Go Gently
I feel these days as if some awful monster
with a grip like a jackhammer
has grabbed me,
lifted me,
shaken me,
from head to toe, for days.
Now that it has finally put me down,
I must tread warily, cautiously, one foot at a time,
watchful of the dangers
and hurts that look around every corner.
I must go gently,
like a person recuperating from a life-threatening illness.
-David Morawetz
January 2002
"Well, your lab work shows no genetic abnormalities, and all the other tests came back normal as well. So, I can say with confidence that this pregnancy should proceed normally and without any known complications."
The genetics specialist Kate sent us to is nice enough, if not over the top thorough. The questionnaires alone make me feel like I need a blood sample from each and every relative of ours, living or dead.
"So, Rachel wasn't lost due to some genetic reason?" Edward asks, just making sure he understands all we've been told.
"No, Mr. Cullen, there was no evidence that genetics contributed to losing your daughter."
Edward's hand squeezes mine, his relief palpable. "Thank you." Reaching out with his free hand, he shakes the doctor's in gratitude.
Leaving the office, we both have tentative smiles on our faces, almost like we're afraid to hope.
Early March
"I really wish you could have joined us, Bella," Charlotte, my uncle Peter's new wife, says to me. We're back at Grandma Higginbotham's house, once again in their basement, having another family gathering; this time more joyful than last. They were married just last week, and we were unable to attend due to the terrible bout of morning sickness I'd been dealing with.
"Me, too. I just couldn't bring myself to drive that far feeling as badly as I have been. Besides, I doubt I'd have been very good company," I respond. It's true, I've been almost too sick to leave the house these days. A four hour drive to a wedding I didn't care to sit through did not sound like a good idea.
I look over to Edward, and he's in conversation with Jasper. They always seem to pair up at these get togethers my family is always having. Alice and I are usually enlisted to help with the food and arrangements, therefore busy with one thing or another. But this time, thankfully I'm not asked.
My husband looks tired, even from across the room. The last few months have been hard on us, in more ways than one. Jacob has been having night terrors, which means none of us are getting enough restful sleep. Edward has been spending a lot of time at work, taking as much overtime as he can to pay the bills. Though, I doubt it's all about money. I think, in his own way, there's a part of him hiding from the reality of dealing with everything that's happened. Add my morning sickness to it, and we're all a little worse for wear.
"So, will they be having a baby shower for this one?" Charlotte asks, pointing to my baby bump.
"Oh, I don't know. No one has said anything yet, but we have a few months. It's only the first week of March, and I'm not due until the very end of August or the first part of September. So we have time," I say with a small smile.
"Well, and we might want to wait," Grandma says, leaning over me to speak to Charlotte before looking up to my eyes. "You know, just to make sure."
Charlotte is as visibly surprised by Grandma's comment as I am, and judging by the quiet of the room, so is almost everyone else.
"Excuse me," I say, getting to my feet and finding my way up the stairs. Even though it's cold outside, the fresh air might do me some good. I make my way to the back porch, and wrap my arms around myself, trying to keep the tears at bay.
The sadness only creeps in occasionally these days, and I'm really, truly excited about our new arrival. But things like Grandma's comment makes that niggling voice in my head whisper words of blame and fault. If my own family doubts I can carry another baby to term, it's hard to believe it myself.
The warm, strong arms that wrap around me are a comfort I didn't know I needed.
"You okay?" he whispers in my ear.
I huff out a humorless laugh. "Man, if I had a dollar for every time someone asked me that question..." I turn in his arms, looking up at him. "Well, let's say you wouldn't have to put in so many hours at work."
I rest my head on his chest, soaking up the warmth, and concentrate on the sound of his steady breaths.
"I heard what she said," he says quietly.
"I'm pretty sure everybody heard her, Edward." My head is still resting against him, but his fingertips find my chin, lifting it to make me look up at him.
"You know I don't think that, don't you?"
I search his eyes for the truth. What I find is his always-honest openness. "I know you don't. But Edward, can you honestly tell me it's not a worry in the back of your mind? And do you think we'd survive it if-"
"Hey, don't think like that. I have to believe things will be fine this time."
