "But you certainly don't want to celebrate this wonderful news alone, do you?"

Slowly, Britta unlocks the stall and goes to stand next to Shirley by the sinks. "I don't know if it's such wonderful news."

"Britta, either way it's wonderful," Shirley grins. "If the test is positive, you have a beautiful baby on the way and if it's not, then you get a second chance at becoming a good person!"

She ignores the half-insult. "It's positive."

Shirley claps excitedly. "Oh, that's nice! Our babies will grow up together, Britta! They'll be best friends! We can join a pregnancy yoga class and a single mother support group and an inter-mother babysitting service…"

Oh great, Britta thinks. This is even worse than I thought.

Week Seven

This week your baby's brain is growing at a mind-boggling 100 cells per minute within a see-through skull. If you could peer inside, you'd see those tiny brain cells growing and growing and growing. Your baby's face is becoming more defined this week. A tiny mouth hole (which will be ready to wail before you know it!), tongue, nostrils and ear indentations are visible. His or her eyes are wide open, but he doesn't have irises (the colored part) yet. Baby's arm buds are growing. At this point they look more like microscopic ping-pong paddles than arms. Baby's leg buds are also forming and will look like tiny paddles by the end of the week. The umbilical cord—the connection between your baby and the placenta—is now visible. Your baby is now between 1/3 and 1/4 inch long—about the length of a Tic Tac and about as heavy as an eyelash. While that sounds tiny, he or she is approximately 10,000 times bigger than at conception. Crazy, huh?

The smell of Annie's macaroni and cheese is making Britta nauseous.

Shirley slides her a small sleeve of lemon drops, winking conspiratorially as Britta thanks her graciously, knowing this is the only thing that has calmed her torturous stomach. Annie cocks her head to the side, shooting her a glance. "You aren't going to eat lunch?"

"I just… don't feel very well," Britta finishes lamely.

Annie looks concerned. "You should go to the doctor. There's no way the flu lasts for two weeks…"

The nineteen-year-old isn't unintelligent. Her eyes widen and she gasps, all Annie-like. "You're feeling nauseous, you're vomiting, you're falling asleep in class… Britta, are you pregnant?"

Rolling her eyes, the blonde nods. "Yes Annie. You caught me."

"Oh my God," Annie sits back against the chair. "Okay… This is sort of a lot to handle right now. So we don't who the father of Shirley's baby is-"

"Watch it, girl," Shirley warns.

"But who's the father of yours?" Annie asks, but Britta's keeping mum.

"You know what, we're going to keep this under wraps for now, since you two know and he doesn't yet," Britta says. "Just don't say anything. To anyone. Ever."

"Okay, relax Britta. Jeez," Annie states. "I'm great at keeping secrets."

Five minutes later, she squeals, "Ooh! I can throw a baby shower for both of you, now!"

Shirley claps giddily. Britta sighs. This might not end well…

Week Eight

This week, your little tadpole is starting to look a little bit more human. Your baby's eyelids, ears, upper lip and the tip of his soon-to-be adorable button nose are forming. He or she will also sprout webbed fingers and toes this week. Baby's tiny heart has separated into four distinct chambers and is really ticking now—at a rate of 150 beats per minute. That's more than twice your resting heart rate (even when Brad Pitt is on the screen). Your baby is now a little more than ½ inch long, about the size of the rock in Nicole Richie's engagement ring, and is about as heavy as the check Joel Madden wrote to pay for it.

Jeff and Pierce have yet to show up for study group, Shirley and Annie are whispering about something she doesn't care about, and Troy and Abed are making last minute revisions on their screenplay. But none of that is of any importance to Britta, because it's three o'clock in the afternoon and she's going to throw up. Again. Wasn't this supposed to be called morning sickness?

Halfway back from the bathroom, she decides she wants a cheeseburger.

Abed glances at her curiously. Britta frowns. "Don't judge me."

"Hmm," He comments. "You seem to be craving a lot of things you would never normally eat, lately. Meat, especially."

Britta's eyes widen. "W-What are you saying? Are you insinuating I'm pregnant? Because… because that's crazy!"

"I'm not saying you're pregnant, Britta. I would've thought you just decided that the vegetarian lifestyle was too limiting, therefore you've reverted back to you past ways of eating," Abed explains and then adds, "But now I think you're pregnant."

Britta scowls. "Damn it."

"It's okay," Abed pats her knee. "We all know that you and Jeff have been sleeping together since paintball."

The room falls silent. Shirley lets out a shocked prayer, Troy shouts, "WHAT?" Annie just screams. It's Abed's turn to frown. "Everyone looks so shocked. Did I misread something?"

"Okay," Britta says awkwardly. "So now you know it's Jeff's…"

Week Nine

Big news! You may be able to hear the heartbeat this week with the help of a Doppler, an ultrasound device that captures the chug-a-chug sound of baby's heart. Baby is growing nipples and hair follicles. His pancreas, gallbladder, bile ducts and anus are all in place, ready to poop and pee a dozen times a day when he's born. Your baby's head is half the size of his body and his little chin is tucked into his chest. His tiny tail is beginning to shrink away, giving Junior a more human and less amphibious look. Until now, all pre-babies look the same "down there." This week, however, your baby will begin to develop either male or female genitalia. While you won't be able to find out the gender of your baby for several more weeks, the version you'll give birth to is being developed right now. At this stage, your developing fetus is 1-inch in length, about the size of a martini olive (you remember martinis, don't you?) and weighs a mere 2 grams—a little less than a penny.

