We’re Expecting!: Fifty Shades Freed Chapter Twenty

Posted on June 4, 2013 by


Man, there’s just so many exciting things I can say at the beginning of this post! In Matthew news, yesterday I started my summer internship and went to a concert by my favorite band, so this whole “real life” thing that’s supposed to follow college graduation doesn’t really feel real yet. Also the house I’m renting with a few other interns is ridiculous, but I’m gonna save that for my next post. Yeah! Suspense!

Also, coincidentally, this week’s chapter of Fifty Shades Freed is also covered by new friend of the blog Sarah Bynoe in an episode of her Say Wha?! podcast, which – a lot like this blog – takes bad books and tears them to pieces, but as part of a live comedy show, so definitely take a listen. Especially if you want to hear this chapter scathingly and hilariously ridiculed again, because this shit suuuuuucks.

Chapter Twenty

We encountered a pretty for serials cliffhanger at the end of the last chapter when Ana discovered she was pregnant.

What? No. No. No. Fuck.

So, yeah, this chapter is about that

I gape at Dr. Greene, my world collapsing around me. A baby. A baby. I don’t want a baby … not yet. Fuck. And I know deep down that Christian is going to freak.

Right, let’s talk about that. Based on what you know about Ana’s relationship with her new husband/first boyfriend/first person she’s ever actually been involved with/guy she’s known for a few months:

Remember your answers for the end of the post. This is a test of your reading comprehension abilities. Meanwhile, Ana’s doctor is testing her listening comprehension abilities.

“I thought . . . I thought this was a reliable form of contraceptive.”
Dr. Greene arches a brow. “It normally is, when you remember to have the shot,” she says coolly.
“I must have lost track of time.” Christian is going to freak. I know it.

 Oh Ana! You and your emotionally abusive husband you have to remind us you’re scared of a couple times per page and people still think he’s the literary romantic figure of the decade! You’re a hoot!

Perhaps I shouldn’t tell Christian. Perhaps I . . . perhaps I should end this. I halt my thoughts on that dark path, alarmed at the direction they’re taking. […] Tears spring to my eyes. What am I going to do?


Apparently the modern day equivalent is a man whose wife is so terrified of his anger she’ll consider lying about having an abortion. Ladies.

Christian is going to freak, I know, but how much and how far, I have no idea. His words haunt me. “I’m not ready to share you yet.”

He said that in Chapter Seven. That was when I guessed that Ana was going to get pregnant.

The doctor wants to do an ultrasound. E L James wants to remind the reader this is erotic fiction.

“This is a transvaginal ultrasound. If you’re only just pregnant, we should be able to find the baby with this.” She holds up a long white probe.
Oh, you have got to be kidding! […]
Slowly and gently she inserts the probe.
Holy fuck!

I don’t know what’s more depressing, that E L James can’t shake erotica diction even when she’s talking about an ultrasound (“Slowly and gently”, “long white penis probe”), or that she can’t even do it well.

 “There,” she murmurs. She presses a button, freezing the picture on the screen, and points to a tiny blip in the sepia storm.
It’s a little blip. There’s a tiny little blip in my belly. Tiny. Wow. I forget my discomfort as I stare shell-shocked at the blip.

She uses the word “blip” about a thousand more times in this chapter in case you were worried about that.

The little blip is a baby. […] I have a blip, a little blip.

And okay. I get it. Sometimes people have stupid nicknames for things, and this is a very emotional thing for Ana. That’s not the problem. The problem is E L James beats the reader over the head with this fucking “Blip” thing. Also, Ana’s cray cray.

my father has been in a major car accident, and there’s Jack Hyde the nutcase trying to make out that I sexually harassed him. I suddenly have an uncontrollable urge to giggle. See what you’ve done to me, Little Blip! I caress my belly.

Ana asks her assistant Hannah whether she moved or cancelled any doctor appointments she had. Hannah’s all “Yeah, two or three. Why?” and Ana tells her to, you know, tell her when she does that sort of thing, so, uh, yeah, Hannah’s kind of a bad assistant.

I was gonna look for a gif of this, but the internet at the house I'm renting is terrible and I'm not gonna do that.

I was gonna look for a gif of this, but the internet at the house I’m renting is terrible and I’m not gonna do that.

Ana wonders when she should tell Christian and comes up with some fucking awful ideas.

When will I tell him? Tonight? Maybe after sex? Maybe during sex.

What’s really scary is her reason for deciding maybe not to tell her husband she’s pregnant during sex.

No, that might be dangerous for both of us.

Ana worries during the rest of the day, straight up saying she’s frightened about Christian’s anger multiple times. Like, as an internal dialogue following the dozens of times he asks her if anything is wrong.

Have you eaten today?” […] Christian scolds me, annoyed.
Well, I haven’t eaten because I know you’re going to go bat-shit crazy when I tell you I’m pregnant.

Speaking of when Ana tells him she’s pregnant:

His brow furrows with incomprehension. “How?” […] His stance changes immediately, his eyes hardening to flint. “Your shot?” he snarls. […]
I just gaze at him unable to speak. Jeez, he’s mad—really mad.
“Christ, Ana!” He bangs his fist on the table, making me jump, and stands so abruptly he almost knocks the dining chair over. “You have one thing, one thing to remember. Shit! I don’t fucking believe it. How could you be so stupid?”

What?! Christian Grey isn’t being supportive and giving Ana 100% of the blame for her pregnancy?! WHAT?!

“Oh fuck this!” Christian bellows dismissively and holds his hands up in a gesture of defeat. He turns on his heel and stalks toward the foyer, grabbing his jacket as he leaves the great room. […] I am alone with the silence—the still, silent emptiness of the great room. I shudder involuntarily as I gaze numbly at the closed doors. He’s walked out on me. Shit!

Remember your answer to the question at the beginning of the post, because it’s time for the follow-up question!

I’ll let the results speak for themselves.

Christian comes back drunk really late at night. Ana tries to get drunk Christian Grey in bed to sleep it off and he keeps trying to turn it into foreplay and Ana laughs at her playful, drunk husband who just walked out on her and got drunk in response to her telling him that she’s pregnant. It’s uncomfortable. But not as uncomfortable as Ana gets when she finds out where he’s been.

his BlackBerry falls to the floor. I pick it up and inadvertently unlock it. It opens on the texts screen. I can see my text, and above it, another. […]
*It was good to see you. I understand now.
Don’t fret. You’ll make a wonderful father.*
It’s from her. Mrs. Elena Bitch Troll Robinson.
Shit. That’s where he went. He’s been to see her.