"This time. Edward, I've been pregnant three times, three times, and we only have one child. You have to admit that my odds aren't very good," I say incredulously. I pull away enough to turn away from him, crossing my arms back around myself.
"Bella, we have to have some faith that things will work out this time. We have to."
Late March
"Are you sure he's taking care of himself, Bella? I know you guys are having a rough time right now, but I'm worried about him," Esme says about her son. "Is he eating?"
I shrug. Even I've noticed him looking worse and worse lately. It's been six months since we lost Rachel, and in some ways, I feel like I'm losing my husband, too. He's been a great support, always there for me when I need him, but he has moments when he's distant and doesn't want to talk about things. But what we're all starting to notice is the weight loss.
"I don't know, Esme. I'm not getting up with him anymore, so I don't know if he's eating in the mornings, and I make sure he's taking something for lunch, but I can't go to work with him to make sure he's actually eating it. I make dinner, but he usually just picks at it. He's a grown man, what do you want me to do?" I ask with exasperation.
"I don't know, sweetie. I just don't know," she says pulling me in for a hug.
Mid April
"And there's your baby!" the ultrasound tech says cheerfully.
"And everything is okay?" Edward asks nervously, squeezing my hand.
"Everything looks perfect." She swirls the wand over my belly, capturing images of our little miracle. "So, would you like to know the sex?"
Edward and I look at each other, knowing what our answer will be. No matter when we hear this bit of information, we know it will be emotional, but we prefer to do this privately.
"Could you write it on a card and seal it in an envelope?" I ask her.
"Sure, hon, I can do that."
The drive to the park is quiet, both of us lost in our own thoughts. Edward finds a parking spot and gets out to retrieve the blanket we brought along. I heave myself out of the car, and waddle along beside him, taking his hand when he offers it. I never really lost much baby weight after Rachel, having gotten pregnant again so soon, so I'm a little heavier than I'd like to be.
We walk until we find a quiet corner of the park and he lays out the blanket. He helps me to sit, and takes his spot at my side. We're both silent, lost in thought, as we sit here, the envelope holding vital information to our future lying between us.
"Do you want to open it, or do you want me to?" he asks me.
"I'll open it," I say, my words shaky.
With slightly trembling hands, I pick up the envelope, but Edward's hand stills me. "You're sure?"
"I'm sure."
I run my finger gingerly under the sealed flap and take a deep breath before pulling the slip of paper from inside. I don't look at it, though, and just hold it between my fingers as I glance at my husband. For some reason, there's apprehension; as if this moment will somehow change things.
"I love you," I say.
"I love you too, Bella."
Glancing down, I see the words that will once again change our course.
It's a boy!
A small smile crosses my lips as tears fill my eyes. "It's a boy," I say simply, looking up at my husband. I don't know what I was expecting, but the moment is subdued, quiet. It's not the joyous occasion we shared with our family last year when we found out we were having a girl. This private moment between us is just that, private.
"A boy," he says, his own quiet tears filling his eyes.
"Are you disappointed?"
"No," he says, shaking his head. "Not really. I mean, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't hoping for another girl." His eyes meet mine. "You?"
"No, I don't think so. But it's kind of the same for me. I know we said we'd try when we were ready to welcome a boy or a girl into the family, but I'm still a little disappointed." I pause, thinking over my words. "But, Edward, we're allowed to be. I feel like we've earned that much."
"You're right, we have." We're both quiet again, letting it all soak in. "So, another boy, huh?"
"Yeah," I say with a small, genuine smile, "another boy."
June
Spring has turned into summer, and with it brings the move of Mom and Phil back into town. I see them on a regular basis now, which is a change for me. Though, it is a distraction from the tension I'm feeling at home right now.
Recently, Edward seems to be pulling further away from me. He's quiet and disconnected most of the time. Even his time with Jacob is less and less these days. He works longer and longer hours, and our evenings spent as a family are rare events. Jacob and I are left to fend for ourselves more often than not.
And I'm growing more and more concerned. He's lost so much weight, so quickly; I'm worried there's a real issue with his health. His pants are practically falling off his already lean frame, his belt on its final notch, and his cheeks are beginning to sink in a bit. Needless to say, Esme is beside herself with worry.
