Читать книгу Karma Kameleon - Stephanie Haefner - Страница 7

Chapter 3

I freshened up, hoping no one could tell I’d been crying, and rejoined the party like nothing had happened. I sat with Preston on my lap as we opened fun new toys and clothes and the tricycle Rich and I had picked out. Camera flashes sparked from all over the room with wide smiles behind each and every one.

Cake time, and I sat Preston on the dining room table with a huge sugary confection glowing in front of him. With the smell of butter cream frosting in the air, our family and friends started an off-pitch rendition of Happy Birthday to You, and a small pain jabbed at my stomach. I met Rich’s gaze on the other side of the table. He noticed my panicked expression and his wide smile went flat.

As the room continued with “Happy birthday dear Preston,” the pain sharpened, like a shard of glass being jammed into my mid-section. I gripped one of the dining room chairs and fought to stay on my feet. Me crippling over in pain would only cause mass hysteria. And I didn’t want that for my boy’s big day.

Rich made it to my side before the song had ended. “Are you okay?”

“No,” I answered, cheers erupting.

I grabbed Marcus’s arm. “I…um…need to run to the store.”

“Right now?”

“Yes.”

Maybe he sensed something was wrong. I’m sure the expressions on my face and Rich’s were a giveaway. He said, “Okay,” and turned his attention back to the table and the birthday boy.

By the time Rich and I got into a cab, my underwear was soaked through. With blood. Intense cramping continued to hammer at my abdomen, in waves, like labor.

Forty-five minutes later, we sat in the ER exam room waiting for the on-call obstetrician to come in. But my pains had slowed considerably. That had to be a good thing, right?

A stout man with graying hair came in, followed by a woman wheeling a machine. I recognized it immediately–an ultrasound machine.

He didn’t say much, aside from “Hello. I’m Dr. Leiman,” and after sticking his hand inside me, asked if it hurt when he pressed on my stomach. It didn’t.

The ultrasound tech lubed the wand and inserted it. She moved it around and fiddled with the machine, and I struggled to interpret the grainy screen. It was dark and blank and silent. I didn’t hear the whump whump whump of a baby’s heartbeat. Maybe this ultrasound machine didn’t have sound.

The doctor turned to me. “I’m sorry Ms. Marshall. You’ve lost your baby.”

“No, that can’t be right. The pains have weakened. I feel better now.”

“I think you’re through the worst of it.” He turned to the screen and pointed to a gray blob. “See this here?”

I nodded.

“That’s most likely the fetus. But there’s no heartbeat.”

I strained my eyes, praying for something on the screen to move or blink or do something so this nightmare would end.

“You’ll continue to bleed for at least a week, maybe longer. And you’ll most likely expel some clots.”

Rich squeezed my hand so hard I thought he might break it.

The doctor removed his gloves. “We might need to wait a few days, but I don’t see the need for a D and C.”

“What’s that?” I wasn’t all up on the miscarriage lingo.

“It stands for dilation and curettage. Basically, if the tissue isn’t expelled, we need to go in and scrape your uterus.”

“Oh.” It sounded horrific.

“You said you were only eight to nine weeks. That’s very early in a pregnancy. We’ll do a blood test to check your HCG levels, but I want you to follow up with your OB. They’ll probably do more bloodwork to make sure the levels are decreasing like they should be. Take it easy a few days.” He stood and fidgeted with his white coat–his name embroidered in blue across the left side. “Do you have any questions?”

I shook my head. I couldn’t form even one cohesive thought. My body and brain were shutting down. Even my tear ducts had stopped working. Complete numbness had taken over and it wouldn’t even allow me to cry.

“Why did this happen?” Rich asked. His voice was strained, the way someone sounded when they were trying to talk and hold back sobs at the same time. The sight of his water-logged eyes jolted mine into perfect working order.

“I wish I had an answer,” the doctor said. “Most likely a genetic abnormality. Sometimes these things just happen. But many women go on to have healthy pregnancies after a miscarriage.”

He left, with the ultrasound tech right behind, and the room became eerily silent. How could an ER exam room be this crypt-like? On TV there was always some kind of drama, someone running around and breaking the silence.

Rich pulled the chair to the bed and sat down, laying his head on my lap. I stroked his hair as he cried, feeling utterly helpless. Tears cascaded down my own cheeks, but I felt the need to try and be strong. I couldn’t let myself break into a million pieces.

“It’s my fault,” he said through his misery, his body shaking.

“What? You heard the doctor. It’s nobody’s fault.”

He looked up at me. “We shouldn’t have had sex last night. I should have stopped.”

“Sex doesn’t cause miscarriages.”

“How do you know? What if I went in too deep?”

I really didn’t know.

“I’m so sorry, Lexi.”

I pulled him to me and we cried together.

“I loved our baby so much.”

* * * *

While we waited for the blood test results, I called Marcus. Thank God the party had ended and everyone had gone home. But not without asking a million questions as to my whereabouts.

