Title: A Dream Life
Author: Andrea
Rating: R.
Rating Disclaimer: It's rated R for a reason. R means not suitable for children under 17. So if you are a child under 17, if your little sister is a child under 17, or if someone reading over your shoulder might be offended by R-rated material, you might not want to read it.
Summary: Blah, go back and read it again.
Author's Note: Thanks for the editing, Kelly #2. Way to fink out on me, Cath. Good thing I hate you anyway. I hope everyone enjoys this chapter. It's a long one. Any reviews would be most appreciated. And if you don't review … I might have to hunt you down and kill you.
Chapter 12: What Matters Most
The pain rips through me completely unexpectedly. I gasp and suck in my breath as a whimper escapes. John and Susan turn to look at me immediately.
"Abby, what's wrong?" I look up at John, the fear and panic in his voice echoed in his eyes.
"I … I don't know. It hurts." I put my hand on my abdomen, letting out a shaky breath.
"Where? Here?" He asks, bringing his hand down to cover mine. He pushes my hand out of the way, and presses gently where I indicated the pain is -- low, on the left side.
"Ow!" Tears spring to my eyes, although whether from the pain or from fear, I'm not sure. John is frozen for a moment, undoubtedly with the same paralyzing fear that I feel. Not the baby. Please let it be something else. Please don't let anything be wrong with the baby. I can't lose this baby. I don't know who I'm sending that silent prayer to, but I'm willing to beg and plead. Just make it stop. Just let the baby be okay.
Suddenly Carter snaps into action. "Susan, go get the Jeep and bring it around." He tosses her his keys. He turns to me. "It's okay, Abby. It's going to be okay." I don't believe him, of course. But I nod anyway, biting back more tears. "Can you walk?" He asks.
"Yeah." I nod. We make our way across the restaurant with his arm wrapped around my waist supporting me. By the time we get to the front door, Susan is there waiting with the Jeep. John helps me into the back seat and then climbs in next to me. He barely has time to pull the door shut before Susan takes off.
"Tell me about the pain, Abby. What's it feel like? Is it crampy?" He asks.
"No. I'm not cramping. It was more of a sharp, shooting pain." I see John catch Susan's eye in the review mirror. They're probably both thinking the same thing -- ectopic. They both suggested doing a sonogram, and I blew it off, not wanting any special treatment. But now I wish I'd listened to them. I don't think it's an ectopic pregnancy, I think if it was in the tube, this would have happened sooner. Still, if I had the sonogram, it would be one less thing to worry about.
"Show me where, exactly, the pain is." Carter commands.
"I don't think it's in the tube. I think it's too low." I show him the source of the pain as nearly as I can pinpoint it. He reaches out to touch me, and I wince before his hand gets anywhere near me.
"You do it." He says.
"Right here," I say, taking his hand and gently placing it over the painful spot.
"Yeah, that is a little low." He concedes. "Still … how's the pain now?"
"Better. More of a dull ache now than a sharp pain."
He smiles encouragingly, hopefully. "That's probably a good sign. Any other symptoms?" He doesn't have to say symptoms of what. We both know what we're afraid of. A miscarriage. I don't even want to think the word, much less say it out loud. "Any spotting at all?" I shake my head. "Have you noticed any changes to your breasts?" Not that I noticed, but … I cup one in my hand.
"Still swollen and sore." I say. That's important because a sudden change in the breasts can indicate a miscarriage. If breasts enlarged with the hormones of pregnancy suddenly shrink, it can mean that the pregnancy has been lost and the body has stopped producing all those pregnancy hormones. Luckily, mine are still distended and tender.
"That's good, too." Carter says, giving me another reassuring smile.
"I didn't mean it." I say quietly.
"Didn't mean what?" He asks.
"What I said before … about this being a bad idea. I didn't mean it. Oh God, this is all my fault." I start crying then and he wraps his arms around me. I carefully lie down with my head in his lap, curled up on the seat, which actually eases the lingering pain.
He smoothes my hair back lightly, comfortingly. "Abby, we don't even know that anything is wrong. But it's not your fault. Anything you might have thought, or said in the heat of the moment …"
"It's not just that. I should have listened to you. You wanted to do a sonogram, and I wouldn't let you. You wanted me to take it easy. To rest more. I should have been more careful, I should have paid more attention to what I was doing. Like this morning when I didn't eat … and then you had to practically force me to go home. You told me not to stress myself out. And I kept insisting …"
"Abby, you didn't do anything wrong. If anything is even wrong. For all we know, everything is perfectly fine. Look, I was being overprotective. And just because I'm a little neurotic about it doesn't mean that you didn't do enough. You're right, pregnancy is a perfectly natural condition, you're not an invalid. And we both know that pregnancies can survive under some pretty bleak circumstances … nothing you did or didn't do would cause something to go wrong."
"Well, maybe there was one thing," I say. His brow knits together as he gives me a puzzled look. "You know …"
"You mean?" I nod. "Abby, I don't think …"
"But there's always that risk …" I say with a sniffle, thinking about the abortion. It was a simple procedure with no complications. So there's no reason to think … but still, what if there was something-- scarring or something-- that I would have had no reason to know about until now? Or what if it's just karma coming around to get me? Maybe since I gave up my first chance, I don't deserve another one. And this is God or fate's way of telling me that. Maybe the baby's been given and taken away as some sort of life lesson. Maybe I'm being punished. And maybe I deserve it. But it's not fair to John. And it's not fair to our baby. They shouldn't have to pay for my … decisions.
