Page 99 of Harper

“Why—What could happen?” I ask. “Like, what complications are we looking at here?”

Dr. Kim hangs up the transducer, tears the pictures from the printer, then stands up. “I’d like to talk to you both in my office. Meet me there?”

She leaves the room, and I round the ultrasound chair so I can see Harper’s face. “Are you okay?”

“I’m scared,” she says, using the white paper sheet on her lap to sop up the conductor gel on her tummy.

“You’re not alone this time,” I tell her. “We have a great doctor, and we have each other. I’m not going anywhere, Harp. I’m in this with you.”

She nods, but there’s this dazed, unfocused look on her face. “Yeah. But you don’t know. You weren’t there. Last time—”

“This isn’t last time. We’re going to go talk to Dr. Kim and come up with a plan, okay? We won’t leave here without a plan that you’re okay with.”

“Okay,” she whispers, climbing down from the ultrasound chair to get dressed behind the curtain in the corner.

I’m good at comforting people; it’s part of my job description, after all, to manage troubling situations…but this isdifferent. This is my girl. My baby. My heart is racing this time. I’m scared, too.

Five minutes later, we’re seated in front of Dr. Kim.

“I want to reiterate that your baby looks terrific, and everything should be fine,” she says. “But Harper, I’m going to need you to take it easy over the next few months, okay? We’ve got to get to the beginning of March, at least, so the baby has as much time as possible to develop. One of the major complications with placenta previa is vaginal bleeding, and the best way to minimize it is with rest.”

“I promise I’ll take it easy,” she says.

“I’ll make sure, too,” I say.

Harper slides her eyes to me, and I know what she’s wondering: How are you going to do that when we barely see each other? I reach for her hand, relieved when she lets me take it.

“We’ll figure it out,” I promise her, weaving my fingers through hers.

Her very small smile is my only answer.

“Also, Harper…no heavy lifting, no strenuous exercise, limit your trips up and down stairs, and”—she grimaces—“sorry, guys, but no more vaginal sex. Not until after the birth, okay?”

Harper yanks her hand away from mine, folding both in her lap. I’d chuckle at her prim reaction if this wasn’t so serious.

“Harper,” says Dr. Kim. “I’d like to know your thoughts on following up the c-section procedure with a possible postpartum hysterectomy for you.”

“A full hysterectomy?”

“Total, yes. Your uterus is already badly damaged. If the placenta attaches to the bottom of your uterus and cervix, I think it’s unlikely we’ll be able to save it.”

“What about my ovary?” asks Harper. “My eggs?”

“You want to keep them?”

“If possible.”

“Right. Okay. Well, I think you could keep your ovary, but I have to warn you that it could be injured during the hysterectomy procedure.” Dr. Kim hesitates. “Normally, I’d recommend that a woman harvest her eggs before a hysterectomy, but in your case, I wouldn’t risk it. Not while pregnant. That said, I could do my best to be very careful about leaving your ovary in play. You wouldn’t be able to carry another pregnancy without a uterus, of course. But you would be able to have an egg harvested from your ovary, fertilized externally, and carried to term by a surrogate.”

“That’s a lot of steps for another baby,” she whispers.

“Harper, the fact that you got pregnant again naturally…” She shakes her head. “I can’t tell you how low the odds were. My colleagues refer to you as the ‘miracle mom.’”

“But this might be it.”

Dr. Kim nods, her voice gentle when she agrees. “It might be.”

Harper sucks in a choppy breath, nodding solemnly.

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