“Lex, I didn’t know what to tell everyone. What happened?”

I struggled to find the words. “Um, the baby…”

“Is everything okay?”

“No.” My hand shook the phone against my ear and fresh tears trickled down my cheeks. “It’s gone.”

“Oh, Lexi. I’m sorry. What can I do?”

“Give Preston lots of kisses and tell him Mommy loves him. And please make sure he’s in bed before we get home. I don’t want him to see me like this.”

“I will. I love you and we’re here for anything you need.”

“I know. Thank you.”

The phone beeped when I pressed End, a piercing sound in such a quiet room. Rich returned, having run to the cafeteria for some strong coffee. His eyes, while dry, still held their red hue and the puffiness from crying.

“Nurse said the results should be back any minute, then we can get out of here.”

He just nodded and my heart broke. I wanted to pull him to me and tell him everything was going to be okay, though I wasn’t sure I believed it myself. But as devastating as the loss of our baby was for me, it had to be so much more for him. I had Preston at home, a baby I could hug and kiss and snuggle. This would have been Rich’s first child–a baby who would only call him Daddy.

The nurse came in with some paperwork. “Your blood work came back. The HCG level, which is the hormone produced during pregnancy, is lower than that of a normal healthy pregnancy. It should continue to decrease over the next few days until it’s at zero.” She gave a sympathetic smile. “I’m so sorry.”

I stared at her puppy dog scrubs and the vision began to blur. I’d held onto a small spark of hope that maybe the OB had been wrong. The ultrasound machine had been broken. I wanted the nurse to tell me my levels were exactly where they should be for this stage of my pregnancy. But she didn’t. She just confirmed what we already knew.

“I have your discharge papers here. You can leave whenever you feel up to it. No rush.”

She left and we were alone again.

Rich stood and tossed his empty Styrofoam cup into the trash. “We should get going.”

“Yeah. Can you grab my clothes?”

He reached for the pile and turned to me with another horrid reminder of what we’d gone through. My bloodied underwear, now dried and brown, sat staring at us.

“Please throw those away,” I begged and he did without a second of hesitation.

But my dress had a huge blood stain on it too. Without even asking, Rich balled it up and tossed it. He covered his face with his hands and rubbed a few times, then raked his fingers through his hair.

“What do we do now?”

I buzzed the nurse’s station and the same compassionate woman came strolling in. After explaining the clothing situation, she brought in a set of pale blue scrubs. I put them on with my beige Prada platforms and searched for my purse. Rich pulled it from under the chair in the corner and set it on the bed. He took me in his arms, squeezing me tight, as if he were holding on for dear life. Like he was falling, his life about to spiral into an endless pit, my body his only way of surviving.

I pulled away and wiped the tears from his cheeks. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

* * * *

Seven AM came way too soon. The alarm went off and instead of yawning and stretching and bouncing out of bed to wake my beautiful baby boy, I slammed my hand on the alarm and knocked it on the floor. Which didn’t even turn it off. The beeping continued and now I had to get out of bed to turn it off. I threw the comforter and stood, feeling the gush of liquid in my crotch. More blood had oozed out, reminding me the events of the previous day did happen.

I grabbed the alarm clock and beat it into submission, then slammed it on the nightstand, knocking over the picture of Rich, Preston and I. It landed face-side down and after I’d picked it up, relief filled me as I found it unharmed. I sat down on the bed and stared at the picture. Rich came behind me and kissed the back of my neck.

“You okay?”

“Yeah. Sorry I wigged out like that.”

“It’s understandable. I’d tear the whole place apart if it’d make me feel any better.”

“Preston’s one-year check up is today. I have to call my doctor too, and see when I can get in. I don’t think the receptionist comes in ’til nine though.”

“Call me after you make the appointment. I have a couple meetings today, but leave a voicemail. I want to go with you and I’ll need to tell my boss so he can guarantee me the day off.”

“You’re going to work today?”

He sighed and kissed me again. “I thought of calling in sick, but I think staying busy will help, ya know?”

I agreed. I had lots to keep my mind miscarriage-free, or at least, things to try and keep my mind occupied. “I’ll call you as soon as I know.”

Rich got up and started his morning routine. Many mornings I joined him in the shower and we’d get a quickie in before breakfast. Not today. I got out of bed and headed to Preston’s room.

He’d been asleep when Rich and I got home the night before, as requested. I’d peeked in on him, though–his angelic face with a smile, dreaming happy baby dreams. I’d pressed a kiss to his head and felt the emptiness of my womb. Before my sobs could start again, I’d scooted out.

When I’d returned to the living room, Rich sat with Marcus and Kevin, a bottle of Jack on the table. Rich and Kevin had already been sipping on theirs. Marcus had poured another glass and handed it to me. I’d shaken my head at first, but needed something to dull the ache in my gut. I took the glass and snuggled into Rich. Marcus had poured a fourth and sat back, leaving the bottle open. He’d known it would get more use before it needed its cap.