Page 65 of Resilient Rhythms
The doctor frowns and steps closer to the bed. “Did your attacker?—”
“No!” I blurt out, squeezing my eyes closed as my throat burns. I know what he’s insinuating and I don’t want to think about it. “I-I didn’t realize…I wasn’t planning…” I stop talking as my throat constricts, half from pain and half from panic.
Kimberly offers a sympathetic smile. “Try to rest your voice. We have time to discuss your options regarding your pregnancy. For now, let’s make sure you have all the information regarding your current injuries.”
The doctor nods again, waiting for my confirmation.
I nod in agreement.
The doctor explains that I also have a mild concussion and some bruised ribs but will physically heal. “You need your rest more than anything. Peace of mind.”
I snort, my anxiety already blazing.
He winces. “I can’t imagine how difficult this must be for you to process but it’s important to take care of yourself and manage your stress levels.”
I nod that I understand. And he’s right. It’s not only about me anymore. I’m fucking pregnant.
Pregnant!
How the hell am I supposed to stay calm and manage my stress levels when they feel like they’re going through the damn roof?
I suck in another breath, feeling my heart rate skyrocket.
The beeping sound from a nearby machine accelerates and the nurse and doctor exchange a look.
How can I be a mother when I can’t even stand up for my fucking self? Who would trust me to safeguard a child?
I suck in another breath, feeling the air in the hospital room thin out.
My fingers begin to tremble as pure panic washes over me.
Am I even capable of being a good mother? It’s not like I had a great example.
My vision blurs as my head swims.
I clutch at my chest, searching for oxygen, for some clarity.
“She’s panicking,” the nurse murmurs.
She whizzes by me, a burst of color, as the room swims and sinks and finally stops.
When I come to, nurse Kimberly is at my bedside. “You’re okay,” she assures me soothingly.
My eyes widen in disbelief. I doubt I’ll ever be okay again. Maybe I’m just meant to exist in some weird, suspended state between fight or flight.
“You are,” she confirms. “I know that news shocked you.”
I huff out a sarcastic laugh.
“And you’ve just endured a trauma.” Kimberly shakes her head. “No one should ever have to see something like that coming.”
I roll my head along the pillow to look at her.
She gives me an understanding glance. “Are you ready for visitors? Your husband and father are both in the waiting room.”
My husband.
And father.