"Does this feel anything like …I mean, after … ?"
I close my eyes and try to remember what I've tried so hard to forget. Compared to the emotional pain, the physical pain was minor and easy enough to block out. But I try to think back now. I remember coming home alone and being glad to find the place empty with Richard still at work. I was groggy and moving slowly, and so I crawled into bed and curled up, my body still sore and wracked with lingering cramps. No, it didn't feel anything like this.
"No, not at all." I say to John and hear him let out a sigh of relief, as if that proves something.
But what do I know about what a miscarriage feels like? My years in OB made it clear that women experience, and describe, a wide variety of pain. Sure, I know the textbook symptoms of a miscarriage --bleeding and cramping being the hallmarks-- but maybe it can start with a sharp, stabbing pain, soon to be followed by the cramping and contracting. What if it's already happening inside of me? The thought triggers a whole new wave or fear and the tears spring to my eyes. I try to fight it, but a sob breaks loose.
"What's wrong? Is the pain worse?" Carter asks.
I shake my head against his pant leg. "No, I … I'm scared." He squeezes my hand in his and I look up to see his eyes brimming with tears. I know he's every bit as terrified as I am, but he's trying desperately to be strong for me.
He swallows and takes a deep breath, but his voice is still shaky when he speaks. "It's going to be okay, Abby."
Susan glances back at us and does her best to give me a reassuring smile, but I see the concern and pity in her face. "He's right, you know," Susan says turning back to the road, "I'm sure everything's going to be just fine."
I nod and try to think positive thoughts. But that's easier said than done.
"How is the pain?" Carter asks.
To be honest, I'm not even sure. The fear is so overwhelming that it dulls everything else. I feel numb, mostly. But I take a deep breath and let it out slowly concentrating on what I feel in my abdomen. "Not bad," I tell him. The pain itself isn't that bad, it's what it might represent that worries me. "Just kind of achy, I guess."
"Dull?" Susan asks from the driver's seat.
"Yeah. Now. It was a really sharp pain when I felt it at the restaurant. But now it just aches … like someone punched me in the stomach."
"It doesn't really sound like the kind of pain you would have with a miscarriage," John says, his voice full of thought. He's probably busy trying to think up other, less frightening, explanations.
"I know," I say, "But … what if that's exactly what this is." So much for positive thinking. He looks down at me and our eyes lock for a minute before I look away.
And then I realize that the car is stopping. We're at County. Susan's pulled into the ambulance bay. Normally, I would be concerned about everyone knowing my business, but not now. I just want to make sure my baby is okay. If I have to walk through the ER with everyone staring at me to do it, I won't even think twice. And that's probably exactly what I'll have to do.
Carter helps me out of the Jeep and we make our way to the door while Susan finds a parking place. Once we get inside, it does feel like everyone turns to look at us. Luckily everyone is only a few people.
"Did you two get called in, too?" Haleh asks from behind the admit desk. "I think you've already missed all the excitement."
We, of course, have no idea what she's talking about. But I guess I'm not hobbling around too much, if she thought I was here to work.
"Actually," John starts. "Abby's not feeling too well. Is there an exam room open?"
"Exam One," she tells him, while looking at me. She gives me a sympathetic smile, and I give her a weak one. "Do you need any help?"
"No, I think we'll be fine. But Susan will be in in a minute, will you tell her where we are?"
"Sure thing, Dr. Carter." She says before turning to me. "I hope everything is all right." There's something about the look she gives me that makes me wonder if she knows what's going on.
"Thanks." I say with another small smile as John leads me toward the exam room. Once there, he shuts the door and closes the blinds. He hands me a gown and busies himself setting up for an exam. He shouldn't have to do this. He shouldn't have to be the one to have to make the discovery or pass on the bad news to me.
"John." He turns to look at me. "You don't have to do this. We can ask someone else."
"Do you want someone else?"
"No. But …" I look away. I don't know how to tell him that I don't want to have to hear the sadness in his voice … I don't want to put him through having to tell me that I'm losing our baby.
"It's okay, I can handle it." Maybe he understands what I'm thinking. "Just get changed." He goes back to what he was doing, and I start to get undressed.
"John?"
"What's wrong?" He sounds alarmed, probably responding to the sound of my voice.
"Blood." With the pain easing, I'd started to think that maybe it was all just a false alarm. But this isn't a good sign.
"But not much." My husband, the eternal optimist. If you ask me, any of kind of spotting is not a good sign. I know, of course, that it can be absolutely nothing to be concerned about. That's easy enough to tell a patient, but when it's your body, your baby … it's terrifying. "Climb up here, let me take a look." He says, patting the exam table.
As soon as I lie down, I realize that I'm trembling. Carter notices too. "Pain or something else?"
"Something else. The pain's not bad."
"Okay. Just relax." He moves my feet into the stirrups gently. "Tell me if you feel any pain."
I nod and then turn my head to the wall. Staring numbly at the blank space. I'm sorry, John, I'm sorry, Baby. Maybe I'm really not meant to be a mother. Maybe this really wasn't meant to be. I feel like such a failure. Again. As a mother. As a wife. As a woman. I must have done something wrong. This is all my fault. And it was all my idea in the first place. Stupid. Selfish. If I hadn't wanted to do this, none of us would be going through this right now. John's going to hate me. He should hate me. Why shouldn't he? I'm the one who has put us all in this mess.
