Page 62 of Finding Home with You

“She’s coming to,” a muffled voice says and it sounds like it’s coming from above me. I hear the sound of sirens and a low beeping sound as a blood pressure cuff constricts on my arm.

“Erin, Erin, can you hear me?” the voice asks. I nod my head. “You were in a car accident. You’re in the ambulance now and we’re taking you to the hospital. Is there anyone we can call?”

I nod again and mutter Ryan’s name hoping they’ve found my cell phone, but before I can give them any more information I lose consciousness again.

When I wake again, I’m in the hospital, my head throbbing and my arm in a cast. There’s no one around and I suddenly feel scared and alone, wishing at this moment for anyone to come through the door and explain to me what’s just happened.

I have a vague recollection of the car accident, but it was obviously far more serious than I remember. I try to sit up, but a jolt of pain shoots through the side of my body and I clutch my ribs.

“Fuck,” I mumble just as a perky young nurse walks into the room.

“Painful, huh?” she says, flipping through the chart at the end of the bed. “I’ll get you something for that.” And she walks out without saying anything else.

A few seconds later she returns with a small foil packet and pitcher of water, and slides a tray over the bed. Pouring a cup of water, she opens the painkillers and hands them to me.

“Sorry, it’s just extra strength acetaminophen. Can’t give you much else,” she says ,shrugging her shoulders as she adjusts the bed so I’m now sitting up.

I take the pills and drink the rest of the water feeling it coat my dry, sore throat.

“What the hell happened?” I ask her, lifting my casted arm as if she doesn’t realize it’s there.

“You had a car accident,” she responds casually. “Broke your arm and you have a concussion, but other than that you’re all good.” She mills about the room turning on the lights, opening the curtains, and updating my chart.

I look around the room, taking everything in, but it certainly doesn’t look like the ER, and I realize not only do I not remember exactly what happened; I have no idea where I’m at.

“Where am I? Gloucester?” I ask, waiting for her to get annoyed with my confusion.

“No,” she says, stopping what she’s doing. “You’re at Mass General. What would make you think you’re in Gloucester?”

“I don’t know.” I shrug my shoulders trying to piece together everything that happened. I remember getting onto the highway, but I don’t recall how far I traveled before the brakes on the SUV went out. “I wasn’t sure where I was on the highway when the accident happened.”

“Must have been closer to Boston,” she says, now taking a seat in a chair that’s positioned in the corner of the room. “The paramedics tried to reach the emergency contact you gave them, but he didn’t pick up, so they brought you into the ER but they sent you up here once they figured out you’re pregnant.”

Her words come out so quickly and casually that I nearly miss the last part.

I’m pregnant.

I don’t say anything, her words hanging heavy in the air as I try to process them. The room feels warm and I tug at the neck of the hospital gown trying to ease the sudden feeling of dizziness that overtakes me.

“You didn’t know,” she says and I can’t tell if it’s a question or comment almost shaming herself for telling me the way she did.

I shake my head and swallow hard as I feel tears form in my eyes and before either of us can say anything else, I’m crying. Not just crying, sobbing. I’m completely overwhelmed by this news, and it’s definitely something I didn’t see coming.

“I’m so sorry,” the nurse says, sitting down next to me on the bed. “I just assumed you knew and since you were unconscious when they brought you in…” she trails off as she hands me a box of tissues.

“Is the baby okay?” I sputter out through ragged breaths, suddenly wishing Ryan were here with me.

“Oh, yes, absolutely. That little nugget in there is just fine, but you’re gonna have to stick around for another day so we can monitor you and the baby,” she says, this time perking up a bit. “You’re about twelve weeks along. Do you want to see your ultrasound pictures?” she asks and I nod because answering her right now wouldn’t even sound like words.

She walks to the end of the bed, and pulls the ultrasound photos from my chart. Just as I begin to calm down, swiping at my eyes and nose with a tissue, she hands me a strip of pictures.

If I thought I was calming down, I was wrong, I’m back to sobbing again as I pull the pictures through my fingers seeing the little black circle in each one.

“That’s your baby,” she says, pointing at one of the pictures. “Like a tiny little bean. Sorry you weren’t awake when they did the ultrasound, but they had to sedate you in order to reset your wrist.” And then she pours me another glass of water and sets it down on the tray.

I’m still staring at the pictures of the baby, when she asks if I need anything else. I shake my head and she gives me one last smile before turning her attention back to my chart.

“It looks like they’re still trying to reach your emergency contact. Ryan Summers?” she asks, her eyebrows raised. “I’d hate to speculate since look where it got me last time.” She’s smiling as I’m still sobbing into my ultrasound photos.

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