The Road to Mercy (8 page)

He hoped he could do that. But something uncomfortable—an awareness of darkness yet to be uncovered—also pricked at his spirit. A drug-induced veil had fallen over his wife and, at times, he hadn’t recognized her in the past few days.

Even worse, he wasn’t sure he knew who he was anymore. Fear stirred in his heart. Fear that had grown from a mustard seed less than two years ago.

Fear that had been planted the day his father left the ministry.

Take a right here.” Beth pointed to the street sign ahead. The address matched what she had been given for her new obstetrician’s office.

Alex steered her yellow VW Beetle into the lot in front of the large brick building. “Now, to find a parking spot. This place is packed. Is there a run on maternity care this time of year?”

Beth smiled. “Thanks for bringing me today.”

“You don’t need to drive in your condition.”

“Don’t remind me. It’s depressing being so dependent.”

Alex pulled into an empty space and switched off the ignition. “You realize God has given you a wonderful blessing, don’t you, girl? Despite the trials?”

“I know.” Beth nodded, while searching for a tube of lipstick in her handbag. She flipped down the sun visor mirror to apply the color to her lips, fighting to stay within the lines.

“You’re shaking. Are you okay?” Alex asked.

“I’m fine.” Beth snapped the visor shut and opened the car door. Alex had no idea how difficult this was for her. Facing death had been easier than the prospects of living on an emotional
roller coaster ride, hanging onto the good things and struggling through the bad.

The idea of having Josh’s baby excited her, of course. But she also had concerns. She couldn’t remember a day in the past two weeks when her head hadn’t hurt. Aspirin had never set well with her system. Now, she existed on high-powered prescriptions that challenged her lucidity.

How could she possibly take care of a baby? She had become a child herself. She couldn’t be trusted on her own. She’d taken a leave of absence from the accounting office and needed a caregiver day and night. Not exactly what she had envisioned for herself at twenty-nine and a year into her marriage.

If only Dr. Myers would put her primary fear to rest. She could deal with everything else.

Beth stepped outside the car and slammed the door. Alex walked beside her to the lobby of the physicians’ building.

“Relax,” her friend said. “Practice your deep breathing.”

Beth took a long, deliberate breath. She held it for a few seconds and then exhaled in short bursts. Alex scanned the building directory before pushing the call button on the elevator. They stepped inside the lift and rode, without speaking, to the third floor.

Once in the waiting room, Alex took a seat while Beth filled out preliminary paperwork at the front desk. She found Alex rifling through parenting magazines when she joined her in the sitting area.

“You’d think they would have pity on us single girls,” Alex said. “Look at the cute babies on the covers of these things.”

“You’ll be a godmother soon and, trust me, you can have all the cuddle time you want,” Beth assured her. “Diaper time too.”

Alex’s broad smile connected the freckles on her creamy complexion into a soft blush. She adjusted her sweater and
continued to dig through the pile of magazines, finally pulling out an old issue of
Town and Country
.

Beth looked around the crowded room. She might as well settle in for a long wait. She wondered what circumstances had brought each woman—and sometimes her male companion—to see the doctor. Perhaps circumstances worse than her own. An unwanted pregnancy, a questionable test result, or even a scary symptom she had discovered at home.

A few women wore business suits and fidgeted with their cell phones. Each seemed more concerned with other things than medical issues. Several mothers with young children juggled their crabby offspring.

“Tori . . . quiet!” A pretty, blonde woman repeated over and over while the child ignored her.

One couple, sitting in the corner of the room, whispered together nonstop and focused their attention on the baby bump under the young woman’s clothes.

Nurses crisscrossed the charcoal-gray carpet that ran from one reception area to another. The room had been decorated to the nines and could easily have been mistaken for a home decorator’s office, except for the photos of babies and toddlers adorning the walls.

Light gray dots peppered the luxuriously thick floor covering and coordinated with the stripes on the upholstered chairs. Dusk-colored draperies hung at oversized windows. The fabric fell into puddles on the floor.

