Page 54 of House of Soot

The nurse looks at me with sympathy. “We could check you out. Just to be safe. And if it’s only stress, you can see your mom.”

I nod numbly, following her down the sterile hallway.

"When did the nausea start?" the nurse asks.

"Not long. Mom’s illness and events at work… It’s been a lot.”

“Anything else? Fatigue? Aches and pains?”

“I am tired, but no aches or pains.”

She takes my blood pressure, which is a little high. I have no temperature. “Let’s order a couple of tests.”

I wait anxiously, desperate to see Mom but knowing I need to make sure I won't harm her.

It seems like forever before she returns. “Well, you don’t have anything contagious.”

That’s a relief. “I can see my mom?”

“Well, yes, but you should know your symptoms aren’t from stress.”

I blink, wondering what she could be talking about. "Ms. Hart, you're pregnant."

The room tilts sideways. "What?"

“I take it this is unexpected.”

Maybe I’m sleeping and all this is a dream.

"Have you been using any form of protection?"

Heat floods my cheeks as I realize Blaise and I never discussed it. Not once. I'd been so caught up in the romance, the excitement of being desired. What an idiot.

“I… ah…” I don’t want to admit I was too lost in love to think about birth control.

She launches into a speech about prenatal care and options, but her words blur together. All I can think about is Blaise. Whatwill he say? We haven’t known each other for long. I don't even know if he wants children.

My hands drift to my stomach. A baby. Blaise's baby. The thought sends a fresh wave of panic through me. I'm barely keeping it together caring for Mom. How can I possibly handle a pregnancy too?

“As far as seeing your mother, you can. As part of the regular protocol, you’ll need to wear a mask, gown, and gloves.”

“Of course.” I need my mother now more than ever.

The nurse leads me to the ICU, which is quiet except for the sounds of monitors and breathing machines.

“It’s important that we keep your mother comfortable. Try to avoid saying or doing anything that might upset or excite her.”

I suppose a pregnancy fits that bill.

Mom looks so small in the hospital bed, tubes and wires everywhere.

“I’m here, Mom.” I carefully take her hand, noting a restraint about her wrist.

“That’s for her protection until she comes fully out of sedation,” the nurse says. Then she reaches over to an over-table near Mom. “Your mother insisted on writing this before surgery."

My heart stalls, unsure whether I want to read it.

To my baby girl,

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