Page 77 of Chasing The Goal
“You’re thirty-one weeks. The baby looks good. Strong heartbeat, good activity. But you?”
She looked over her glasses now, directly at me.
“You’re running on fumes.”
I didn’t deny it. Couldn’t. I just sat there, skin prickling under the thin hospital blanket, pulse loud in my ears.
“I want to talk about the rest of your pregnancy,” she said. “Specifically, how you’re going to get through it safely.”
Jaymie leaned forward. “What does that mean exactly?”
Dr.Neves glanced between us, assessing. “It means I’m recommending modified bedrest. Not full lock-down—this isn’t a high-risk situation yet. But she needs to stop pushing through. No long shifts. No standing for hours. No stress if it can be avoided.”
Jaymie nodded slowly, then looked at me.
I couldn’t meet his eyes.
“Is this… optional?” I asked, hating the way my voice cracked.
“It’s a warning,” she said gently. “Your body’s telling you to slow down. If you don’t listen now, the next step might not be optional. We’re trying to avoid preterm labor.”
The words hit harder than I expected. Not because I didn’t know they were coming—but because hearing them from a doctor, in a quiet hospital room, with Jaymie holding my hand, made them real.
I blinked fast.
Jaymie’s thumb brushed lightly across the back of my hand.
“Okay,” I whispered. “I get it.”
Dr. Neves didn’t smile, but there was a warmth in her expression. “We’ll get you discharged later this afternoon. Go home. Rest. Hydrate. Take care of yourself.”
I nodded. My throat burned.
Jaymie squeezed my hand again. When the door clicked shut behind Dr. Neves, the silence rushed in like a wave.
“I hate this,” I said finally.
“I know.”
“I don’t know how to stop.”
He didn’t say anything right away. Just reached for the cup of water on the tray and held the straw to my lips like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“You don’t have to stop being who you are,” he said softly. “Just... maybe let the rest of us carry a little more for once.”
I looked up at him then, eyes blurry, and nodded.
And in that one nod, everything shifted.
***
The knock was too soft for Connor. I knew it before the door opened. He didn’t do gentle. Or subtle. But when he stepped into the room, he looked like he was trying—his eyes a little too focused, jaw working like he hadn’t stopped clenching it since last night.
Darren trailed behind him, hands full—one holding a paper bag from the café downstairs, the other gripping a cup with my name scrawled across the side in sharpie. And Eliza brought up the rear, in her black puffer with snow still melting in her curls, her eyes already narrowed in assessment before she’d even crossed the threshold.
They didn’t say anything at first.
Connor paced once across the foot of the bed, then leaned against the window ledge. Darren set the bag on the tray table and hovered near the door, shifting his weight like his sneakers were on fire. Eliza parked herself in the corner chair with the kind of deliberate calm that only came from years of watching people fall apart.