"It's okay, Abby." He says, as he puts my legs down. His voice is soft and soothing. I close my eyes tightly, trying to brace myself. I just wait for the words I'm sure he'll say next: we can try again. 'It's okay, we lost our baby, but no worries, we can try again,' I can just imagine how his voice will sound when he says it, and it breaks my heart. I try to fight back the tears, but they slip out anyway.
"Abby?" He's moved around the side of the exam table, I can tell by his voice, soft in my ear. I refuse to turn my head. "Abby, look at me."
I'm crying harder now. I can't bear to look at him. I don't want to see the disappointment on his face. I don't want to know just how much I've let him down. He reaches over and turns my head toward him. Wipes away my tears.
"Sweetie, it's okay." How can it be okay? It can never be okay. We'll get through it, but it won't be okay. I open my eyes, finally and look at him. He doesn't look devastated. He looks concerned, but not sad. He smiles when he sees me looking at him.
"It's really okay, Abby." His smile gets wider. "Everything looks fine."
It takes me a minute to take in what he's saying. "Really?" I ask.
"Yeah. There's no sign of active bleeding. No expelled tissue. Your cervix is closed up tight and your uterus is firm, but not contracted. Everything is just the way it should be." He brushes my hair back from my face and then runs his fingers over my cheek, smiling as he looks into my eyes. Then a concerned expression comes over his face. "How are you feeling? How's the pain? Any cramping?"
"No cramping. And there's not much pain. Just a bit of an ache." I smile tentatively at him, tears still staining my face. "Everything's really fine? The baby's okay?"
"We'll do a sonogram and make sure, but I really think so. I didn't see any signs of miscarriage."
I let out a big breath that I didn't even know I was holding in. I seek out his hand with one of my own. Our eyes are still locked together. "See? I told you it was going to be okay," he says. We're smiling over our good fortune, but the tears slip down my cheeks yet again.
"I was so scared." I tell him.
"I know." He says, moving closer to me. He leans in and kisses my lips softly and then rests his forehead against mine.
It's how we are when Susan knocks gently on the door and then walks in. I turn to look at her and she sees the tears on my face. "Oh, Abby …" Her voice is full of sadness.
"No, it's okay." I say quickly, smiling. "Everything looks good, right?" I say, turning to John.
"Yeah." He looks exhausted suddenly. Drained. But relieved and happy, too. He's beaming, actually.
"That's great." Susan easily returns our grins. "You guys wanna take a look?" She asks, gesturing to the sonogram machine that luckily enough is waiting in the corner of the exam room.
"Absolutely." Carter says. I don't need to be convinced. Susan rolls the machine over to the side of exam table. John stands up and moves as if to take over for Susan, but she puts her hand up to stop him.
"Just stay there, Daddy. I'll do this." Her smile turns to a questioning look. "Unless you two would rather be alone."
"No." I shake my head. "I'd like for you to do it."
"Okay." She says, very matter-of-factly. And then she breaks into a grin. "Oh, this is so exciting."
Carter and I look at each other and chuckle. Maybe she wasn't just pretending to be interested in all our baby babble earlier. Seems like maybe she's just as excited about this whole baby thing as we are. Well, almost.
Susan squirts the gel on my stomach and even though I know it's cold, I still suck in my breath a bit when it hits my skin. John's brow furrows a bit.
"Just cold." I reassure him. He takes my hand as Susan moves the transducer over my abdomen.
"Okay," Susan says, "I have an image." She squints at the monitor for a minute. "Oh." She says, biting on her lip, looking almost as if she wants to cry.
"Susan!" She looks over at me.
"Are you gonna let us see?" John asks. Susan has the monitor turned toward her, but we'd kind of like to see what's going on ourselves.
"It is our baby, you know." I tell her.
"Oh, sorry." She says with a giggle, as she turns the machine toward us. Of course, in doing so, she moves the transducer off my stomach, so there's not much to see when we finally get a look at the screen.
But then … suddenly … there it is. My uterus. And nestled safely inside of it, a tiny embryo with a good, strong heartbeat.
My baby. Hi, Baby. I'm your mommy.
Oh God, I'm a mommy. That's my child on the screen, all its strength and fragility captured in black and white. The blinking of its heartbeat erasing all the fear. For those rhythmic blinks represent life. My baby's life. Life itself. Growing inside of me. It's an awesome responsibility. It's an incredible privilege. It's a miracle.
All those years in OB and the wonder of childbirth, the miracle of life, become common place. But now, being on this side of the sonogram after years of watching other women's faces fill with joy at the sight of their child, I finally feel it. What I thought I would never have is happening. It's real. And I don't think I realized just how much I wanted it until this very moment.
With a heartbeat, my child's heartbeat, everything has changed. I knew I wanted this baby. I knew I loved this baby. But now I know that there is nothing that I wouldn't do, nothing that I wouldn't sacrifice for my baby … my little dream come true. Now I understand mothers who put themselves in harm's way to protect their child. Now I understand mothers who kill to protect their child. Suddenly there's one thing in my life that matters more than everything else put together. And I'm staring in wonder at its image on the screen before me. Amazing how I can feel so attached to something that's barely an inch long and is, as of yet, unrecognizable as the baby it will soon be. But there's that unmistakable heartbeat. And I'm blown away.
