Page 26 of Saving Emily
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Two weeks later, I’m awoken by mild stomach cramps. I’m not surprised. Although Noah’s hospital bed is larger than most, it’s still a tight squeeze. Almost every morning, I wake up with a sore back and hip from lying in the same position, but this morning, the pain is more intense.
After sliding out of bed, I stretch my sore muscles. I’ve barely raised my arms above my head when a gush of liquid runs into my underwear. With my heart sitting lower than my feet, I tiptoe into the bathroom, hoping not to wake Jacob, who’s sleeping on the reclining chair next to Noah’s bed.
I hold my breath while lowering my yoga pants and underwear before sitting on the toilet. After a silent prayer for our baby to be okay, I glance down. A painful sob rips from my throat when I notice bright red blood is coating my underwear.
“No!” I cry as tears splash onto my bare thighs.
My head snaps to the door when Jacob bangs on it. “You okay?”
Acting ignorant to the worry in his tone, I bounce my eyes around the room, seeking any female hygiene products I can use while struggling to keep my sobs to a bare minimum. It’s virtually impossible with how echoing the stark white bathroom is.
After attempting to open the locked bathroom door for the second time, Jacob’s deep timbre overtakes the shrill of my pulse in my ears. “Em?”
“Just a minute.”
Desperate, I grab a wad of toilet paper to place in my blood-soaked underwear before moving to the sink to wash my hands. Once I've dried my damp cheeks with a paper towel, I open the bathroom door. Jacob is standing just outside the doorway. His face is marred with alarm. I try to put on a brave front, but it crumbles the instant I see Noah.
I can’t lose our baby. It’s the most precious gift he’s given me.
When I sprint into the corridor, Jacob closely shadows me. Tears are once again streaming down my face.
“What’s wrong?”
I try to form words, but I can’t. I’m so upset, I can barely breathe, let alone speak.
“Is it the baby?”
I use the sleeve of my shirt to wipe under my nose before nodding. “I’m bleeding.”
Air whizzes out of Jacob’s mouth as he pulls me into his chest so he can run his hand down my hair in a soothing manner. “It’s okay; it’ll be okay.”
He lets me cry in his arms for several long minutes before he attempts to shift my despair to hope. “What can I do? Tell me what to do, and I’ll do it.”
“Whatever you do, don’t tell Noah. Dr. Miller is adamant he can hear us, so I don’t want him to know I lost our baby.”
He drops his eyes to mine. “Are you sure you’ve lost it? Maybe this is just a part of pregnancy, and the baby is okay?” he questions just as Dr. Miller saunters past us.
Her steps falter as her eyes shift to Jacob. Her face doesn't give anything away. I'm unsure if she heard Jacob, or if she is just stopping to admire the view. I've noticed her watching him a few times the past two weeks.
After a beat, Dr. Miller enters Noah’s room without speaking a word.
“I don’t know what’s going on,” I reply once I’m confident she’s out of earshot. “I’ve never done this before.”
"Could you ask someone? What about Jenni? She only had Jasper a couple of months ago."
I deny Jacob’s suggestion with a shake of my head. “I don’t wantanyoneto know. Noah deserves to know before anyone else.”
After a few seconds of silent deliberation, Jacob pulls his cell phone from his pocket and starts tapping on the screen. Once he locates what he wants, he presses his cell phone to his ear.
“You can’t tell anyone,” I freak while attempting to yank his cell phone out of his grasp.
My endeavor comes too late. Jacob is too quick for little ole me.
“Hello, I need to make an urgent appointment, please. My friend is…” He peers down at me before mouthing, “How many weeks?”
I shrug, genuinely unsure. "I don't know. I think four or five months?"
