Bridget Jones: Beyond Reason
Chapter XXI
Emotional Roller Coaster
Sunday February 24 (cont.)Felt myself being lifted from the floor, still wrapped in the quilt. The pain had been so excruciating that I thought I was going to be sick again. Was desperately clinging to the hope that what Jude had said to Mark was a mistake…that I wasn't losing the baby, and that the bleeding and pain could be stopped in time. She had no medical degrees, no personal child bearing experiences. How could she know for sure? Was more than willing to face 7 months of bed rest if that's what it would take to bring my precious baby into the world.
Mark carefully placed me in the passenger seat of my car then sped off through the dusky streets of London toward the hospital. He had turned off the radio and so all that could be heard was the sound of his heavy, panicked breathing and his impatient honking. "Oh Bridget…why didn't you tell me?" could hear him mutter under his breath. Could not respond. Even if I had been able to, what would I have said?
Maybe if I had told him…
Shortly after arriving at the hospital, was whisked from Mark's arms into a waiting wheelchair. The pain was still so intense. Managed though to croak out the name of my doctor. He never arrived…in time. Meanwhile, other uniformed staff members were huddled around me, coming and going, speaking in hushed tones. Far too many people getting an eyeful of my nether regions, but I was not in any particular modest frame of mind. I just wanted it to stop. And finally it did. A young nurse, Tessa I believe was her name, told me that I should start to feel much better. The gestational sac had passed. She said it with a smile, as if it was a good thing. Gestational sac? In medical terms that meant my baby. The baby was lost. She had found my womb too toxic and had rejected me as her mother.
Maybe if I weren't Bridget Jones, living, breathing disaster…I wouldn't have lost the best thing that had ever happened to me.
There really had been no medical reason for me to stay after that, but Dr. Lloyd wouldn't discharge me without talking with me first about what had happened. Had been in a med-induced sleep, but was soon awakened by footsteps. Was not Dr. Lloyd, but Mark looking forlorn and rumpled.
"Bridget," He took my limp hand, cocooning it between the two of his. "Can I get you anything?"
"No, I'm fine," I responded tersely, avoiding eye contact, but rather maintaining focus on a tab of peeling yellow-striped wallpaper.
"Do you want me to call your parents?"
Scrunched my eyes together fighting back tears, not wanting to deal with any of this…or any of what was to come. Shook my head. "They didn't know. I never told them."
He squeezed my hand. "I'm sorry Bridget."
"For what?" Still was not looking at him.
"For everything." Momentary silence. "Bridget…Why didn't you tell me that you were pregnant?"
For the first time I looked him squarely in the eyes. All the pain and resentment of the past two months had worked its way to the surface of my clouded brain and my whisper became a shout. "What makes you so sure that you were the father!"
Silence. He released my hand. "Are you honestly going to tell me that I'm not?"
"It is possible you know! You aren't the only sperm in the sea! I was dating another man you know." I could have just as well shot him as said that to him. A horrified, sick expression ripped across his face.
"Bridget please! Is that true?" He stood. "I'm sure they can tell me how far along your pregnancy was. And why else would your friends say that I was?" He began moving toward the door.
"Don't bother. I'm fairly certain that it happened the day we…the night I got back from Thailand," I revealed resentfully, but then lowered my voice again to nearly a whisper. "What does it matter anyway? She's gone!"
"She?" He practically lunged at me, reclaiming my hand. "We were going to have a little girl? Oh Bridget…" He said it hopefully, as if it was still a possibility. With his other hand, he touched my cheek. I shook away his touch.
"I don't know. That's just what I wanted…" Rose up again like a cobra about to strike its prey. "…otherwise you would have just insisted on sending him away…to some snobby, dehumanizing boarding school where I'd miss seeing him grow up!" Swallowed hard. "I will never send my children away Mark Darcy!" He said nothing, focused his attention on the floor and began to pace like a caged animal. The next thing I spat at him I still regret saying, and probably always will. I didn't mean it. I was just angry. Angry at him…angry at myself…angry at the world. "You don't deserve to be a father!"
He turned pale as a crisp, white bed linen and cast his eyes on me in a way that I hope I never see again, a mixture of bewilderment, grief, and rage. Quickly he moved toward the door without another word.
The nurse caught him at the door, but a partition blocked my view so that I could only hear. "Mr. Jones, are you alright?"
"Darcy, Mr. Darcy." Could hear him speaking v. low. "I was the baby's father though."
Moments later Jude and Shazzer entered the room holding a gargantuan bouquet of unnaturally colored chrysanths and matching pitiful expressions on their faces. "Bridget we brought you some flowers. How are you feeling?"
Why is it that people always ask that question? How am I supposed to feel? And why, oh why is it universally believed that flowers hold the power to ease a person's pain? "Miserable."
"What did you say to Mark? He just left the room with tears in his eyes."
"I didn't know that emotionally constipated people even had tear ducts," Shaz added, smirking uncomfortably after her ill-received joke.
"Good! It's his fault! It's all his fault!"
"How can you say that Bridget? He didn't even know," Jude curiously jumped to Mark's defense.
"If he hadn't done what he did, Bridget wouldn't have been under so much bloody stress all the time," Shaz retorted. "Of course it was his fucking fault!"