Her plan had been to tell Jeff first and then let the study group know, gently.

But as usual, nothing had gone according to plan.

Annie approaches her one day and takes a deep breath, saying, "I'm going to try and be as mature about this as possible. I can't say I don't have feelings for Jeff anymore, because that would be a lie. But I know he doesn't really want anything serious with me and even if he doesn't know it yet, he's obviously going to have something very serious with you."

Britta smiles as Annie continues. "Plus my parents would be really angry with me over this if they found out. My Mom would freak out and my Dad would probably kill Jeff… And I don't want your baby to grow up without a father… But anyway. I'm saying this because you're one of my best friends and I want us to still be able to be best friends without Jeff coming in between us."

She has the urge to laugh and she doesn't know why. Ugh, these stupid pregnancy hormones. But she doesn't. Britta hugs Annie instead. "Thanks Annie. I know that must've been hard for you to say."

Annie grins. "Plus, we can go shopping to all of those cute baby stores and in the maternity section, now!"

"You're getting ahead of yourself," Britta says because she honestly hasn't even thought of that yet.

"Oh come on, we already go shopping anyway!" Annie insists. "I know you're probably really overwhelmed right now. But I'm here to help!"

Britta bites her lip. "Can you help me figure out a way to tell Jeff?"

For the first time in all her years of planning and scheming, Annie Edison is stumped.

Week Ten

By the end of Week 10, your baby graduates from embryo to fetus. Your baby has finally morphed from a little tadpole into, well, a baby. Not only is the face more human-like, but that unflattering "tail" (really just the developing spinal cord) has disappeared, fusing into the spinal column. Your baby now has discernible fingers and toes, which will explain the steady stream of kicks and punches you'll feel down the line. The ears are beginning to take shape and the eyelids are no longer transparent. Baby's brain will make an incredible 25,000 new neurons every minute this week. And whether your baby is a boy or a girl, the kidneys are creating copious amounts of urine. Lucky for you, you won't have to change a diaper for another 30 weeks. Baby weighs only 4 grams and measures 1½ inches, about the size of a large Brazil nut.

Britta's not the best at breaking news to people, good or bad.

Despite the fact that she had kept her pregnancy a secret from him for about a month, she and Jeff continued to meet each other for sexual escapades, Britta declining only when he suggested they meet at a bar a couple times. They would meet, argue, make-out, and have sex routinely, these few times using a condom even though Britta knew guiltily that it didn't matter either way. This morning, she woke up to the warm sun on her bare skin, Jeff's arm tightly wrapped around her torso. Her nausea was slowly decreasing lately, but wasn't completely gone. Instead, the further and further along in her pregnancy, the guiltier she became. Shifting slightly, she slides out of his grasp, searching for her clothes as he eyes her sleepily.

"Where's the fire?" He yawns. "You're not even going to have breakfast with me?"

She stops midway through clasping her bra-which, by the way, is not fitting like it used to. Turning around slowly, she says, "So… Remember you freaked out you were when I told you I loved you last year?"

Jeff groans, remembering that tonight was in fact Greendale's end-of-the-year dance. "Yeah. You're not going to do that again tonight, are you? Because if so, I need some time to adequately prepare myself."

"I'm giving you five seconds, then I'm dropping bomb number two," Britta says and Jeff looks at her oddly. "I'm pregnant."

Jeff blinks at her, his expression matching the same one he gave her a year ago. "Oh. Well, damn."

"Yep," Britta sighs, leaning back against the headboard. "My reaction exactly."

Week Eleven

All of your baby's vital organs are now formed and functioning, so the risk of defects decreases this week as your baby becomes less susceptible to outside influences. Baby's ears are assuming their proper place this week and the fingernail and toenail beds are beginning to form. While testes or ovaries are completely formed now, don't start decorating the nursery. You won't be able to see your baby's gender for a few more weeks yet. In the next nine weeks, your baby will increase 30 times in weight and almost triple in length. Your baby now weighs a third of an ounce, about the same as two small, Starbucks-sized packets of sugar, is about 2 inches long, the length of one of those sugar packets. Isn't that sweet?

They somehow cope with the fact that they're going to become parents.

"We can do this," Jeff assures them- or, more himself. Britta chuckles in amusement from the passenger seat of his Lexus. "I mean, we can do this, right? Yeah. Yeah. We can totally do this!"

Britta asks, "Do you want to do this? Because you don't have to. You can totally walk away right now. I'm giving you the opportunity."

"I'm not going anywhere," He assures her, but somehow his voice betrays himself. It comes out shaky and unnaturally high. "Really. I can handle this. We can handle this."