Flamingo pink lamps provided the decorating
pièce de résistance
. They sprouted from translucent glass side tables and reached toward the ceiling. It was medical-office chic done to excess, but it kept Beth’s mind off her problems for a while.

After a twenty-minute wait, a nurse called Beth to the prep area. Entering the inner sanctum, they walked past black-and-white portraits of mothers holding babies. The nurse led Beth
to an intermediate examination area, where she underwent basic testing: weight, height, urine sample, and blood pressure. Once Beth was seated, the nurse asked about current medications. Beth gave her the printed list that Alex had prepared in advance, along with a folder from Dr. Abrams’s office.

The older woman glanced through the paperwork. “You’re having a rough time right now, sweetie. When did you learn about your dissected artery?”

“About two weeks ago.”

“How are you holding up emotionally?”

“I’m concerned, you know, with having to take the morphine and other drugs.”

“I can understand.” The nurse patted Beth on the arm. “You will do fine. There are no perfect pregnancies. Dr. Myers can help you manage everything, and that includes having a healthy baby.” She smiled. “This is your first visit, right?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Well, don’t worry, you’re in good hands.”

The nurse asked Beth to follow her down a long hallway. They stopped at the door to a small, cubical-shaped exam room. Inside, she gave Beth a crisp cotton gown. “It ties in the back. Make yourself comfortable. The doctor will be in soon.”

The nurse shut the door behind her, leaving Beth in the midst of another designer’s utopia, this one inspired by Pepto-Bismol. Fitting. Her stomach turned just thinking about the physical exam.

The faux-painted, pink walls featured more baby artwork. Except for the standard medical amenities, Beth could have been inside a plush hotel suite. After undressing and slipping on the gown, she took a seat on the examination table. Then she covered her legs with the pink sheet that had been provided.

Why were doctors’ offices always so cold? A chill traipsed up and down her spine while she sat, waiting, inside the frigid cubical. She pulled the sheet tighter to herself as shadows from the past danced around the room. Despite the luxurious accoutrements, the surroundings weren’t all that different from those almost ten years ago. The old memories came rushing back. Memories she had tried to forget. Her heart pounded when Dr. Myers knocked on the door and, right on cue, tears rolled down Beth’s cheeks.

The tall, dark-haired physician, who wore her hair in a pixie-cut, entered the room, the nurse one step behind her. “Hi, I’m Nicole Myers . . .”

When she saw Beth’s tears, she frowned and handed her a tissue. “Bethany, what’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry. How embarrassing.” Beth shook her head and dried her eyes. “I’m just a little emotional.” She could feel the heat creeping into her face.

“Not that uncommon, my dear. You have a few extra hormones floating around in your system right now.” Dr. Myers offered a reassuring smile and then rolled the chrome stool from the corner of the room closer to the examination table.

Beth watched the slender woman, who was probably ten years older than her, take a seat on the stool and begin to read through her chart. “You have a lot going on. I can understand why you’re concerned. But,” she smiled, “you know what? We can get you through this. You and your baby can get through this.”

The doctor’s words raised Beth’s spirits. “Thank you, Dr. Myers.”

“How much morphine are you on right now?”

“Twenty-five milligrams.”

The obstetrician made a written notation. “Okay.” She set the papers aside. “Let’s do the exam.” She spoke over her shoulder
to the nurse. “Alisha, I want to draw an extra vial of blood before Bethany leaves. I’ll need to run some additional tests.”

The gray-haired woman nodded and prepared a syringe, making quick work of the task, before rejoining the doctor at the exam table. While doing Beth’s physical, Dr. Myers chatted about baby names, nursery furniture, and mother-child portraits.

The latter amused Beth in light of the wall art throughout the doctor’s office. The woman was obsessed with baby photography. But Beth liked her a lot. Her hopes soared. Perhaps her baby would survive this high-risk pregnancy after all. Only one question remained.

“Everything looks good. Let’s talk.” Dr. Myers once again took a seat on the stool and picked up Beth’s chart. “What concerns you the most?”

“What do you mean?” Beth tried to swallow the lump in her throat.

“You were upset when I came into the room earlier. Fill me in. I want to know how I can help you.” The doctor looked squarely into Beth’s eyes.

