Okay everyone... this is my first story. In English at least. I'm German. So if the grammar and spelling isn't correct all the time, I apologizes in advance.

I've been inspired to this story by my favorite book "Küss mich, Baby" by Silke Neumayer.

I don't own anything about the O.C or "Küss mich, Baby".

Rated M, just to be safe...

I should maybe mention that it's written in Summers point of view.

Enjoy and please review!

First Month

Oh my God!

Oh yeah!

Yes! Yes! Yeees!

Exactly there! Oh my God!

Seth keeps touching me at that spot! Exactly that spot ... it drives me crazy every time! And somewhere there it must have happened. I guess.

It was usual, good, old Thursday night sex. Nothing special really. Just the way you do it after more then seven years of marriage. Our non-stop-sex-nights had been replaced by non-stop-sleep-nights a long time ago.

Somehow, I presumed, I should have felt something. Some kind of contact to the universe or maybe mother earth.

A pinch in my abdomen would've done it to. But nothing! Nada! Zero! A friend told me, there are women who can not just tell the exact day but the second it happens. Well I guess that chicks also dance naked in the woods, at full moon.

I definitely do not belong to that kind of women! And I didn't notice anything - at least for the first two weeks.

I'm pregnant.

Knocked up.

Expecting.

I've got a bun in the oven.

I'm going to have a baby.

Call it whatever you want - it was a accident - or not, that depends on the way you're looking at it.

But I think every woman would understand me. I'm thirty two years and three month old. I'm living with my husband Seth Cohen in our own little house in a small town called Newport.

Ticktock ticktock ticktock - my biological clock has been ticking so loud, lately, I barley could sleep at night anymore. First I couldn't see what that all meant. Instead of sexy men-butts all I noticed for the last few weeks were were sweet baby-butts.

When I held my cousins (twenty four - basically a child herself)newborn daughter a month ago I actually started crying.

I don't think childless women in their thirties can be designated as sane. Honestly, I think we shouldn't even be allowed to drive.

An article I read at my doctors office kind finished me off. It said that women in over thirty five are basically infertile. And if they none the less wanna have babies they get to take so much hormones - they pop out triplets at least.

I don't wanna triplets! One would be enough at the moment.

I didn't tell Seth about my wish for a baby. He would've probably freaked out. He hasn't been recovering from the shock of me asking him if he ever wanted children.

I never gonna forget that look on his. That time we were dating for a year and fresh out of college. (we used to date in high school, but we broke up after we got accepted in colleges on different coast of the countries. After coming back to Newport we hooked up again and there we were.) We didn't use a condom that time cos I was already on the pill. After I assured him that I took it every day we never talked about having a baby again. He made absolutely sure that I'd take it every day for about a month past that.

Statistics say, that at my age, women need at least a year to get pregnant after stop taking the pill. So I thought, why don't do it now? That also would give me a whole year to prepare Cohen for parenting.

I know he would make a great dad! Once he watched my cousins five year old son.

You can't really blame him for the boy seeing dead people at night after that. The little guy replaced the "Sponge Bob" with the "The sixth sense"-DVD. Technical genius that boy.

No, for real. He would be a great father. He just doesn't know it yet.

So I just stopped being on the pill - without telling Seth.

But that's not the only thing that makes me guilty. After the sex, that specific Thursday night, I did a handstand under the shower.

I once read that this is supposed to help the whole conception thing. And it is kind of logical I think.

When you get up after sex all that stuff - thanks to gravity - comes out again (every women knows what I'm talking about - eww!)

So I kind of designed a elevator for those little guys. And it seems like one of them got out on the right floor.

After that Thursday night I just displaced all of that and acted like nothing happened. Still I flushed my pill in the toilet every morning - and felt like a criminal.

Why don't let the men take that harmful stuff every day? Okay, they'd never do it. Safe sex is still women business. So they can blame us if anything goes wrong. Exactly.

I refreshed my make-up and got into the next mall. South coast plaza to be exact. I got myself a new pair of Manolo Blahniks. I almost cried when I found them. My credit card cried too. And I'm going to receive a letter from my bank. But there is nothing better against bad feelings then a new pair of shoes. Well nothing but two new pair of shoes.

There was probably nothing to worry about anyway. Next month I would start with pill again and have a serious POC with Cohen( problem orientated conversation) about family, babies and so on.

In the meantime I was going out every night - with and without Seth.

