Page 42 of Beyond our Forever

“Let’s hope not.” At the doctor’s words, we both relaxed a little. Our baby was still in with a fighting chance, so we had to remain strong.

Dr. Meyer went on to explain what he considered to be the best treatment for me. Complete rest and progesterone pills to be taken religiously.

“The risk of loss is greatest in the first trimester,” he said. “It’s not unusual to experience these symptoms, but from my experience this will give you the best chance. In a couple of weeks you must come back, then we’ll know if it has been enough or if we must proceed in another way.”

Yes, yes, I would do anything he said, I didn’t care what it was.

“The doctor said you’re okay to travel once we get out of here, so I can arrange for us to go home as soon as you’re discharged, love,” Bruce announced once we were alone. “Unless you’d rather stay the rest of the week?”

“Let’s go home,” I replied. If I had to lie down all day, I preferred to do so in my own bed. But as long as Bruce was by my side, it didn’t really matter where we were.

He was my home.

“No, Warren,” I heard Bruce whisper a bit later, trying not to wake me up as I dozed while he spoke to my brother on the phone. “We’re not going to do that. This is my family, and I’m taking care of them.”

I could imagine what my brother was saying. Working with finances meant Warren was used to organizing expenses and I bet my big brother was trying to persuade Bruce to accept his help. He knew that our situation wasn’t the best.

“I’ve already organized the flight back to home, and we’ll be there in a couple of days,” Bruce insisted, as he paced back and forth in the small room, running his fingers through the short strands of his brown hair. “I appreciate the offer, but it’s not necessary for you to come stay with us. See you in Tucson. Yes, yes, as soon as we board the stopover flight. Yes, bro, see you at the airport.”

I wanted to know what my brother was saying.

Knowing how stubborn he was…

“Yes, as soon as she wakes up I’ll tell her to call you. Everything will be fine.”

As Bruce ended the call, he dropped onto the plastic chair next to my bed. I wanted to get up and comfort him, hug him and assure him that everything was going to be okay, that fear was not going to win, there was still hope, our baby was still alive, its little heart was still beating in my belly.

???

Three weeks later, I was still resting, spending the day in bed or lying on the sofa. I was beginning to feel like a walrus, even though my tummy was only just beginning to show.

I heard the key in the door and my body vibrated with joy that Bruce was finally home. He never returned empty-handed, he always made sure he had some small gifts for me. Sometimes it was a book he’d taken out of the library, sometimes it was other cravings—more his than mine—of little things for the baby. We already had a pair of sneakers, a tiny T-shirt with the University of Arizona logo on it, and Bruce had even sorted the design of the crib, which a childhood friend who was a carpenter was going to take care of.

“Merry Christmas!” he shouted as he got closer to the bed, lifting up the tree he was holding.

“You’re crazy,” I laughed, as he’d even put on a ridiculous Santa Claus hat.

He was the sexiest Santa I had ever seen, even though our favorite activity was still prohibited.

“Crazy about you, love,” he said, leaving the tree on the table to approach the bed.

As he picked me up to carry me to the sofa, clearly he was planning something and I was dying to know what it was.

“It’s our first Christmas together, with a baby on the way, and plenty of reasons to be grateful, so we are going to celebrate properly.”

His happiness was contagious, and while he was busy putting the tree on the base, hanging lights and the rest of the decorations he’d brought, I was grateful—as he said—for all the blessings that had come into my life that year.

Just over five months later, three weeks before the due date, Aaron Warren Leighton announced his arrival to the world screaming and kicking.

Never before had crying seemed like heavenly music. Despite my difficult pregnancy, my child was healthy and beautiful. He was perfect.

Of course Bruce and I were on cloud nine, lying next to each other on the narrow hospital bed, looking at him, unable to take our eyes off him as he slept in his father’s arms.

“Thank you, love,” he kept repeating. “Thank you for this precious gift, you’ve brought me alive.”

We kissed again and again, happy and more in love than ever.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to be apart from him,” I murmured, marveling at the perfection of each one of his little fingers.

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