Beth took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “I’ve never shared this with anyone. But I know I need to tell you. I want to give my baby the best chance possible.” Her voice trembled. “I had an abortion when I was in college, and I’m concerned it will affect my pregnancy.”

“Was there anything unusual about your abortion?” The doctor asked. “Was it late term?”

“Oh, no. I was only about eight weeks.”

“Good. Did you have complications? Uncontrolled bleeding? Infection? Perforation?”

“No . . . no. I don’t think so.” Beth struggled to remember the details she had tried to forget.

“That’s all good. Complications with an abortion can create problems with future pregnancies.”

Tears threatened again, but they were tears of joy.

“How about gastronomical problems?” The doctor asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Have you noticed any unusual digestive symptoms lately? Lower stomach or abdominal pain?”

“Not really. I’m on strong painkillers now, so I don’t know.” Beth thought back. “I might have had some pain before going to the hospital.”

“Where?”

“Here.” Beth placed her hand over the right side of her lower stomach.

“I didn’t feel anything unusual,” the doctor told her. “How about dizziness, light-headedness—”

“Oh, yes. A lot of that now. But I thought it was from the drugs.”

“It could be, and I don’t want to alarm you,” Dr. Myers said. “But there is a higher rate of ectopic pregnancies in women who have had abortions. I’m sure you know, that’s a very serious situation, dangerous for both mother and baby.” The doctor jotted more notes on her chart. “I want to run a couple of tests. Let’s try to rule this out so we can move on in a positive direction.”

Beth clutched her hands to ease the shaking. “How do we do that?”

“We can be relatively certain with two simple procedures. One is a hormone test, the other is a specific kind of ultrasound.”

“Yes, please, Dr. Myers. Let’s do them. I have to know.”

“Alisha, let’s schedule her as soon as possible.”

The sky was overcast in Milwaukee when Josh stepped off the bus for his hotel room. The others would be leaving soon for the concert hall, where they would do a sound check and spend the afternoon.

He had several hours to get in a two-mile run, eat lunch, and then relax before he showered. A staff member from the hall would be picking him up at five p.m. so he could join his band and crew for dinner.

Josh had never liked exercising, but after ten hours on the bus, he had to admit it would feel good to stretch his legs. And he always enjoyed seeing areas of the various cities they worked that he would not have ordinarily seen. Once in a while he would come upon a good place for lunch or a shop that interested him. On a really good day, he would be able to run next to the waterfront, in a park, or even on a school track that was open to the public.

He didn’t expect to be so fortunate today, because the outside temperature was hovering around the thirty-two-degree mark. Not bad for this area, but chilly enough to get his
exercise done and then hurry back to the hotel for a hot lunch at the restaurant.

The road life wasn’t a bad life. In fact, it could be fulfilling and quite interesting. He saw new places, met new people, and experienced things he never dreamed possible when he was a young man growing up in central Alabama. But things were beginning to change. If all went well, he would be a father this time next year. And there would be two reasons to want to stay home.

He hurried to his hotel room and changed into his jogging clothes. He was halfway to the elevator when he realized he had forgotten his cell phone. He heard it ringing as he was opening the door to his room but didn’t get to it in time. The call went to voicemail.

He dialed his number, entered his code, and listened. It was Beth. She was crying so hard he could barely understand her. She said something about an ectopic pregnancy. Tubes . . . uterus . . . more tests. He heard enough to understand the bottom line. They might lose the baby. She asked him to call her back right away.

Oh, God, I don’t know if I can handle this
.

Josh hit resend to return the call, praying for the right thing to say to his distraught wife. Yet, just as he hadn’t found the right words to comfort his father eighteen months ago, he doubted he would find them today. How would he even find comfort for himself?

Beth answered after the first ring. “I’m so glad you called me right back. Dr. Myers said my pregnancy could be ectopic.” Her words came in a torrent, and then she paused. “I’m afraid this is all my fault.”

“How could any of this be your fault, honey?” Josh feared that paranoia could be another side effect of the painkillers Beth was taking. “You’re doing the best you can. . . .”