She shakes her head as they pull into the clinic. Somehow, she has convinced him to come with her to her doctor's appointment; her OB/GYN has been bothering her for weeks now about meeting the child's father. They go through all of necessary paperwork, check her vitals, and talk about her early pregnancy symptoms before Dr. Hastings tells her to lie back so she can perform the ultrasound. Jeff is standing awkwardly to the side; Britta warns him to stay near her head and he doesn't know why- it's nothing he hasn't seen before.

But the awkwardness and anxiety fade away when the doctor brings the screen into focus. A tiny body rests in a mass of darkness, the small chest rising up and down slowly, the heartbeat minute but strong. The little arms and legs move in a jerking fashion, not fluidly, but adorably all the same. Apparently this was the first time any of them had seen the baby; at the last ultrasound, Baby Perry had been just a mass of cells with a rapidly beating heart.

"I'll give you two a moment," Dr. Hastings says quietly, exiting the room.

Britta's sobbing, but lately, she's always either really emotional or super pissed, so Jeff has kind of adapted to this behavior. He wraps an arm around her shoulder and brings her body into his, not taking his eyes off the screen, mesmerized by the sight of his child. His child… those words are going to take some getting used to.

But it's in that moment that Jeff decides he's in this for life.

Week Twelve

Baby's face is looking more human as his eyes have moved to the front of his head and his ears are in place. Your baby is able to swallow this week and practices on the amniotic fluid he or she floats in. Fetuses get oxygen from the blood pumped into their bodies by the placenta and don't breathe with their lungs. Don't forget to put a baby nail file on your registry—your little nugget's finger- and toenails are forming this week. The chin and nose are also becoming more defined. Junior has doubled in size over the past two weeks and now weighs almost ½ ounce. He's also now around 2 ½ inches long, about the length of your pinky finger or a Vienna sausage, which, in a few months, will be indistinguishable from one another.

The week after school lets out for the summer, Annie calls everyone and organizes a trip to a local Italian restaurant near the mall.

"So is it just me or has everyone noticed that Britta looks… well, a little more… plump?" Pierce asks the moment there is a lull in conversation.

"She's pregnant, Pierce," Shirley scolds, gripping her own swollen belly and shaking her head distastefully. "Seriously!"

"Pregnant?" Pierce wonders. "They figured out a way for lesbians to get each other pregnant?"

"Would you stop calling me a lesbian?" Britta insists. "Where the hell would you get that from, anyway?"

"Listen Tiny, I know I was pretty high on Valentine's Day, but it was definitely you making out with the lesbian on the dance floor!" Pierce shoots back and Jeff turns to her, amused.

"You made out with her?" He questions, a grin on his face. "I cannot wait to tell the kid that Mommy made out with a girl."

Britta glares murderously at him. "Do and die."

Week Thirteen

Your baby can make a fist and even suck his or her thumb this week—both skills that are super cute during infancy. Your baby's eyelids are fused shut to protect his eyes as they develop. His bones and skull are solidifying and soon itsy-bitsy ribs may appear. Baby's intestines are finally right where you want them—in his or her belly instead of poking out into the umbilical cord. Baby's tooth sockets are all loaded and ready to pop out baby teeth six or seven months after baby is born. Her vocal cords and larynx are completed now. Your baby-to-be now weighs about 20 grams and is nearly 3 inches long, or about the size of a Nutter Butter, covered in chocolate. OK, it doesn't have to be covered in chocolate, but isn't everything better that way?

The first week of June, Britta goes maternity clothes shopping with Annie and Shirley, mostly because she's beginning to show and even her baggiest clothes don't seem to cover her ever-growing stomach. She shuffles from store to store, picking at clothing but not really buying anything, and feeling like a whale already.

"Oh pumpkin," Shirley sympathizes. "You think you feel like a house now… Wait until you're around where I am. It doesn't get better from here. Only worse."

"Shirley! That's awful," Annie cries. "I think you look great, Britta. You really don't look that different yet."

"Give it a couple weeks," Britta says wryly. "So what do I do when I can't fit into regular clothes but I don't fit into maternity clothes either?"

"Ah, the awkward stage," Shirley chuckles as they enter the next store. "There isn't much you can do, sweetie, unless you know how to sew. Get creative!"

"Are you getting excited yet?" Annie asks, picking out things for Britta to try on, even if they aren't her style. There really is no style with maternity wear.

"Well, more nervous than excited," Britta states warily and then changes the subject before either of them can comment or inquire on her unsure feelings. "Speaking of excited, are Elijah and Jordan excited about their future sibling?"

"Yes! They're very excited to be big brothers," Shirley squeals and then adds, quietly, "Regardless of whether this baby is wholly theirs or… only half."

Annie and Britta share a glance. "Are you going to get a paternity test?"

"Of course!" Shirley exclaims. "You think I want my child going through life not knowing who his or her father is?"

"No, no of course not," Annie states gingerly. "But in a way… Don't you already kind of know?"

Shirley shakes her head, tight-lipped. "No. I do not. I don't care what Troy says. That voicemail doesn't prove anything."

"No," Britta sighs. "I guess not."