Epiphany (11 page)

Finally, they’re done with their jobs. The young woman assists me back into the wheelchair
and pushes me into the hall where we’re met by Skylar.

“How’d it go?” he asks.

“We got everything we need. It’s all been sent up to the radiologist for analysis.
Once he’s done, he’ll send everything down to her doctor.”

Skylar takes over wheeling me down the hall, the girl just a few paces ahead, leading
the way back to the ER. I’ve been to this hospital many times and never realized
how big it was. Thank God for her, if not, we’d end up in the morgue or something.

We make it back to my room, consisting of walls made out of sheets, without seeing
any dead bodies or zombies. Skylar lifts me from the chair and lays me on the bed.
Taking the plastic chair next to me, we impatiently wait for the doctor. At this
point, I’m kind of hoping for a kidney infection versus the other possibilities.
Meningitis does not sound like a good time whatsoever.

Thirty minutes and two infomercials later, the doctor pulls the curtain back, stepping
into the room with another woman in a white coat I’ve yet to meet.

“Ms. Adams, this is Dr. Ciak. She’s the on-call OBGYN and here to offer you a consult.”
What?
OBGYN?
What the hell do I need her for? Unless …. Oh shit.

“What’s an OBGYN?” Skylar whispers in my ear.

“Obstetrics and gynecology,” I mutter, not breaking eye contact with the woman who’s
wearing an unreadable face.

“I get the gynecology part. What’s the obstetrics shit about?”

“She’s a doctor for pregnant women.”

“You’re pregnant?” he pulls my attention. Turning to the pair of doctors, “She’s
pregnant?”
Looking back at me, glee pouring out of him.

“
No. No. No. Don’t get excited. Back pain, stomach pain … this isn’t good. This
is actually really, really bad. Skylar don’t let it be real. Ignore it. Ignore
them
,” I plead with my eyes.

“Mira, you are pregnant, however, you are in the beginning stages of a miscarriage.
We can stop it. There’s no guarantee, but we can try,” Dr. Ciak finally speaks, her
voice low and without emotion. Her bedside manner is killing me.

“Yes. Please. Do everything you can. Please,” Skylar’s tells her, his eyes full
of hope. “Mira, we’re going to have a baby.”

Leaning over the metal railing of the gurney, he places a loud, wet kiss to my forehead.
His joy is making it even harder for me to tell him that this isn’t good news. Especially
when I throw in the fact that my mother had four miscarriages before she finally carried
me to term. Pregnancy in my family just isn’t the happy occasion it is for most couples.
It’s full of pain and heartache.

“I’m going to prescribe you a progesterone cream you’ll need to apply. This will
help keep your body from
miscarrying
the fetus. Then the rest is pretty simple.
Prenatal vitamins, bed rest and a limited diet.
Again, there’s no guarantee this is going to work, but it’s your best chance to
carry to term and deliver a healthy baby.”

“Sweets, did you hear her?” Skylar says, breaking me from my mindless stare. Putting
my hands over my stomach, I turn my face toward the doctor.

“How far along am I?”

“Well, you’ll still need to consult with a regular OB. I would suggest someone specializing
in high risk pregnancies. But to answer your question, from the tests I’ve seen,
I would guess you’re about 5-7 weeks, pretty early on.”

Rubbing my index finger softly over my flesh where my future child lives, the emotions
hit me all at once. Crying, I look up at Skylar who also has moisture built up against
his bottom lid, smiling at me like he’s just won the lottery.

“We’re gonna have a baby,” he says again, taking my lips in a light kiss.

“We are.”

“I’ll have your discharge papers brought in soon, as well as your prescription, and
then you’ll be good to go,” the ER doctor says, walking out behind the OBGYN.

After I’m discharged, the ride home is uncomfortably silent. I don’t want to say
anything to take away Skylar’s happiness, but I don’t want to be the one to burst
his bubble. I’m probably going to let the new doctor we have an appointment with
in two days be the one to knock him down a few rungs.

“I’m surprised you’re not on the phone with your mom and Kylee. You couldn’t wait
to call them after I proposed.”
My ever-observant Skylar, pinning the tail exactly on the donkey’s ass.

