Page 122 of Things We Burn

My vision tunneled.

“That’s fine, Chef,” Kane took the phone from my hands before he leaned in to kiss my cheek and buckle my seatbelt. “I’ll talk to her, you just give our girl a stern talking to about getting sleepy in the womb. Tell her to save it for after she’s born.”

I smiled weakly as he closed the door then jogged around the car. He started it, phone pressed to his ear as he reversed.

I stared blankly at the woods passing us by, clutching my stomach. I heard snatches of conversation as Kane spoke to someone at my doctor’s office.

“This is Avery Hart’s fiancé.” At the time, that title didn’t so much as register. “I’m the father, yes. Avery hasn’t felt movements all day. Not since about ten thirty this morning.” A pause. “Yeah, we’ve done that. I’m taking her to the hospital now, to check.” A pause. “Okay, great. Thank you.”

He put the phone down.

“What did she say?” I looked at him, searching for signs of alarm.

There were none. His jaw was slack, one hand on the steering wheel, and now that the phone was down, the other settled on top of my bump.

Still no movement.

My lungs pinched.

“She said the baby is probably fine, but it’s a good precaution to just go check.” He spoke in a relaxed voice, eyes fixed on the road. “If there are any worries, she’ll be there, but again, shedoesn’t expect there to be. This kind of thing happens all the time.”

I massaged my temples. That didn’t pacify me. Doctors were supposed to reassure worried patients. But she couldn’t know the baby was fine. Not like I knew it wasn’t.

I didn’t speak the rest of the drive, I couldn’t. All I could focus on was the horrible stillness inside of me.

There was already a nurse waiting for me as we walked up to the Labor and Delivery department of the hospital. She was smiling, warm, unhurried in her movements. I was doing all I could not to vomit all over her.

Kane helped me put on the gown they supplied because I struggled with my clothes, my hands shaking. He too didn’t rush through anything, his forehead was free of creases, no signs of worry in his eyes. He helped me onto the bed, the nurse returning as soon as I got there.

“Now let’s wake up that baby,” she said with optimism in her voice.

Kane stood beside the bed, holding my hand as she strapped large bands around my stomach and attached them to a machine.

I was staring into space, wondering how I was going to cope with loss in front of Kane and this cheerful nurse. What would happen next? Would I have to give birth to a baby who would never take a breath?

I could barely remember how to breathe as the nurse asked questions, Kane answering them all for me.

She fiddled with dials, and as soon as she had everything calibrated, a definite and loud thump sounded.

My hand flew up to cover my mouth.

Kane stiffened.

The nurse laughed. “That always wakes them up.”

I gasped as another loud thump sounded against the background of a steady patter.

Kane’s head darted to the nurse. “That’s her heartbeat?” he asked in a husky voice.

She nodded. “It sure is. And those loud thumps? That’s her dancing in there.”

He rubbed his jaw, eyes wide in amazement.

“She’s okay?” I asked the nurse, feeling another kick. My mind was spinning. I'd already started grieving her, and yet there she was, kicking. I wanted to burst into tears.

“We’ll monitor you for another half hour or so,” the nurse told me as she typed on her tablet. “But her heart rate looks great, and her having an immediate response to the machines is reassuring.”

That wasn’t enough for me, I wanted to say. I needed to see her. I needed to see her moving on the ultrasound. But I stayed quiet, somehow unable to advocate for myself when it used to be one of my biggest strengths.

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