Page 12 of Blackout: Book Two

Swoosh, swoosh, swoosh!

“And we’ve got a heartbeat,” Dr. Heltzer exclaims. My eyes go wide as I realize that beautiful noise is my baby’s heart and subconsciously, I hold out my hand. When I grab nothing but air, I turn my eyes to the empty space next to me. The place where my husband stood only two weeks ago. A sob erupts from the back of my throat and I quickly bring my baron hand to my mouth.

Swoosh, swoosh, swoosh!

Swoosh, swoosh, swoosh!

It’s the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard and also the saddest because I realize in that moment, I will never forgive Blackie for missing this.

“One hundred and fifty-eight beats per minute,” Dr. Heltzer reveals, pausing in his measurements to hand me a box of tissues. Plucking a few from the box, I wipe my eyes as he continues to examine my little bean.

“Is that good?”

“Perfect,” he says. A minute later the sound fades and he removes the probe. The pictures begin to print from the sonogram machine as he rises from his seat. After he jots a few things down in my chart, he takes the black and white photos and offers them to me.

“I’ll give you a minute to get dressed and then you can meet me in my office,” he says as I take the pictures. I’m too enthralled by my little bean to say anything so I just nod my head. Once I’m alone in the room, I begin to cry again. I don’t know if it’s the hormones, my illness or simply the incredible sense of loneliness I’m feeling that is making me an emotional wreck, but I wish it would stop. Of course the frame of the baby’s heartbeat doesn’t help matters.

With tears streaming down my face, I gently fold the strip of pictures and put them away in my purse. A wave of exhaustion washes over me as I force myself to dress. I wipe my cheeks with the back of my hands and push my hair away from my face before taking a deep breath. Realizing this is as composed as I’m going to be, I exit the exam room and make my way into Dr. Heltzer’s office.

The instant I step inside, I recall our last visit and how Dr. Heltzer turned my whole world upside down by revealing my baby could be in danger if I continued to take my meds. I remember the fear I felt and the distraught look in Blackie’s eyes. He seemed genuinely shattered by the news and now, I can’t help but wonder why. Was a sick baby the lesser of two evils? Did he not want the burden of caring for me if I lost my marbles?

“Have a seat, Lacey,” Dr. Heltzer encourages, pulling me away from my thoughts. It takes a minute for my brain to send the message to my legs but once they move, I’m quickly seated in front of him. My palms are sweating and it’s taking every bit of control I can muster not to burst into another fit of tears.

“Are you okay?” he asks, folding his hands on the desk as he studies me intently.

Uncertain if I can trust my voice, I jerk my head in lieu of a response.

“Right, so, the reason I asked you to come into the office was because of our last appointment where we discussed the risks regarding the pregnancy and your medication. Have you had a chance to see your doctor?”

Clearing my throat, I wipe my sweaty palms on my pants and meet the doctor’s worrisome gaze. Judging by the way he’s staring he probably thinks I’m already on the brink of a breakdown.

“Yes, we…” I pause, closing my eyes before I correct myself. “I have decided not to take my medication,” I say, gauging his reaction.

Aside from nodding his head, he doesn’t give much away other than two words.

“I see.”

It’s amazing how two words can be full of such condescending judgment. Only two weeks ago it seemed as he was on my side, but maybe I imagined that too.

“My doctor is in agreement with my decision,” I defend, waiting for him to respond. Dr. Heltzer keeps his expression neutral, though, and just gives me another nod.

“We’ll reevaluate the situation once I hit my second trimester,” I add. There is a steely edge to my tone but in my defense, I feel like I’m being silently attacked. More silence ensues before I abruptly stand. “Thank you for the extra photos. I’ll schedule my appointment for next month.”

“Lacey,” he sighs. “If it becomes too much—”

“It won’t,” I snap. “I’ve got everything under control. If there is nothing else to discuss, I really need to be going. I have to pick up my brother from school.”

More nodding.

I swear his neck is getting a workout.

“I’ll see you next month,” he says. “We’ll also do some bloodwork then.”

“Great,” I mutter, cringing at the thought of being poked by a needle. Hiking the strap of my purse over my shoulder, I rise from my seat and force a smile. “Thanks for the extra photos,” I add, making my way towards the door.

He bids me goodbye and I hurry out of the office. I make a quick stop at the reception desk and schedule my next appointment. It isn’t until I’m in the safe confinements of my car that I lose it. The tears stream down my face and I touch my forehead to the steering wheel.

The swooshing sound returns, and I think of Blackie.

The smile he wore when he told me there were two pink lines on the pregnancy test and the way his hand tightened around mine when we first saw our baby on the sonogram machine. The pink teddy bear he dropped on my lap and the tender way he touched a hand to my stomach before he was arrested.

Leather.

Lace.

Him.

Me.

A tragic love story disguised as one of the greatest fairytales.

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