Beyond These Walls (The Walls Duet #2) (31 page)

“Do we want to know the sex today?” the technician asked as she plugged away on her keyboard, checking measurements and recording information.

“Yes,” we answered in unison.

“Okay, I’ll do my best,” she replied.

She continued to do her thing, freezing frames as she moved the wand around my growing belly. Lying in the position in this same room several times now, it was easy to see the progression week after week. The first time, it had been hard to believe anything was really different. My stomach had been smooth and flat. Now, there was evidence. Anyone who looked at me could see I was carrying precious cargo, and any second now, I’d know if that tiny kicker I’d grown to love was a boy or a girl.

Each new image the technician showed gave us another glimpse. It was no longer a little lima bean but rather a small baby-shaped blob. She pointed out feet and legs, arms and head. It was crystal clear, but I could see just the outline of everything.

“Okay, are you ready? I’m going to see if I can get a peek between those legs.”

Jude gave me a quick glance, his lip turned up in amusement.

“Well . . .” She pondered over that word for a moment or two.

We waited in anticipation.

“Looks like you’ve got a very unlucky boy or a little girl on your hands!”

“A girl?” Jude said, completely stunned.

“A girl? Really?” I echoed, the words coming out soft and strained.

I looked at the image again—the rounded belly, the two perfect arms, and the beautiful head.

Of course it was a girl.

Jude looked over at me, his eyes brimming with tears, as he mouthed the word,
Angel.

He squeezed my hand, holding it to his lips, and he placed a gentle kiss in the center.

“Guess I owe you a name?” he said.

“Meara,” I simply stated.

He let it hang in the air before smiling. “It’s beautiful.”

“I remembered seeing it somewhere when we were in Ireland. Maybe a waitress, for all I know, but I looked up the name last week in our baby book because I just couldn’t stop thinking about it.”

The technician finished up and promised to send everything to the doctor. After I cleaned the goo off my belly and readjusted my shirt, I caught Jude’s gaze.

He asked, “And what does it mean? The name?”

“Sea. It means the sea. I thought it was perfect.”

He helped me off the table and pulled me into his arms.

“It is. Perfect and beautiful, just like you.”

My smiling eyes lifted to his.

“You’re going to make me repaint the nursery anyway, aren’t you?” he asked, knowing it was coming.

“Well, I mean, a girl does deserve more than just plain old yellow.” I shrugged, laughing.

“Slave driver.”

“Oh, good. Now that we’re talking about it, those curtains really need to be changed, too. I don’t know what I was thinking and—”

He just chuckled under his breath the entire way home as I mentally redecorated the entire room we’d just completed.

It didn’t matter though because she was healthy. Meara was healthy, and life was perfect.

AS THE WEATHER grew hot and spring turned to summer, we settled into our quiet new life on the coast of California. Long gone were the bright lights of the city, now replaced by lazy evenings nestled around the deck, watching sunsets night after night.

We knew it was temporary. We knew we’d eventually have to go back to a life filled with more—more responsibility, more to do, and more required of both of us.

But for now, we simply just enjoyed each other.

Finally, it wasn’t about making up for time lost or trying to cram in as much as possible before some inevitable doomsday occurred. It was only about the present, living in the moment.

Seeing Meara for the first time in that ultrasound, giving her a name after all those weeks of looking at grainy photos up on the screen, had suddenly made something click for both of us.

We were having a child, and yes, a million and a half things could go wrong between now and then. But did either of us want to look back and regret the moments we’d lost while worrying about it? No, we’d want to know we had spent every second making the most of our time together.

So, that was exactly what we’d done over the last few months. We’d slowed down and remembered, rekindling the honeymoon lifestyle we’d fallen in love with before this all began—lazy days on the beach, long nights wrapped in each other by the fire. It was time we would have never gotten otherwise, and we relished in it, drinking in every ounce of each other until there was no beginning and no end. It was one never-ending
baby moon,
as our family called it.

Whatever it was called, it worked. I could see a marked change in Lailah. Her stress level had lessened. Her blood pressure had improved, and so far, everything seemed to be going well.

At least, it had been—until last night.

Just when I’d finally believed we could make it through to the other side without complications, the floor had caved in.

We always knew there was a chance things could go bad.

I’d just never expected this.

I didn’t know why I’d awoken.

Maybe I already knew. Somehow, deep down in the marrow of my being, I’d known tonight was the night everything would change. Our extended honeymoon was over, and like the sound of a movie reel settling back into place, our life was restarting.

Whatever the reason, I’d woken up to find Lailah tossing madly. She was in a deep sleep, her eyes moving rapidly, as the moonlight drifted through the window, casting a deep shadow across her tortured face.

“Lailah,” I whispered tenderly, caressing the skin across her cheekbone.

She felt warm and sweaty.

“Lailah,” I said again, this time with a bit more urgency.

Her eyes opened weakly.