I drank about twenty four Cosmopolitans and three bottles of Chardonnay every night.

I wasn't pregnant anyway, just paranoid.

Work really kept me on my toes that weeks. I worked as a Journalist at a not so popular magazine. Watching "Sex & the City" a lot I decided to major journalism. I saw myself as Carrie Bradshaw writing slippery column about the life in Newport.

Well, what I do know is make up stories to snapshots of stars.

Marissa Cooper my best friend celebrated her thirty third birthday that time. Everybody who knows Coop knows that her party's are basically suicide. Only the best survive.

I came home at five in the morning with a lot of alcohol running through my system. The whole world was spinning around me. I sat in the empty bathtub and sang Thank you for being a friend noisy, and with the absolute wrong lyrics (I kind of mixed it up with That's what friends are for) until a sleepy Cohen showed up. He had to leave "I have an important meeting tomorrow" the party early.

"Come on honey, lets get you into bed!"

He yawned a few times and tried to get the hairbrush, I used as a microphone, out of my hands.

"What if, I don't wanna go?"

"You do want to, believe me. You gonna thank me a lot tomorrow!"

So he pulled me out of the tub and I looked at him. He wasn't shaved and he looked incredible sexy (remember I drank a lot that night).

"You don't want it either! But you also gonna thank me!"

"I would thank you if you would come to bed with me now!"

"Can't. I'm sick. But you don't have to worry. That's totally normal because I'm pre--"

That was when I saw it. Blood in my pantie. Little red stains. There was just one interpretation: Not pregnant!

"Oh god... Oh god... Oh god... Oh god... Oh god... ", I'm looking at my pantie.

Cohen is looking at me like I lost it.

"My period."

And then I threw up on his favorite pajamas.

Somehow Seth made it to shower the both of us and get me into bed. I love him. He has definitely father qualities.

I had a huge hangover the next day. I put in a tampon that had the size of a sheep. Darn out like that I took of and got the best satin pajama for Cohen.

Not pregnant. Not pregnant. Not pregnant.

"Sandra Bullock - not pregnant" "Jennifer Aniston - not pregnant" "Angelina Jolie - not pregnant"

Wait a second... the last one was wrong. I'm typing faraway on my keyboard. Not pregnant. What did I expect? That it would click after 400 years of being on pill? That I'm a fertility wonder? That this damn column would write itself?

At noon all the actresses and models I was supposed to write about not pregnant and everything was alright.

I'm probably infertile anyway. All those years of fumbling around with protection - useless.

All the condoms, diaphragms, the counting... all useless.

All the money I spend on protection ... I probably could afford a new car by now.

Crab! And nobody tells! How are you supposed to know you can get pregnant if you never were?

It's absurd: You use protection so you don't get pregnant, but maybe you wouldn't get pregnant without protection.

Really stupid the whole thing.

After two cheeseburgers with chili-fries and a milkshake for lunch (I know way to much calories and senseless eating, but it was delicious - I'm just gonna quit eating for the next two years) I was sure to be ill.

Uterus-, ovarian- or bladder cancer. That was the reason.

I would never have children. Never. Over and out.

It's happening to the most women over thirty five. Uterus? Ovaries? They just take space and ignite or develop some other ugly things. Let's just take that stuff out. But most of that women already have babies. Not like me. I could cry!

At 6:00 pm I was fine again. I was happy! I was not pregnant. Wonderful. Caroline and the others are going to a after work-party. And I was coming with them. Drinking, dancing, having fun. Who wants to be pregnant anyway? Ruin your life with some sniveling 1.5 feet?

Resign all the amusements? Alcohol. Sleep off. Wild sex. Spontaneous trips to Paris.

Well everything that's fun. Was I insane to want a child?

Thank god that thing passed by me. Not pregnant.

Well, it's a wonderful life.

That's when I realized I didn't exchange the tampon the whole day without noticing the ugly wet feeling between my legs.

Getting this thing out was a forced a lot of strength. No sign of period. A few blood drops on the top. Really suspicious.

Anya one of my colleagues knocked against the door.

"Come on Summer! Work has ended like three hours ago! Everybody is waiting for you!"

I muttered something unintelligible and checked the tampon again.

"Summer, are you okay? Are you sick? Can I get you anything?", Anya was still jouncing at the door.

"Nah! I'm okay!"

The tampon ended in the rubbish - nothing, no blood.

I flushed the toilet and fixed my skirt. At the party I wasn't really myself.