“I don’t want to tell anyone until we’re out of the first trimester. This … the whole
miscarriage thing … it’s scary and I don’t want anyone to get excited or happy for
us until we know if I’m going to be able to carry this baby.”

“Let’s just live in the now, okay? We’re having a baby. I’ve always known that I
wanted you to be the mother of my children and now, well, you got a little Skylar
inside of you.” I’m pretty sure he’s legitimately bouncing in the driver’s seat as
we speed down the highway.

Skylar makes a point to carry me through the parking garage, in the elevator and back
inside our apartment. Once he’s cut the hospital bracelet off my arm, he climbs in
bed next to me, resting his head next to my belly and softly speaking to our baby
that may, or may not make it.

“You gotta promise to not make your mama too sick, little guy … or girl. She likes
to eat all the time, and she’ll be pretty cranky if she can’t have her sandwiches.”
I snort, softly chuckling. Of all the things he could have said to my still flat
stomach, he’s already giving orders to our baby.

Our baby.

With my OBGYN appointment scheduled for New Year’s Eve, the twenty-four hour wait
to go to my new doctor seems like it’s taking forever. I did go against my earlier
advice to myself about telling
anyone and called my mom. I figure if there’s anyone who will understand what I’m
going through, or might go through, it’s her.

When I called and told her about my pregnancy, her and Chip came home a day early
and her first stop was my apartment. We spent a few hours not talking, just staring
at each other. I know she’s trying to contain her happiness and at the same time
not seem gloom, but just her being here, rubbing my head, makes all the difference.

“Just because you don’t want to start picking out baby names doesn’t mean you can’t
be a little delighted about being pregnant. I know, better than anyone, what it feels
like to not know if you’re actually going to have this baby, but it’s still a baby
…
your
baby. You’ll regret it if you don’t start feeling and enjoying this moment. If
this baby survives and you have him or her, you’re going to kick yourself in the ass
if you didn’t at least crack a smile.”

“I know, Mom. I’m trying. I really am. I think I’ll feel better after my appointment
and we have something more concrete. The doctors in the ER aren’t really in the business
of giving final diagnosis. It’s always, ‘consult your primary care physician’.”

“Just take it easy. You have your appointment tomorrow. Let’s not worry until then.
Today, let’s eat whatever you want. There’s only one time in a woman’s life that
she can gorge on anything without judgment. Take advantage of it.”

Leave it to my mother to fuck shit up in my kitchen. And not in a bad way, a special
kind of way that only mothers can do. She’s successfully managed to make fried ham
and cheese sandwiches, cream of broccoli soup and a batch of double fudge brownies
in a matter of an hour.

After stuffing as much as I possibly could in my face, another bite will more than
likely make me vomit. Resting back in the chair, I place my hand over my slightly
bloated belly and rub gently, praying that my baby will make it and I’ll get a chance
to meet this precious little soul.

The good mother than she is, cleaned and put away all the dishes before she left.
Skylar said he had something really quick to take care of for the club. So while
waiting for him to get home and figure out our dinner plan, I decide to take a quick
nap.

The sun’s just starting to set when Skylar’s voice interrupts my sleep fest.

“Mi, where are you?” he calls from the living room.

“I’m coming. Hold on.”

“Nope.
Bed rest.
Give me two seconds. Keep your ass in bed.”

Walking through the threshold of our bedroom, he has his hands behind his back and
a cheesy grin on his face. This isn’t going to be good whatever it is.

“So, I bought you something today,” he says, rocking back and forth on his heels.

“Yeah.
What is it?” I ask, skeptically.

“Well, it’s not really for
you
.”

“Skylar …” I growl, ready to protest.

“Don’t get all pissy yet. It’s cute and I think you’re gonna love it. No stress,
remember?” My mind’s reeling. I can’t handle him buying any baby clothes or anything.

“Let me see it.” I hold out my hand, waiting for him to deposit whatever he’s purchased.

“It’s for us.”