“I don’t feel well,” she said immediately, grasping her stomach.

“When was the last time you checked your blood pressure?” I asked, my body shifting into high gear.

Ever since her trip to the ER in the spring, she had been put on medication to regulate her blood pressure. She’d also check it once or twice a day, just to be safe.

“Before bed . . . maybe dinner?” she answered sluggishly. “I need to go to the bathroom.”

I stood quickly, grabbing her hand, as she swung her feet over the edge of the bed. As she rose, I could see her eyes lose focus, as if the world had just tilted on its axis.

“Lailah?”

“I think we need to go to the hospital,” she stated, her voice clear and calm as she gripped her chest.

It was the calm part that made me feel anything but.

I didn’t even bother acknowledging her. Rather, I jumped into action. I ran to the closet and dresser, pulling out clothes, anything I could find—jeans and a T-shirt for me, yoga pants and a hoodie for her. Shoes were found, and within three minutes, we were out the door, leaving a very sad and confused puppy behind.

“He’ll be fine,” I promised as I sped down the highway toward the hospital. “I’ll call your mom and Grace the minute you’re in a room and have one of them check on him.”

“Okay,” she answered softly.

I grasped her hand across the seat.

Flying into the parking lot, I stopped in front of the emergency room doors and helped her out. Thankfully, she was wheeled straight back to labor and delivery, and paperwork was put off until things settled down. I didn’t think I could even remember my own name right now, let alone be responsible for completing insurance forms.

A nurse helped her strip down as they eased her onto a bed, hooking her up to a fetal monitor. The whooshing sound I’d become familiar with during doctor’s visits and ultrasounds gently filled the air. I watched the woman as she wrote numbers down, and she quickly left the room, only to return a moment later with the on-call doctor.

Lailah and I nervously looked at one another, gripping each other for support.

“Hi, I’m Dr. Truman. What seems to be going on tonight?”

Lailah briefly explained waking up, feeling disoriented, her chest burning. The more she spoke, the more anxious I became. Dr. Truman’s head bobbed up and down, as if she were neatly fitting all the pieces of a puzzle in her head. It was obvious she already knew what was wrong, and she was just confirming as Lailah spoke.

“And how do you feel now?” the doctor asked.

“Worse. Like I’m crawling out of my skin. My head is pounding, and I feel like I’m going to throw up.”

“Well, considering what your blood pressure is, I’m not surprised.” Her eyes narrowed. “How do you feel about delivering tonight?”

I could see the panic immediately flare to life in Lailah’s expression.

“But I’m barely thirty-one weeks. It’s not time.” The words rushed out of her mouth. “I’m not due until October. It’s not October yet!”

Tears flooded her eyelids as I tried to comfort her even though my own heart was beating in a rapid staccato rhythm that I was finding hard to hide.

Preeclampsia. Maybe worse.

The doctor was sugarcoating everything, trying to keep Lailah’s stress to a minimum, but I knew that was what we were facing. They wouldn’t be risking a premature birth otherwise.

“It is early,” the doctor replied. “But right now, we have to focus on the health of you and the baby, and this is the best option we have.”

“We can’t just put me on bed rest? Up my medication to lower the blood pressure?”

I could see it in her eyes. She was grasping at straws. She knew as well as I did that this was fruitless, but the idea of seeing our child in the NICU was sending her into mindless hysterics.

“Lailah,” I said calmly, pushing back an errant strand of hair from her face, “I think the doctor is right. We need to do what’s best for Meara.”

The use of her name seemed to calm Lailah instantly, refocusing her priorities and drive. Silently, she nodded, squeezing my hand, as tiny tears fell down her face.

“Okay,” she agreed.

“Great. I’m going to go notify the OR, and we’ll be back shortly,” Dr. Truman said before quickly leaving the room.

The quiet settled around us as Lailah looked out the window. The only sounds were the whir of the machines, Meara’s fetal heart monitor, and Lailah’s soft sobs leftover from earlier.

“It’s going to be okay,” I encouraged, grasping her chin in my palm.

I tugged her attention back to me, and her crystal-blue eyes found mine. Doubt, worry, and distress weighed heavily in her soul.

“How do you know?” she asked softly.

“Honestly”—I exhaled, my eyes falling to the floor—“I don’t. I don’t know, Lailah. But I can’t see any other option. Because this,” I said, pulling her hand closer to my heart, “us, I can’t lose this. So, it has to be okay. Right?”

I met her gaze again just as her arms fell around me.

“Right,” she cried.

We held each other, seeking the solid tethered feeling each of us felt when wrapped around each other. I’d always feel whole when she was in my arms.

Suddenly, just as the world was righting itself in her arms and I was beginning to feel like we might be able to conquer whatever might lie ahead that night, alarms sounded, and nurses rushed in, breaking us apart. I stood, stunned and terrified. I stared down at my wife as they began moving cords and IVs, adjusting the bed for transport.