That means I ran in between two drinks about ninety two times to the toilet to check on my period.

The music was loud and everybody seemed to have a great time.

Anya tried to get me on the dance floor a few times. Sometime I caught her talking about me. Not in a nice way - I didn't care.

Something wasn't right, wasn't right at all.

After another hour of running to the bathroom I decided to go home. And do what Scarlett O'Hara would suggest.

"Let's think about that tomorrow."

The next day I woke up at noon. Cohen had gone to the office quiet a while ago. Today was my day off.

The first ten seconds awake were great. It seemed to be a nice warm summer day and it was my day off. I was lying there with my eyes closed and thought about shopping? Going to the beach? Calling Coop? Get breakfast? My period?

That moment I practically stood in bed. I sleep without panties so there had got to be something. Again: Nothing. Nada. Zero.

Well that didn't look so good. I got up and explored my pantie form yesterday. Clearly there was blood on it.

Okay... not the first time that happened. Maybe I'm just a little bit late because of the way I've been acting the last few weeks. Maybe that was menopause already?

When does that start anyway?

I probably should just go and get something for breakfast.

Somehow I found myself in the drugstore - still with an empty stomach.

Ahead of me was an old women around her seventies. She seemed like she wanted to buy out the whole store. Well maybe drugstores are the Gucci and Prada of old people. You start once you can't stop anymore.

"... please don't forget the heart pills and ... oh the drops for my liver. They really help after dinner... even if my doctor won't prescribe them anymore..."

The druggist opened drawer after drawer and stacked the whole stuff in front of the old lady.

"... did you already pack up the pill for my circulatory problems? ..."

The druggist seemed to get more happy with every order... while I've been waiting for a half an hour already and started to fall asleep while standing.

"And then I get two packs of aspirin and a pregnancy test."

I was up immediately.

Did she say pregnancy test? That women was - even with three face-lifts - at least seventy. The druggist packed all up in a big bag and the old lady left the store with a big smirk.

Finally the druggist turned to me: "May I help you?"

I was starring at him.

"The old lady... I mean that woman..."

"The pregnancy test?"

I nodded.

"Unfulfilled desire for a child. People can get really strange. Some women take one every week. Once I had a man who took one for himself."

Five Minutes later I found myself back on the street - with some packs of condoms in my hands. I honestly don't know why. I swear I tried to say: "I'd like to have a pregnancy test" but somehow it just wouldn't pass my lips. I was under shock. I saw myself buying a test every week for the rest of my life.

Anyway there I was, no test and forty bucks less in my purse.

Three drugstores later it had worked out. I owned my very own pregnancy test. My feet hurt like hell. There I was thinking that getting breakfast would be the perfect way to walk in my Manolo's. I limed to my car.

I think there isn't a more moving moment in a womans life. Well maybe the first time of having sex or spend your whole salary on a pair of shoes.

I was starring at this little stick and my whole childhood was running in front of my inner eye. Okay, that was I lie. My brain was total empty.

And then it appeared: One small vertical line. Minus.

Oh my God! Not pregnant! Not pregnant!

I got up and danced in my bathroom. Then I stopped with my little happy-dance. Not pregnant. Shit!

That meant I had to try next month again... ah.. what the hell. Rome wasn't build in one day either. And making a baby is way more fun then having it.

Then I went to the living room. Time for chocolate.

But wait a second - wasn't there a very, very small horizontal line? Nonsense. I threw the stick into the garbage can.

Two chocolate bars later I got up again and digged it out of the rubbish. There was clearly a plus on it.

I slipped into my comfortable sneakers (my feet still hurt like hell) and run out to the next drugstore.

The druggist smiled dirty at me. Fuck! I totally forgot, I already was here today!

"Need more?", he was still grinning and glanced at the condoms.

"No... thank you... I ... I need a pregnancy test. One of every single type you've got to be exact."

He stared at me like I lost it.

"A pregnancy test?"

"Yes! And could you please hurry? I'm busy!"

"Well that was fast!"

Then he put twelve packs up in front of me.

A blue cross. A pink cross. A red circle. Another blue cross... all the sticks are lying in front of me, all with the same result.

I'm pregnant. I'm pregnant. I'm pregnant.

I'M PREGNANT!

After messing up the bathroom with a little happy-dance I got down on the cold tiles.

How could that happen to me?

To me?

Review please! A lot of reviews Fast update! )