I'm worried too, but for other reasons as well. It almost feels like he's avoiding me these days. Time we used to spend wrapped around each other talking at night, is now spent with each of us rolled on our sides turned away from one another. At a time when we should be leaning on each other for support, even basking in the second chance we've been given, I feel like he's pulling away. The fact that he hasn't touched me in weeks doesn't escape my notice, either.
Feeling bold, I roll over toward him and reach my hand out to brush his shoulder. He visibly tenses but doesn't shrug me off.
"Hey," I whisper. "What's wrong, Edward?"
"Nothing, I'm just tired, Bella."
I run my hand over the hard lines of his bare back, feeling his tension beneath my fingertips.
"I miss you," I whisper into the darkness. A deep breath leaves him in a rush.
"I haven't gone anywhere."
"But you have, Edward. You've been checked out for months. Will you tell me what's wrong?"
The silence stretches on; the ticks of my wristwatch sounding from our dresser top the only sound besides our breathing, until I hear him speak.
"I told you, I'm fine," he insists, finally pulling away from me and rolling closer to the edge of the bed on his side.
"You're not fine!" I finally say loud enough to make him jump. I reach out, grabbing his shoulder to push him to his back, forcing him to look at me. "You haven't been fine, and I'm tired of ignoring it. You're not eating, you stay at work like you're trying to avoid us, and every time I try to talk to you about this baby," I say, pointing to my stomach, "you change the subject. It's making me think we shouldn't have tried again so soon."
"No," he says, shaking his head. "It's not that, Bella."
"Then what is it?" I scream.
"I'm scared!" he screams back at me, sitting up in bed. "I'm scared to death I'm going to give my heart over to another baby only to lose it again, and I don't think I can survive that. And I know if anything happens," he says, sucking in a stuttering breath as his tears start to fall. "If anything happens to this one, I'm afraid I'm going to lose you, too."
His admission surprises me into silence as he drops back onto his pillow, sobs overtaking him. I scramble to hold onto him, trying to hold my usually strong, supportive husband together like he always has for me. His words choke out of him as his tears continue to fall. "I can't lose you, Bella. If anything happens, I'll lose you," he continues to mumble.
"Shh, I'm not going anywhere. Shh," I say, trying to quiet his cries. He's always worn his heart on his sleeve, but this... This is different. I'm watching that heart break. I brush my thumbs over his cheeks, wiping away a few stray tears. "Maybe we shouldn't have tried again," I mumble into his hair.
His shaking head pulls away as he almost angrily wipes the tears from his eyes. "No, it's not that, Bella. I'm just... Uggh!" He groans, pulling on his hair. "I'm just scared out of my mind. I want this. I want him," he says reaching out, placing his hand on my belly. "I just feel like I have absolutely no control over anything and if one little thing goes wrong, I'm afraid our world is going to implode."
I'm quiet, waiting to see if he has anything else to say. When he says nothing, I place my hand over his, still firmly in place, as if he's guarding our son.
"Nothing is certain, Edward. Even regular couples, with regular pregnancies, could have any number of complications or even an everyday accident. I mean, I could get in the car tomorrow and be in an-"
"Don't say that!"
"Well, it's true. Nothing is certain. There are no guarantees in life. All we can do is live one day at a time and hope for the best."
"You're really not making me feel any better."
"Then, what would help?"
"I don't know..." he says with a defeated breath.
"Well, Kate did offer that I go twice a week for a non-stress test, an NST she called it."
"What's that?" he asks quietly.
"I go, they hook me up to a fetal monitor, and I kick back for thirty minutes or so and click a button every time he moves. I'll be twenty-eight weeks in a few days so I can start going in next week. Would that make you feel better? Set your mind at ease?"
"Yeah," he says with a nod. "It would."
"Will you start taking better care of yourself?" I ask.
"I'll try."
"Okay, Mrs. Cullen here's your magic button," the nurse says, handing over what looks like the clicker on Jeopardy. "Every time you feel a kick, a roll, or anything else, press it, and we'll match it up to the printout to see if the baby's kick count is where it should be."