"Oh." Is all I manage to croak out in my choked-up, speechless state. John squeezes my hand, I turn to look at him. Through his tears, he smiles a smile that could light up the entire city. The entire city at Christmas, even. And I can only imagine that I look much same.
"Yeah." John gives my hand another squeeze. He sounds every bit as overwhelmed as I feel. "That's our baby." His voice is … awestruck.
"It's beautiful." I say as I bite my lip, trying to stem the flow of tears. "Look at that heartbeat. So strong. In something so tiny. It's just amazing." You would think I'd never seen a sonogram before. Of course the way Susan and John are staring transfixed, you would think they hadn't either. "Of course the baby does look something like a tadpole right now."
"But it's our tadpole." John says.
"And that makes it beautiful." I say.
"A tadpole?" Susan asks. "I kinda thought it looked like a peanut."
"Aww, our little peanut." I say, preferring 'peanut' to 'tadpole.' I turn to look at Carter and find him squinting at the screen.
"It kinda looks like Flubber."
"What?" I ask.
"You know, Flubber. That Disney movie. Remake of The Absent-Minded Professor. He's a chemist and he accidentally makes Flubber."
"Oh yeah." Susan says. "The flubber bounces around. And there's a basketball game and the players put it on their shoes. You're right, it does kind of look like Flubber. Big round head-body type thing, stubby arms and legs, kind of a star shape like the flubber when it was dancing around the house."
"See? Flubber. If only it was green."
"Green dancing flubber? What?" I'm confused.
"In the remake, the flubber is green … and it … dances." Susan explains.
"How do you two know all this?" I ask.
"Well, I watched the movies with Susie, I don't know what his excuse is."
"Flubber kind of looks like green Jell-o now that I think of it. Except less jiggly and more bouncy." Carter says for some unbeknown reason.
"Now you think our baby looks like a Jell-o Jiggler?"
"No, I think it looks like Flubber. Hi, Flubber." He says, waving at the screen.
"Oh, you're not going to call the baby that. God, I thought I was the crazy one in this marriage."
Susan is smiling over at us. "Glad to see you two are back to your old selves."
"Well, now that the baby's okay …" I say.
"Does everything else look okay? Do you see anything that could explain Abby's pain and the spotting?"
As soon as I saw the baby's heartbeat on the monitor, I felt a wave of relief wash over me. I pretty much forgot all about the pain that brought me to this moment. I forgot to be worried about anything else once I saw that the little one was safe and sound. But now that worry returns. The baby is okay right now, but what if something else is going on inside of me that will threaten the baby's health and safety?
"Actually," Susan says, moving the transducer away from … 'Flubber' and over to the opposite side of my uterus. "I think I might have. Do you see that?" She asks pointing to a small, dark spot low on the left side of my uterus.
"A ruptured cyst?" I ask.
"Yeah, I think so."
That seems to be the consensus. A tiny cyst on the inside uterine wall that broke. A small, fluid-filled sac … like a blister on the uterus. A cyst can be there for years and never be noticed. Totally benign, perfectly harmless. And you would never even know that one exists until something, in my case a uterus expanding with pregnancy, causes it to break. It would explain the sharp pain that resolved into a dull ache, as well as the spotting. And it's not at all dangerous for me or the baby.
I let out a long, shuddery sigh. Everything is going to be all right now. My baby's fine. I'm fine.
Carter and I are torn between grinning at each other and staring at the screen in amazement, grateful for our good fortune.
"Everything looks great." Susan says. She's been puttering around with the machine. Taking measurements and checking to make sure that's all is as it should be. "The baby looks terrific. No abnormalities, development is right on track. There's plenty of amniotic fluid, good blood flow in the umbilical cord, placenta is in a good location. Textbook perfect pregnancy. And you don't even have any morning sickness. Maybe this is your true calling in life."
"What?" I ask, heavy on the sarcasm. "Growing babies?"
"Yeah, seems like you were born to do it. You guys should have a whole bunch."
"Hey, yeah!" Carter says, all boundless enthusiasm. I haven't seem him this excited since I offered to get his name tattooed on my arm.
"Don't get any ideas." I tell him. "I'm probably gonna get repaid, in spades, for this nice, easy first trimester. Either the third trimester will be hell or I'll have a three-day long labor."
"Well, what if the third trimester isn't so bad and you don't have a three-day long labor? Then can we have lots?"
"If by 'lots' you mean two, that would be fine."
"Abby, two is not 'lots.' Two is a couple."
"Well, what did you have in mind?"
"I don't know. Six has a nice ring to it."
"Oh, there you go, Abby." Susan chimes in. "You can have half a dozen little Carters trailing around after you."
"I don't think so." I tell her. I turn to John. "Six?!? You're kidding right?"
"Well …"
"Okay … me and how many of your other wives are going to have these six kids?"
"So that's a no on the six kids?"
"Uh … yeah."
"Well how about five?"
"How about one?"
"Four?"
"Two?"
"Three?"
"Three? Well … three might work."
"With an option for a fourth?"
"Four? How did we get back to that? Four kids? Nobody has four kids anymore."
"Oh come on, Ab. You said one or two, I said five or six. So three or maybe four … that's a good compromise, right?"
"Easy for you to say."
"Point taken."
"But … if things are going okay--"
"Okay?"
