Page 86 of Our Final Encore

“You’re dizzy?” Her voice is laced with concern, and it puts me on edge for some reason.

I swallow the pain killer and wash it down with water. “I mean, a little. I’m fine, Mom.”

“How many weeks are you now?”

“Twenty.” The answer comes automatically because even though it’s not something I constantly talk about, I do check my pregnancy apps religiously, so I always know how far along I am.

She looks me in the eyes, worry etched into the lines of her face. “Mom,” she calls out to Mamaw who’s still in the living room. “How many weeks was I when I was diagnosed with preeclampsia?”

Pre what?

“I don’t remember.” My grandmother hobbles into the kitchen, holding tightly onto the walker that we’ve finally convinced her to start using. “Do we need to bring her in?”

“Whoa, what? What are y’all talking about?”

My mom sighs and sits down in one of the chairs beside our kitchen table. “When I was pregnant with you I had high blood pressure, it started with severe headaches and blurry vision. Then my body started to swell up. I had to be put on bed rest and then they had to do a cesarean to deliver you.”

What the actual hell?Just when I thought pregnancy couldn’t get any more exciting. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want to worry you or stress you out. Just because I had it doesn’t mean you will, but I think we should at least call your doctor and let them know how you’re feeling. It can sometimes be very serious.”

My stomach churns and suddenly my breathing feels weak and shallow. I’ve already been feeling anxious about giving birth, but this takes it to a whole new level. I can deal with the pain and discomfort, but I just want my baby to be okay, that’s all I care about.

I’ve struggled with anxiety my entire life. Since I was a young child, I’ve felt like I was waiting for something terrible to happen. Standing on the precipice of disaster every day.

Even that didn’t prepare me for the anxiety that consumes you when you’re about to have a child of your own. Worrying about your own safety and wellbeing takes the backseat, and your brain is clouded with debilitating thoughts of every possible thing that could go wrong.

“Okay.” I walk back to my room, my hands shaking as I pick up my phone. What did I do wrong? I’ve tried my best to stay healthy during my pregnancy, I don’t understand why this would happen.

I google the doctor’s number and tap it, but when the receptionist answers I freeze. Panic grips at my throat and the combination of anxiety along with the dizziness I was already experiencing is too much for my body to handle.

“Opal?” My mom grabs the phone from me and quickly leads me to the couch, forcing me to sit down.

“Hello? Yes, my daughter is a patient at your clinic, she’s pregnant and she’s experiencing dizziness and a headache.” My mom’s voice sounds muffled. I close my eyes and try to take deep breaths, but with every breath I just feel more afraid and helpless.

“We’ll be there soon. Thanks.” She hangs up and both of them look down at me pityingly. I hate this feeling.

“It’s going to be okay, the nurse told me that we should go in for a check up.” She lays a hand on my shoulder and squeezes itgently. “I’m gonna pack a small bag just in case we need to stay over.”

I nod and continue breathing in through my nose and out through my mouth, finally the panicky feeling is starting to subside, but my head is still killing me.

“It’s going to be okay, darlin’. They’ll make sure you and that baby are both safe.” Mamaw gives me a reassuring smile and pats my knee. “I’ll make sure of it.”

FIFTY-THREE

Alex

I’ve spent the day brainstorming ways to get back into Opal’s good graces, but even after hours of thinking, I’ve come up with nothing. I don’t want to give up, I won’t, but I’m terrified that I’ve fucked up everything beyond repair. Maybe she’s right, maybe I can’t fix this.

Now I’m plucking at my guitar strings, writing down the lyrics that just popped into my head. That’s one thing I can always count on, when I have no idea how to speak with words I’m still able to write my feelings into a song. I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.

My phone buzzes on the table next to me, Opal’s name flashes on the screen and I’m so surprised that I don’t take any time to think about it before answering.

“Hello?”

“Alex, this is Melissa, Opal’s mom.”

My brows furrow together and I sit back in my chair, whiplashed by the combination of emotions I’ve felt today, now adding confusion to that list.

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