"Okay, thank you," I say just before she walks from the door. I lean back in the chair and close my eyes, trying my very best to relax. I know this is a good thing, something to make Edward and even Kate and the doctors feel better, but it's a little stressful to me.
It seems like all I do these days is kick counts. Since the baby started moving, it's become almost an obsession for me. And to have Edward and everyone else constantly asking me for numbers is stressing me out. That old expression, 'a watched pot never boils?' Well, this pot is always watched, and as soon as there's some lull in baby movement, everyone freaks, causing me to panic.
Knowing that I'll be in here twice a week to have what basically boils down to a documented kick count, well, with all the counting I do at home, it's just too much.
Rose says she doesn't mind watching Jacob for me while she works from home, and I know he enjoys playing with Benjamin, but it's still a matter of dropping him off and picking him up when all I want to do is relax at home with my boy before his little brother gets here. But, I know this will make everyone feel better, so here I am, relaxing in the sticky, vinyl armchair in the doctor's office, Jeopardy clicker in hand.
August
"Why don't we try a glass of juice, huh?" the nurse asks me.
"Yeah, that should help."
"Did you eat before you came in today?" she asks as she opens the nearby mini fridge for the small bottle.
"Yeah, I did," I answer as she hands me the bottle.
"Well, let's see if this doesn't help get some more kicks on that read out today."
"How many was that?" Edward asks from beside me on the sofa, his hand firmly planted over his son still safely ensconced in my belly.
"I don't know, I lost count," I say offhandedly, shoving another handful of popcorn into my mouth.
"What do you mean, you don't know? Haven't you been keeping track?" he asks, sounding almost indignant.
"Haven't you?" I ask, sounding equally upset.
"I thought you-"
"You know what, I'm going to bed," I say, scooting to the edge of the sofa and rising to my feet. "I'm exhausted, and I just wanted to relax with my husband and watch a movie, but I don't need the third degree because I'm not doing what I do all day long!"
When Edward finally comes to bed, it's with sheepish apologies as he pulls me into his arms, holding me until we both fall asleep.
August 15
"So, we have some options, but I'm not sure how much Dr. Baker will go along with."
We're back in Kate's office after my latest lackluster NST. It's the third time the baby's movements were not what they should have been, and Edward is nearly crippled with worry. I know this has been especially hard on him, so he's here with me today to see if we can convince Kate to induce me.
"The trouble is, you're only thirty-eight weeks, so I can't just do what I want. I'll need to get approval from the doc. It's all ridiculous, really, because at thirty-seven, the hospital considers you full term," she says with rolling eyes before she scribbles notes into my chart.
I look over into the worried eyes of my husband, and I know what I need to do.
"Whatever you need, let's do it. I'm ready to have this baby," I say with a small but tired smile. I've been up the last few nights concerned for my husband. I know he won't tell me, but I'm pretty sure he's so anxious about something going wrong with the baby that he's been throwing up from worry.
"Okay, so we'll use the ultrasound to guide the needle, which will go into the amniotic fluid and we'll take a small sample. We'll look at it, and that will tell us if Baby Cullen's lungs are functioning, which will determine if we will induce or not," the doctor explains as he and his nurse prepare what they'll need for the amniocentesis.
Edward is seated to my side facing me and away from the medical supplies laid out as I'm lying on the table in the dark room. My eyes scan the tray of instruments they'll need, and it scares the shit out of me. The long syringe is almost enough to send me screaming from the room.
"I can see your face, Mrs. Cullen. The needle is a lot scarier than it looks. And we'll use a local anesthetic to numb the skin of your abdomen, so the most you'll feel during the actual procedure is pressure."
"Okay," I say, unconvincingly even to my own ears.
They work together to first numb me, then after setting up a sterile field, they insert the unbelievably long needle into my belly, extracting what they need to tell us if the baby's lungs are mature enough to induce labor. With Edward's hand in mine, I focus on his tired face, seeing the toll this pregnancy has taken on him, and I know I'm doing this for him, for us.
So later that afternoon, when we get the call that everything is a go, and I see the weight lift from his shoulders, I know we've made the right decision. The only thing left to do is go meet our baby.
