Page 75 of Waiting for Tuesday

* * *

“How far along are you, Miss Patil?”

The doctor moved the ultrasound on my belly, the question echoing through the room like a violent alarm. My baby was safe, its heart beating fast and strong on the monitor, but I still couldn’t breathe. I was out of days, out of hours, out of minutes. I was out of time with John.

The doctor’s hands moved to palpate my belly, checking for pain, but his words kept rolling around in my head.How far along are you?It was the question that when answered would reveal everything, and my heart was screaming for me to run away. Because when I answered it, my time would be over. My eyes shifted to John, to his legs braced apart and his face hard with worry. I didn’t want him to find out this way. I wanted time to explain, to convince him it was an accident, to beg him to believe me, but I didn’t have that now. I was looking into his eyes, knowing it was the end, and yet he was holding my hand, telling me everything would be okay.

The doctor asked the question again, and I shook my head and started to cry. John’s eyes narrowed slightly, as though reading something on my face. His expression hardened, and he tilted his head toward the doctor, silently telling me to answer the question.

“Twelve weeks,” I whispered, but the sound was so quiet, said between heart-wrenching sobs, that the doctor asked me to say it again.

“Twelve weeks,” I said as clearly as I could.

The doctor nodded, scribbled notes in my chart, but all I could do was look at John. To the expression on his face that was filled withconfusion. But there was pain there too. Pain that I put there. He took his hand from mine and stepped backward, just as I knew he would. He was leaving me. This was the end. He was leaving me, and I deserved it.

I sat up, my eyes welling with tears as I tried to get off the bed. I needed him to listen to me. I needed him to know this wasn’t what he was thinking. I needed to explain. But the doctor urged me back on the bed, telling me I needed to stay settled, and John moved farther and farther away from me.

“John,” I whispered. “Listen to me.” I needed him to look at me, toseeme, to know that I wouldn’t purposely do this to him. “I love you.” And although my words were almost so quiet I couldn’t hear them, his face twisted in pain at the sound of them.

The doctor continued to ask me questions, but I couldn’t focus enough to answer. Because my heart was dying as I watched John turn around and walk out the door.

* * *

An hour later, I lay in bed watching the rain fall, spattering against the large window of my hospital room. Giant, thudding drops, telling me the storm wasn’t close to being over. I wrapped my arms around my abdomen and closed my eyes. I was trying to block out the chill that had settled in the dim room, fiercely wanting to protect the baby I’d only just found out about, but was already terrified of losing.

There was desperation in my heart that was foreign to me. A gut-wrenching, heartbreaking desire to wake up—but my eyes had been open for a long time now, and everything that had happened over the past eight weeks was mine to own.

“I’m prescribing light bed rest until you can get in to see your primary doctor.”

I nodded, turning to watch the doctor scribble something on my chart before I looked out of the window again. John hadn’t come back yet, but his truck was still in the parking lot. I could see it from my bed, and the sight of it gave me hope.

“The ultrasound was clear, and I don’t see any signs of bleeding inside the uterus. But just as a precaution, no sex, no exercise, no shopping. Just stay off your feet for a few days, and if the bleeding continues, come back in. Do you have any questions?”

I wrapped my arms around my belly and shook my head. “Why am I bleeding? Is it because of the fall?”

He scrunched his shoulders and lowered his clipboard. “It could be anything. Possibly your fall.” He lowered his pen and looked at me. “Blood volume increases during pregnancy. Tissue becomes more delicate. There could be any number of reasons. But I don’t want you to worry. Twenty-five percent of women bleed during pregnancy for completely benign reasons. Your baby looks strong and healthy. You’re over twelve weeks, which means you’re out of the danger zone. Chances are this will be a one-time event. Follow up next week with your primary doctor. It was likely just a vaginal tear and this will be the end of it.”

I pulled in a breath, looked out the window again, and nodded. He closed the folder and patted me on the knee. “You’re free to go whenever you’re ready.”

“Thank you,” I whispered, then turned back to the window and continued to watch the rain.

A tap sounded at my hospital door a short time later, and the door opened just as I looked up. John walked into the room, his head covered by a drenched hoodie, his eyes hollow, but possibly looking more beautiful than I’d ever seen him before.

I swallowed, sat up a little straighter and folded my hands in my lap.

I’m not ready for this.

I knew when I saw his truck he’d be back, that I couldn't avoid this conversation forever, but I wasn’t ready. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever be.

I pressed my fingers hard against my lips, trying to prevent the sob, but it was too late. I hated seeing him like this—hated knowing I was the cause of it. “John, I?”

But he held up his hand, stopping my words, and sat down in the chair beside my bed. His head sagged from his strong shoulders, defeated in a way I’d never witnessed in him before. Then he sat forward, bracing his arms on his knees as he looked at the floor. “Is the baby okay?”

I pulled in a jagged, painful breath. “Yes.”

He looked to the window where the rain had softened, but the sky was as menacing as ever. Then his eyes met mine for the first time, the deepest, darkest brown that bared a thousand souls. He shifted his gaze to my belly and pressed his fingers to his lips. “How long have you known?” His face contorted with pain.

My chin began to quiver, but I wouldn’t look down. “Five days.” The admission of truth caused my stomach to roll in disgust, but I welcomed the discomfort. I deserved it.

---