"Yeah, you know, if I have good pregnancies, manageable births … if our kids don't turn out to be brats … then three or maybe even four … well, I'll consider it, anyway."
"Hey guys?" Susan asks, looking over at us with amusement. "Don't you think you're getting a bit ahead of yourselves there?"
"You started it." I remind her.
"Oh yeah. Sorry. But hey, before you guys plan all your kids, do you wanna know when this baby is due?"
"Well, I have a pretty good idea already." I tell her. "I mean, I can count."
"You calculated the due date?" Carter asks.
"Yeah."
"So when's she due?" I don't know if the she in question is me or the baby, since he generally refers to our little one as she. I guess it doesn't really matter anyway since I'm due to give birth and the baby's due to be born. And I guess the fact that I already know when this baby is due is of no matter either.
"How does February 1st sound for having a baby?"
"February 1st. Just like the book said." Carter says.
"What book?" I ask him.
"One of the pregnancy books. It has a whole section on figuring out your due date."
"I didn't need a book to figure out my due date."
"Did you come up with the same date?"
"Well, yeah … I knew it was around the end of January or beginning of February. Not that it matters since babies come when they are ready."
"Well, yeah but you need to have some idea of when to expect them."
"Well, I had some idea. All I had to do was add nine months to the night you knocked me up."
"Abby." He says, probably objecting to my terminology. But I use it … endearingly, in the best possible way.
"Well," Susan says, "since all the dates match up, I guess it's official … less than seven months and the newest little Carter will be here." She pats my belly lightly after wiping off the gel.
"Yeah." John and I both say somewhat wistfully as we watch Susan turn off the monitor causing the images of our child to disappear. Susan catches the look on our faces.
"Don't worry, I made you a tape. And printed some pictures." She hands me the strip of black and white pictures. "Congratulations. I'm so glad that everything's all right." She leaves then, giving John and I a chance to be alone with our good news. Mostly we just stare at the sonogram pictures.
"Seven months. Less than seven months. Six months if our little Flubber decides to show up early." John finally says. I roll my eyes at the new nickname that he's bestowed … or brandished upon our child.
"It seems like forever. Such a long time to wait to see this little person. On the other hand …"
"There's a lot to do to get ready, so it's going to go by fast." He says, giving me a kiss on the temple. "Why don't you get dressed, and we'll get out of here."
"Yeah, I'm definitely ready to get home."
"Well, Susan ran off and she still has my keys, so I'm gonna go find her. See where she stuck the Jeep. Find out if she's ready to go, too."
"Okay." He backs out the door, smiling at me the whole way. He'll have probably told the whole ER our news by the time I get out there. Oh well. Somehow it's starting to seem like maybe this is the right time. I think I'm too relieved … too happy to not share this news. I pull on my clothes and tidy up the room --force of habit, I guess. I carefully put the video and the pictures in my bag for safe keeping before heading out the door to find John. And bumping right into Luka.
"Abby." He looks at me with concern. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah. I'm fine." It's probably the first time that I haven't minded being asked that question. And for once I'm happy to answer it. And with a smile on my face instead of a barely contained grimace. I guess that's what a close call can do for you. Put things in perspective.
"And … the baby?" He asks carefully.
"The baby's fine. Perfect, in fact." He gets the full-on grin with that answer. And he smiles right back at me.
"Good. I'm happy to hear that."
"Wanna see a picture?" I ask.
"Sure."
I reach into my bag and pull out the long strip of pictures, so that Luka can marvel at them with me. He looks on with interest, but I don't know if he's actually interested or just humoring me. Somehow I think this sets the tone for future events. Namely me showing up and making everyone admire baby pictures while I blather on about how adorable my child is. 'Here's the baby crying, here's the baby spitting up, here's the baby's poopy diapers.' Somehow I don't think our friends are going to appreciate it as much as we will. But these sonogram pictures are pretty cool. Luka and I are still laughing over them when I catch sight of John at the admit desk. His brow furrows and he gives me a questioning look. I excuse myself from Luka, who is no doubt eternally grateful for that and walk over to Carter.
"You keep that up, Abby, and people are going to figure it out. We sneak into an exam room and you come out and start showing off a strip of pictures. They're all medical professionals, it won't take them long to put it together."
"I don't care."
"Since when? You were the one who did want anyone to know."
"Maybe I changed my mind. Maybe it's time."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah." I shrug.
"Can I have those?" He asks, gesturing to the pictures. He looks them over quickly before carefully ripping one off the bottom. One that's almost identical to the one above it. He roots around on the desk until he comes up with a red marker. I think I know what he has in mind.
"Don't you dare write 'Flubber' on there."
He gives me a grin as he begins writing on the white border around the picture. I peer over his shoulder as he neatly letters the words 'Baby Carter' across the top, adding 'Due Feb. 1' across the bottom.
"Now what?" I ask.
"Well, I suppose we could make copies and start passing them out, but I thought I'd go a less direct route." I watch him walk over to the bulletin board and find a thumbtack. Then he tacks the picture up right in the middle of the board, over some bright green piece of paper where everyone is sure to see it. He whistles his way back over to me. "It shouldn't take long."
In fact, we've already generated enough interest, and aroused enough suspicion I would imagine, that people are already heading in that direction. Suddenly this doesn't seem like the best idea. We're about to be barraged by all kinds of good wishes. It's a little scary. Then again, I guess they had to find out sooner or later. And they would probably make a fuss no matter what.