Pulling his hands from behind his back, he hands me a small box. Staring up at him,
I’m not sure what to think. Lifting the lid, a silver picture frame glistens in the
late afternoon sun. In the most beautiful font the bottom of the frame reads ‘My
First Picture’ with a baby rattle before and after the words.

Where a picture would go, Skylar’s taken the liberty of putting my discharge papers
from the hospital behind the glass.

“They didn’t take any ultrasound pictures last night, so this is the best I could
do. When we get his … or her
… sonogram, we can put it in here. So, no matter what happens, we can see our baby
whenever we want.”

Overwhelming emotion takes over my body. I’m smiling at the thoughtfulness of Skylar,
dying inside because I don’t know if I’ll be able to give him this baby, or any baby,
and laughing at how silly my discharge papers look in this frame. These pregnancy
hormones are going to be the death of me.

Pulling him down in bed with me, I wrap my arms around his neck, nuzzling and placing
light kisses just below his ear lobe.

“This is the most perfect present you could have ever bought. It’s beautiful and
sentimental. You, Skylar, make me the happiest woman in the world. How did I get
so lucky?”

“Well, you played your cards right, I guess,” he jokes, nipping at my shoulder.

Now, this is the part of the pregnancy hormones that should make every girl happy.
Willing and ready to go at the drop of a time.
Unfortunately for me, sex is out of the question. It might be for my whole pregnancy,
or at least until I get my clear.

Huffing, I pull back from Skylar and pat the mattress next to me, where he follows
directions and lies down beside me. We spend the rest of the day and night in bed,
with Skylar catering to my every want and need, until I pass out with a carton of
Chinese food on my nightstand. Sky tried to take it away and put it in the fridge,
but I stopped him. I mean, who’s to say that in the middle of the night I won’t wake
up with a hankering for some chicken fried rice? Stranger things have happened.

So, I drift off to sleep, mentally preparing myself for the doctor’s visit in the
morning. Everything happens for a reason. If there’s one thing I’ll take from this
life lesson, it’s that Skylar is more now than ever the perfect man for me.
Kind, attentive and loving.
What more could a girl ask for?

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Skylar

It’s not really easy to be a man in this kind of situation. Where I’m freaking out
and wondering what the doctor is going to say about the baby, I can’t show any of
that. I need to be strong and in control of my emotions for Mira. She needs me to
be her rock. I’ll be damned if I let her down.

Our big New Year’s Eve plans have been busted wide open. A few days ago, I would
have said we’d be at home, toasting with some champagne. Not the case any longer,
I slip into my shoes and check my watch. It’ll have to be
sparkling grape juice and watching the ball drop on TV … and I’m not upset about it
for one second.

“We need to leave in five if we’re gonna be on time,” I yell through the bathroom
door.

“I’m coming.” Flinging open the door, Mira’s standing in front of me wearing a tank
top and underwear. I’m also not sure why she’s got mascara on only one eye.

“Sweets, you’ve been in there for twenty five minutes. What’ve you been doing? We
gotta go.” I pull her to the edge of the bed and into my lap.

“I almost don’t wanna know. If she says that I won’t carry the baby, I don’t wanna
know. I can’t take it. I’m so fucking scared,” Mira cries into my neck, clawing
at my back.

“Mira.
I’m scared, too,” I whisper, showing a little of my fear. “We’re going to get through
this. Everything happens for a reason, right? If we have this baby, another baby,
or no baby at all … it changes nothing.
Us against the world.
Right?”

“Right,” she mutters, wiping the tears from her cheeks. “Give me two minutes and
I’ll be ready.”

Running back into the bathroom, she doesn’t bother shutting the door. A quick rinse
of her face, removing whatever makeup she had on and throwing her hair in a ponytail,
she comes back in the bedroom. Mira shoves herself into a pair of yoga pants and
a baggy tee shirt. As much as I love when she goes all out, taking hours to get ready,
this is when she’s most beautiful—when I can see the real her.

“Okay, let’s go.” Mira stands at the front door, tapping her foot like she’s been
waiting on me for the past twenty minutes and I’m the reason we’re late. Chuckling,
I follow her out the door and into the elevator.