Jude and Shaz proceeded to argue their divergent feelings regarding my former child's father. Actually had become fearful that their debate over Mark was going to come to an embarrassing catty round of fisticuffs whereby they'd have to be escorted out in straitjackets, or in their case nets. Wondered if they had forgotten that I was even in the room. Hello? Would have just left them to their bloody pointless argument but was quarantined to a hospital bed with no immediate means of escape until Dr. Lloyd arrived. Finally they ceased with the bickering when I began to cry…angry tears. "Stop it! You're not helping. Please just go! I want to be alone." Once again was trying to find solace in the tattered wall. They both kissed the top of my head and left peacefully. Best friends, yes, but they can be so totally idiotic and insensitive sometimes.
Dr. Lloyd had arrived shortly after 10pm apologizing for the tardiness. Was surprised when Mark came in behind him. I had said the worst possible thing to him and he was still there. He even asked if I minded if he stayed in the room while the doctor spoke with me. His eyes were bloodshot. Jude was right; he had been crying.
Dr Lloyd had asked a lot of questions and I answered as best I could. He began to explain things like chromosomal imbalance, infectious antibodies, and incompetent cervixes. Would be typical of my cervix to be incompetent, wouldn't it? Then he turned to Mark and explained that in some cases abnormal sperm can be the cause. Mark reacted by lowering his head, but then spoke up moments later, rudely interrupting Dr. Lloyd as he continued to explain the circumstances, "She fell on the ice a few weeks ago. Could that have anything to do with it?"
He was trying to blame me.
"A simple fall does not trigger such a reaction. There is no cause for alarm unless Miss Jones had required serious medical attention, which she did not. She came to me with the same concern, but I assured her…" Dr. Lloyd placed one hand on Mark's shoulder and the other over my hand. "I know that you have had a somewhat difficult pregnancy from the start Miss Jones, but there appears to be no medical indication that you are incapable of carrying a child full term. The bottom line is that no one really knows what causes a miscarriage in most cases and it's important that you don't blame yourselves or each other." He cleared his throat and stood to leave. "There's no reason why you couldn't try again in a few weeks time, but for now, rest. If you need to speak with anyone I will be happy to refer you. Equally as important in the healing process, you need to keep the lines of communication open between the two of you."
Mark and the doctor shook hands as Mark thanked him for speaking with us. I repeated what Dr. Lloyd had said over in my head, about how we could try again soon. He obviously didn't realize that Mark and I weren't a "we" anymore. Had been too embarrassed to even look at Mark after that, but felt the edge of the bed dip as he sat closer. He wrapped his arms around me and placed his hand on the back of my matted head. I didn't want to reciprocate, but I needed him. My heart was broken, and right now he's the only one who understood even a fraction of what I was feeling.
He took me home after that.
Had gone straight to bed, a thousand and one more 'what if' scenarios running through my head…trying to make sense of something that didn't make sense. Thought I had done everything I was supposed to. In my heart, had felt unwavering joy and contentment that Mark had been there, but my head told another story…to scream at him one minute and cling to him the next. Felt such consuming guilt now, never having told him…until it was too late. Have robbed him of the joys of being an expectant father, and left him with only the sadness of the loss. Would not blame him if he couldn't forgive me for that, but then again he left me with few options in that regard, as he tried to shut me out of his life. Can't believe how utterly cruel we'd been to each other over the past two months. And for what?
Heard a shuffle at the door and found him watching me. How pathetic I must have seemed to him, I thought.
"Bridget, can I get you anything?" he asked stoically. Couldn't really figure out what was going through his mind. Was he riding the same emotional roller coaster? Since bringing me home from the hospital, he'd been v. guarded. Neither of us had said a word to the other in the car.
"I'll be fine." That had become my stock answer whenever anyone asked how I was or if they could get me anything. Reached for a tissue to blow my nose.
Unexpectedly, he came and sat on the edge of the bed. "Are you sure?" He took another tissue from the box and wiped my eyes. Managed a smile in response to his sweet gesture, feeling certain that it was just pity that he was feeling for me…that was all. Abruptly he stood again and I thought he was going to leave, but to my surprise he came around and lay down next to me, still in the same red jogging suit, minus shoes.
"What are you doing?" Looked into his eyes with puzzlement.
"I want you to rest now. Try and get some sleep. I'll be right here if you need anything." He smiled ever so slightly, plumped the pillow and laid his head down next to mine.
"But…"
"Shhhh…no more talking." Hesitantly I laid on my side, with back to him (as I usually sleep on my right side) and burrowed beneath the covers. I turned back to him again several minutes later and he was still awake, watching me as I had so often done to him, his eyes filled with tears. He was hurting too. I passed him a tissue.
"I'm sorry Mark."
"For what?"
"For saying you don't deserve to be a father."
His glassy eyes penetrated mine. "I know."
We lay side by side all night, neither of us making a sound, except for the at least half dozen times I had awoken in a cold sweat after having given birth to a chimpanzee clutching a bag of pork rinds or similar. He held me…listening…stroking my hair, and then tucked me in again after doing his best to chase the demons away. He promised that he would be right there. We would get through it together and that he would protect me. Sadly though, no one could protect me. He was with me, but I still felt so alone…so empty.