Haleh and Chuny are over there now. They check out the newly posted announcement and then turn to look at us. Carter's all smiles, and I've taken to biting on my lip. Here they come. Oh, geez, here we go.
"Abby." Haleh is standing in front of me. "Oh girl, I knew it! Congratulations!" She pulls me into an excited hug.
"How did you know?"
"Hmm, I've had four of my own. I think I know pregnancy when I see it."
"See?" Carter whispers in my ear. "Some people have four."
I give him a look that clearly says 'shut the hell up.'
"Congratulations, Dr. Carter." Haleh says.
"Yeah, way to go Carter." Chuny congratulates him with a slug on the arm. He looks a little embarrassed. Happy, though.
"Abby, I'm so happy for you." Another hug. This one from Chuny. "Did you just find out?"
"No," I tell her. "We've known for … a while."
"But this was our first sonogram." Carter informs them.
"So who knows?" Haleh asks. "I'll bet Dr. Lewis knows. Does she know?"
"And Kovac must know, too." Guess she saw me showing him the pictures.
"Well, Luka just found out. Susan's known … for a couple weeks."
"So," Chuny says, "Did you guys have to try long?"
"Oh yeah," I say sarcastically, "About ten minutes."
"Abby!" Carter gives me a look.
"What?"
"It wasn't ten minutes. It's never ten minutes. Well, unless it has to be or you want it to be, but even then--"
"That's not what I meant. I didn't mean that was ten minutes."
"Oh." I roll my eyes at his easily bruised male ego. God forbid I should poke fun at his prowess in the bedroom. Or the shower. Or the kitchen. Or the empty exam room. Whatever.
"I just meant … no, we didn't try for long." I turn to Chuny with a smile and shrug. "We just sort of decided, spur of the moment, to start trying. We didn't really think it would happen right away."
"But it did." Carter adds.
"Yeah."
"Well, you're lucky." Chuny says. "My cousin's been trying for four years. And nothing. She's on some new fertility drug now and it's making her fat. And a bitch. You know, she called me last week and …"
"If you'll excuse us," Haleh says, interrupting Chuny and attempting to lead her away.
"Have to get back to your patients?" I ask.
"No, we have to go spread the word." Haleh says.
"I can get behind that, girl." Chuny says, letting herself be led down the hall.
"Which side you want?" They head down the hall arguing over who gets to tell our news to which rooms.
"Maybe we should get out of here now while we still can." I suggest.
"Good idea." Of course we still have to find Susan, and by the time we do, the rumor mill has seen to it that everyone has heard the news. We get stopped every two feet for someone to congratulate us or ask nosey questions. After what seems like an eternity, we end up back where we started, at the admit desk, with a crowd gathered around us. After a while it's too much, and I just want to go. I tug on John's sleeve like a little kid. When he looks at me, my eyes are imploring him to take me home.
"Well everyone," He starts. "We appreciate all your warm wishes and all your … interest." Nicer than saying nosiness. "But Abby … and the baby, have had a long day. So we should really get home."
"What's going on here?" An unmistakable voice demands.
"I didn't even know she was here tonight." I say to Susan.
"She's always here." Susan says.
"Are you people getting paid to stand around and chit-chat? I don't think so. Get back to work!" Weaver barks out the command, scattering everyone far and wide, like birds at the sound of a gunshot. Then she turns to the three of us. "Well? What are you waiting for? An engraved invitation? There are patients to see."
"We're not on tonight, Kerry." John tells her.
"Well then what the hell are you doing here?"
"Abby and Carter are having a baby!" Susan blurts out. "Sorry, I've been dying to tell someone."
"Well, she doesn't look like she's having it right now, so why don't all get to work or get out." Romano. Where did he come from? "Kerry, a word with you. Now."
"John. Abby. Congratulations." Her voice is the softer, kinder one not often heard around here.
"Thanks, Dr. Weaver."
"I said now, Kerry. Not when the love fest is over."
"Oh, just hold your water, Robert. I'll be right there."
And then it's just the three of us again. Four of us, if you count the baby. Three and a half? Of course, it's not really a half yet … more like a third …
"Abby? Abby? Are you there?"
"Huh?"
"I was just saying, we'd better go while we can." Carter says. "You ladies ready?"
"Well, I was going to say good-bye to Luka. I have to go pick up Susie at camp tomorrow and …"
"You can call him." I say, grabbing Susan's arm and heading toward the door. I don't want to get stuck here playing Twenty Questions again.
We manage to make it to the car relatively unscathed, save for Malik calling out his congratulations from across the ambulance bay. I didn't catch the whole thing, but it was definitely something along the lines of Chuny's 'way to go.' And I definitely heard, "It's about time already." Something makes me suspect that there's a secret pool going on somewhere.
"Susan," I ask once we are in the Jeep on our way home, "Are people betting on how long it would take us to have a baby?"
"Oh sure, Abby. When, how many, the names and birth weights. Yeah, all we do is sit around and think about you and Carter. God … the world revolves around you, I guess."
"So how much are you in for?"
"Fifty."
"Are you winning?"
"It's looking pretty good so far."
"Yeah, but you have insider information."
"But I didn't then."
"How long has it been going on?"
"Since you got married. Malik's mad because he was betting on a wedding night baby."
