Page 18 of A Perfect Holiday
“What is wrong with it?”
“The MRI shows quite a bit of scar tissue where it’s been repaired twice in the same area. I’m afraid it won’t functioncorrectly when it needs to expand for a fetus. The chances of it rupturing are…one hundred percent.”
“There’s no hope?”
“I’m afraid not. I know this is a terrible blow, but there are options.” She continued to talk, but I couldn’t seem to comprehend what she was saying. I just couldn’t seem to shift my perspective from despair to hope.
“Options? What options? I can’t carry a baby. My husband and I can’t have any more children.” My voice was too calm, even to my ears.
She got up and came around the desk. “I want you to go home and rest. I can give you something to help.”
“Thank you, but I think it would be better if I kept busy. I have a toddler.”
“Verity, talk to your husband, then come back and we’ll talk about your options then, after you’ve had time to process this devastating news. Please call me directly with any questions you may have, or if you need guidance.”
My lips felt stiff when I responded. “Thank you. I have to talk to my husband.” I needed Boone, but I couldn’t seem to make my muscles move right now. Everything had been so perfect, so magical for us until Thanksgiving and Aubree’s mom’s simple question. Had that just been a week ago?
Now it seemed as if my life was crashing down around me. Boone and I had the most terrible fight of our marriage, something about him had changed, and I had failed him. We would never have a chance to share a pregnancy. We wouldn’t have that closeness, or joy, or connection. I’d never again feel a child moving inside me.
I rose, forcing myself to my feet as Dr. Hardy handed me a prescription. “Just in case you need it.”
I nodded and took the paper, tucking it inside my bag.
I was thankful I had my volunteer job right now. It would take my mind off this dreadful news. I tipped my head back and closed my eyes, trying to will away the trapped feeling that suddenly pressed down on me. An hour. That’s all they needed. Then I could go home.
The elevator slid to a stop, the jolt making my stomach lurch, and I took a fortifying breath, moving forward as the door opened. Drawing myself together, I stepped off the elevator, turning toward the desk, dread settling like a rock in my abdomen.
I checked in with the nurse like an automaton.
“Oh, hello, Mrs. Outlaw. Yes, end of the hall, Nurse Merrick is expecting you.”
I walked to the end of the hall and then stopped dead. The nursery. The wide glass a window into new, tiny, squirming life.
My breath hitched, and I turned away, fumbling for the phone. I pressed my automatic dial for Boone. When he answered, I whispered. “Boone. Could you come to the hospital? I need you. I’m on the sixth floor.”
“Verity? Are you all right?”
“No, not exactly, but I don’t want to explain over the phone. Can you come now?”
“Yes, but I’m like thirty minutes away.”
“That’s okay. Don’t rush. I’m fine. I just need to see you in person.”
“All right. I’m on my way.
“Verity? Hi,” Debbie Merrick said. “Thanks for volunteering. It’s been hectic today, and we need someone to rock the preemies. It’d only be for an hour.”
I whirled around and was going to beg off and tell her that I felt sick. Then I changed my mind. She needed someone, and suddenly I needed to hold a newborn in my arms.
I put on a gown and mask, entered the nursery area, sat down in the rocker, and accepted the first little bundle into my arms. When the warmth of her little body registered, I gritted my teeth.
When I stroked her little fist, she opened up her hand and wrapped it around my finger. My heart melted, and I couldn’t stop myself from smiling down into her sweet little face. I cooed at her, my troubles taking a backseat to this little girl’s needs. “You’re so brave…” I whispered. “You’re going to be feisty, aren’t you?”
The memory of holding Duel for the first time tore at my heart, and the reality of never being a mother again was almost too much to bear. It was strange that I hadn’t thought about it during the past year and a half, since my life was so full with Boone and Duel.
Really, conceiving again hadn’t crossed my mind, because I was so content, so fulfilled. But now I knew I couldn’t, now it wasn’t a choice anymore, it consumed me. Guilt and anger and despair consumed me.
It was a little frightening how a crisis could shrink time, how things I’d forgotten were suddenly recycling in my mind. Things I didn’t want to remember. Closing my eyes, I tried to will away the growing tightness in my chest, tried to will away the misery that settled around my heart. I shouldn’t have come here alone. I shouldn’t have withheld this vital information from Boone. Tears seeped beneath my lashes.
