Beauty from Love (Beauty 3)

We look at one another but don’t need time to talk it over. “We want everything possible to be done.”

“You should know this will be a very long road. We’ll make decisions about your plan of care on a daily basis since your condition can change rapidly.” Dr. Sommersby picks up the phone to make a call. “I want you transported to the hospital by ambulance. There will be no going back if those hourglassing membranes rupture.”

The shock sets in and Laurelyn begins to cry. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know anything was wrong. I felt completely normal.”

This isn’t her fault. It’s mine. I’m the one ramming my dick into her when I should’ve been keeping it to myself. “I think I did this—last night. I was too rough with you.” I knew I’d end up hurting her and the baby.

Dr. Sommersby ends her call. “I’m admitting you to labor and delivery and your orders will be there when you arrive. The nurses are going to be doing a lot of things to you at once but most importantly, you’re on strict bed rest in Trendelenburg position. That means the head of your bed will be in the lowest position and the foot will be elevated so you’ll almost be standing on your head. It’s going to be an uncomfortable position but if we’re lucky, the membranes will go back up into the cervix. If that happens, it’s possible I can take you to surgery and place a cerclage where I’d weave a suture through the cervix and then pull it closed and tie it shut.”

“How long does the cerclage stay in?”

“I’d clip it around thirty-six weeks.”

“So there’s a chance I could still carry the baby to full term?”

“We have a shot if I’m able to get the cerclage in, but it’s tricky because there’s risks associated with placing it. The needle I’d use to place the suture can rupture the bag of waters. That’s why I want you lying with your head down—so it can go back inside the cervix—or I won’t even make an attempt.”

This is scary as hell. I don’t recall ever feeling this kind of terror.

“Could I have caused this during sex?” The guilt I feel is killing me and if I did this, I should know I’m the cause.

“No. With incompetent cervix, there’s nothing you can do to prevent it. And there’s no way of knowing you have it until there’s a problem. But the good news is that we know Laurelyn’s cervix is weak, so I’d bring her in with her next pregnancy, somewhere around fourteen weeks, and place a cerclage before this happens again.”

I hadn’t even considered future pregnancies. I’ve barely had time to wrap my head around this one. “So it’s possible for her to become pregnant again and carry the baby to term?”

“As long as the suture is placed in time, she shouldn’t have any complications.” That’s such a relief to hear.

The ambulance service arrives and I can only stand back and watch as they move her over onto the stretcher. “Are you her husband?”

“I am.”

“We can’t let you ride with her but you can follow us in your vehicle.”

I want to argue, tell them they’re nuts if they think they’re separating me from my wife, but that’ll cause an unnecessary delay. “Okay.” I kiss her forehead. “I’ll be right behind you.”

I’m following the ambulance and the harsh reality of our situation hits me—Laurelyn and I could lose our baby. Suddenly, all the problems we encountered along the way to this place seem so insignificant. “Oh God, please take care of Laurelyn and our baby. I beg you to not take our little one before it’s had a chance to live.”

L is already admitted to her room in labor and delivery by the time I park and find her. Just as Dr. Sommersby promised, she’s already been positioned in a bed with the head down and her feet up. Gravity. It’s what we used to get her pregnant and now it looks like we’re going to use it to keep her that way.

Several nurses are doing different things to L at the same time—one starting an IV, another getting vital signs and placing a monitor on her stomach, a third asking a long list of questions about her medical history. It’s a lot to take in at once seeing so many things done to your wife simultaneously. And I have no control over any of it. All I can do is sit back and hope these people know what they’re doing.

An hour later, the whirlwind of getting L admitted and the nurses completing the doctor’s initial orders is over. She’s settled in—best she can be while almost turned upside down—and we’re left alone for the first time since this nightmare began. I scoot my chair to the head of her bed so she can see me and I take her hand. I lean over and kiss it. “Can I do anything for you?”

“Wake me up and tell me it’s all a bad dream.”

“Everything is going to be okay. Our baby has a fighter’s heart. She’s part of you so she doesn’t have a choice.”

“You said she. You’re so convinced this baby is a girl.”

I am. “You’re so convinced she’s a boy.”

“Why a girl? I thought every man wanted a son.”

Too much emphasis is placed on men wanting sons. “When I lost you, I had a lot of time on my hands. I spent most of it thinking about what my future would look like if I got you back. You holding a little girl with long brown curls and your same caramel-colored eyes … that’s what I always saw and I guess her image stuck with me, but I’d be thrilled with any child you give me.”

Tears fill her eyes but they run toward her hairline instead of down her cheeks. I reach over and wipe them away. “I should call my parents to let them know what’s happening. I’m sure my mum will be in the car immediately.”

“Tell her she doesn’t have to come. There’s nothing she can do but look at me … like this.”

“As if that’s going to happen.” Margaret McLachlan will be here in less than four hours. I predict it and pity any who gets in her way.

This is going to be miserable for L. Only an hour in and she’s already slid toward the headboard so far that her head is pressed against it. “Want me to pull you down in the bed?” Or up? I don’t know which you’d call it.

“Yeah, but don’t tug on that.” She points to a plastic tube hanging on the bed.

“What is it?”

She wrinkles her nose. “A catheter.”