"Sorry, we had to disappoint." I look over at Carter who is not saying a word, just grinning at the absurdity of the conversation.
We spend the rest of the ride to Susan's place discussing her plans for bringing Susie to stay with her. Permanently, if Susan has her way. She's of the opinion that Carter and I should spend some time with Susie … practice, she says. Frankly, I think she's just looking for baby-sitters. At any rate, we drop her off, promising to see her in a few days once she and Susie are settled in.
And then there's just the short ride home. We spend it in a comfortable silence. And it's not until we've walked in the door to our home that it hits me. I realize then how differently this evening could have ended. We could have been walking in this door sad and devastated, my body still weak and shaky from having suffered a miscarriage. We could be just the two of us again. No marathon session of congratulations from our friends. No video keepsake and sonogram pictures to pore over. No plans to make for a future with our child. I sink down wearily on the couch, shuddering at the thought of what it would have been like to come home to that reality. And the tears spill down my face once again, tears for what could have been. And the tears turn into wracking sobs, ripping through me. And I can't seem to stop. All the emotion I tried so hard to hold in all night spills over.
"Abby? What's wrong?" And then he's there, pulling me into his arms, holding on tight until I can finally stop crying enough to speak.
"We could've lost our baby tonight."
"But we didn't."
"But we could have."
"The baby was never in any danger, sweetie."
"But I didn't know that. And I've never been so scared in my life."
"I know."
"It's weird, you know?"
"What?"
"How differently you can see something when your perspective shifts."
"What do you mean?"
"Well … the first time I was pregnant, I just wanted so much to … not be. It wasn't a miracle, it was a disaster. It was a pregnancy, not a baby. I didn't -- couldn't -- think of it that way -- even though I knew the potential. So I gave up that opportunity. And I didn't think I'd ever have another chance. But now I do. And … it's just hard to imagine that what I voluntarily gave up then, I would have been devastated to lose now."
"You really want this, huh?"
"Of course I want this."
"I know … I guess … well, until this moment, I just wasn't sure that you wanted it as much as I do. I didn't realize just how much you really do want this baby until tonight."
"I don't think I realized how much I wanted it until tonight, either. I always thought I couldn't … shouldn't have kids. So I spent a lot of years trying to convince myself that I didn't even want it. But sometimes … no matter what your heart says … well, 'the heart wants what it wants.'"
"Emily Dickinson?"
"Yeah."
"Hey. Emily's a nice name."
"Yeah, I've always loved that name."
"Really?" He asks.
"Why do you sound so surprised?"
"I don't know … it's just kind of … girly."
"Well, I'm a girl. Or did you forget?"
"No, believe me, I didn't forget. But if you like Emily and I like Emily …" He raises his eyebrows at me. "It couldn't be that easy, could it?"
"What?"
"Picking a name."
"I'm not sure I want to name the baby Emily."
"Why not?"
"Well, Emily doesn't sound like a very good boy's name."
"What if Flubber is a girl?"
"Would you stop calling it that?"
"Sure. Once we pick a name. What's wrong with Emily? You know, if it's a girl?"
"Too popular."
"So you want something unique? You're not going to make something up are you?"
"No, I'm just not sure I want to choose the most popular names out there. I don't know. We've got plenty of time to think about it, anyway. But right now … it's been a long day. The baby and I are tired. We want to go to bed."
"You want me to take you to bed?"
"Please."
"I thought you'd never ask." I know that tone of voice.
"Carter … did you miss the part where I said I was tired?"
"No, but you're always tired. That never stops us."
"I know. But … well, it's just..."
"Oh! God, I'm sorry, Ab. I wasn't thinking. You've been through a lot tonight. And you're probably still sore, of course you wouldn't feel up to it."
"No, it's not that. I feel fine. It's just … well …"
"What?"
"I don't know. I kinda expected you to want to put me in a bubble." Was kinda counting on it, really.
"You're worried about the baby."
"I just don't want to take any chances anymore. No more skipping meals. No more stress. I'm definitely cutting back on my shifts. I'm gonna rest more and eat right."
"That's good, Abby." He says, leaning forward to kiss my cheek. He lifts my hair away from my neck and starts planting kisses there too. "But you know, I don't really think sex is considered risky."
"Really?" One of his hands is moving up and down my thigh, the other is rubbing my back.
"Actually, I've heard it's a good thing."
"You don't say." His lips finding their way along my collar bone is certainly a good thing.
"Sure. It keeps Mommy and Daddy close and connected. And therefore, happier, less stressed out. So that's good for the baby."
"So we should do it for the baby."
"That's what I'm saying."
"Well, if it's for the baby …" As if his hands up my shirt aren't quite enough to convince me.
He moves away from me and stands up. Beckons for me to follow him which, of course, I do. I follow him into the bathroom where he turns on the water in the tub, carefully adjusting the temperature.
"I guess we're having a bath." I say.
"Well, you're having a bath." He pulls me closer to where he sits on the edge of the tub and begins carefully removing my clothes. The loose fitting pants slip over my hips and fall to the floor. He carefully unbuttons my shirt, letting it slip from my shoulders and down my arms to join my pants on the floor which leaves me standing there in nothing but my panties.
"You should really think about a bra, Abby." John advises me. "You'll be glad later if you give those things some support now."
"Well, these things don't fit in any of my bras anymore."
"So get new ones." He suggests as he reaches out to run his finger tips up along my ribs and back down again. Over to my belly where he stops and looks up at me. For a long moment we just gaze into each other's eyes, sharing this moment of joy and gratitude for our good fortune. Seems that with this baby, we are getting some good luck for a change. John leans forward and kisses my already slightly rounded belly tenderly.
"Eww." He grimaces, curling up his lips.
"What?"
"I think Susan missed a spot." Huh? Oh, the gel from the sonogram.
"Not so tasty?" I ask.
"Not nearly as good as that cherry flavored body foam. Do we have any more of that?"
"I don't think so."
"How about whipped cream? With some maraschino cherries, it would be almost the same thing."
"I thought I was getting in the bath. After all that, I'd need another one."
"We could skip the bath and get dirty on the floor instead."
"And then spend the rest of the night cleaning up? You know, no one ever has to worry about that in those cheesy romance novels. Or in movies. You know, they always show people having wild, kinky sex, but no one is ever scrubbing the bathroom floor naked after all the fun is over."
Carter is looking at me and shaking his head. "You think too much, you know that? And please don't give me any more mental images of you scrubbing the floor naked."
"I'm naked now."
"Almost."
I slip off my panties. "Now I'm naked."
"But you're not scrubbing the floor."
I look at him for a minute. Then I shake my head. "You're twisted, you know that?" I laugh.
"Your bath is ready." He holds out his hand to me and helps me step in. I get settled and wait for him to join me. But he just rolls up his sleeves and reaches for the bath sponge.
"You're not getting in?"
"Not tonight."
"What? Is this practice?"
"Practice? No, if I wanted to practice for being a daddy, you'd have to be screaming and shrieking, or at least kicking and splashing."
"Hmm … I don't think so. And I'm not going to poop in the tub, either."
"Gross. But … good to know, I guess."
"Now that you know, do you want to come in?"
"I told you, not tonight."
He shakes his head as he begins washing me off slowly, deliberately. Arms and legs, back and front. Paying careful attention to the front. Running the sponge all around my belly, up over my ribcage, and in between my breasts. Occasionally he leans over to kiss some patch of skin that he can reach. I turn my head toward him so that our lips can meet in a sweet kiss. As the kiss grows deeper, the sponge is apparently forgotten as I feel the warmth of his hand on my skin. We kiss each other greedily, hungrily and his hand finds its way to my breast where he gently kneads and rubs, causing me to sigh into his mouth. His tongue pushes deeper into my mouth and his hand dips lower on my body.
"John." I say breathlessly when our lips finally part. "I think it's time for me to get out."
"You getting cold?" He asks as he smoothes back my hair.
"No. More like I'm getting hot."
"Oh." He raises his eyebrows at me and then grins.
He helps me out of the tub and wraps a towel around me. And while he dries me off, I do my best to help relieve him of his clothing. It's all wet now anyway, so he might as well take it off. Once I'm dry and he's naked, we stumble our way across the bedroom. He's guiding me as I walk backwards toward the bed, busily kissing all over his chest now that it's bare. With one hand on the small of my back, he carefully helps me lower myself to the bed, taking his place next to me. We seem to be a tangle of arms and legs. And lips. His lips find mine once again as he rolls over onto his back, bringing me along with him.
I lie on top of him, running my fingers through his hair, slipping my tongue into his mouth while his hands roam over my back and down to my butt. I can't help but marvel at the fact that no matter how much a part of our routine this is, it never becomes … routine. It's always different , it's always special. Tonight even more so. Because we're once again celebrating the life that we created. We're celebrating the fact that our baby is safe and healthy. And what better way to celebrate than by recreating the act that created the child?
After all the touchy-feely in the bathtub, I find myself anxious to get to the main event. A slight shift in position confirms for me that Carter, too, is ready and able. Well, that I pretty much know at a glance when he was helping me out of the tub. But now, not wanting to wait any longer, I sit up and straddle his hips. I reach for him and help him find the right angle to join us together as one. And when he's inside of me, I feel a sense of comfort, of completeness that I searched my whole life for. I run my hands over his chest, feeling him thrusting inside of me, gazing upon his face so full of love for me. His hands explore my body -- my thighs, my butt, my boobs … but seem to keep to returning to my belly, the site of the most magical event in our lives. The physical sensations running through my body feel wonderful, but they are nothing compared to the intensity of the emotion that I feel for this man who is, in every way, a part of me. All I have to do is look down at his face to know that he feels the same way.
"Abby … Abby." He's murmuring my name quietly for once, even as I feel his passion building. His hands on my back pull my body down so that I am lying on his chest. He wraps his arms tight around me. We find each other's lips and fall into a deep kiss, pushing us both over the edge.
We lie quietly, contentedly in each other's arms for a long time. Finally we pull the covers up over us and snuggle up together in our warm little cocoon.
"I love you." I say as he wraps his arms around me once again and pulls me close to him.
"I love you, too."
"I know I don't always say it enough … but I feel it. Always. And tonight … more than ever. I was so scared … and I don't know what I would have done without you."
He kisses the top of my head. His hand strokes my belly. "There's no place else I would ever want to be, Abby. Everything that matters most in the world is right here in my arms."
Yeah, I couldn't have said it better myself. I close my eyes, knowing that tonight I'll sleep peacefully because my baby -- my family -- is safe, happy, loved. And that is definitely what matters most.