Page 91 of I Married Kayog
His words struck me like a boulder to the chest. My mate shut down his emotions, closing himself off to me. But he didn’t do it quickly enough for me not to perceive the sharp pain that lacerated his heart at this horrible news. The selfish part of me that needed his support wanted to tell him not to shut me out. But the still rational part of me understood that he was doing this to protect me, not to exclude me.
“It’s going to die?” Kayog asked, pain audible in his voice despite his effort to keep it neutral.
“Normally, with cases like these, the fetus either dies early in the pregnancy or will go to term but die within twenty-four hours,” the doctor said in a gentle tone. “The longest recorded survival period was four days.”
“But what does the baby die from? And like Kayog said, can’t the research you performed on him help protect our child?” I asked, clinging to hope.
“It is not a case of a traditional Edal,” Arafin said with sorrow. “With this specific condition, the abnormal hormones prevent the baby’s organs from fully forming. The fetus relies on its mother to survive. After birth—assuming they make it all the way there—they quickly collapse as they no longer have the necessary support.”
“And you’re saying that this is the case with our baby?” I asked, my throat constricted.
“It’s too early to tell. Your current hormonal discrepancies are simply the warning signs of what has a high probabilityof happening,” the doctor said cautiously. “But you both must mentally prepare for this outcome. If the fetus survives all the way past the three-month period, then it pretty much guarantees that you will go to term. You are now only at seven weeks.”
“Are you saying that we should terminate our pregnancy?” I asked, anger at the unfairness of it all seeping into my voice.
“Only you two can make that decision,” Arafin said swiftly.
“How is that even a decision to be made? You’re saying that our baby is almost guaranteed to be born without the essential organs to sustain life. Why would we want to bring them into the world just so that they can suffer for the short period of time they will be here until they die?” Kayog snarled.
“Oh no!” Arafin countered. “The baby will not suffer. The good news in this tragedy—if I can use that term—is that these babies do not feel pain. They are born with CIP—Congenital Insensitivity to Pain or Congenital Analgesia.”
“How does that work exactly?” I asked, my mind reeling.
“Basically, the nervous system doesn’t send pain signals to the brain. Therefore, no matter how injured they may be, people with that condition don’t feel any discomfort. So it would be a painless experience for the child until they sustain enough catastrophic failures to pass away.”
I hugged myself, tears pricking my eyes as my brain struggled to come to terms with this news. To have been so high with joy at finding out we were pregnant only to crash and burn seconds later like this was beyond devastating.
“Take your time to decide what you want to do,” Arafin said in a soothing voice. “There’s no rush right now. You are both Temerns. You can perceive what the baby feels. So you will know for certain that it is not feeling any pain. And keep in mind that we’re not sure yet whether your child will develop that condition. It’s just the hormonal results that forces us to contemplate the very real possibility of a less pleasant outcome.”
“Why didn’t you warn us?” Kayog asked angrily. “Clearly, you knew that probability existed from the start. Did you do this so that you could run more fucking experiments on the Edal freak?”
My instinctive wish to calm him down and gently chastise him for such a cruel accusation faded almost instantly. As much as I liked Arafin, Kayog’s question was sadly a fair one to ask. That they might have allowed us to become pregnant only as part of some twisted experiment would utterly destroy me.
“No, absolutely not!” Arafin exclaimed, with a genuine outrage that acted like a potent balm on my wounded heart. “We didn’t warn you because we had no certainty that this could happen. Ellen and I had extensive debates about this. In the end, we decided that you had gone through enough already without us creating more stress and anxiety for you based on pure speculations. Again, we truly thought you were sterile. And if a pregnancy did occur, then we would address any complication should they arise. If it was the wrong decision, then please accept my most sincere apologies. We were trying to protect you and did what we thought was right.”
Once again, the honesty that radiated from him further silenced the anger I wanted to direct at him. Had our roles been reversed, I also would have struggled to decide how to handle this situation. It didn’t make any of this easier.
“Fine,” Kayog said, his voice still cold although his stance no longer held the same level of aggression towards the doctor. “But what does that mean for Linsea? What risk does this pregnancy put her in?”
My heart melted for my mate that he quickly shifted his focus on my welfare.
“None whatsoever,” Arafin said firmly.
That took me aback. Judging by Kayog’s expression, he was also stunned by that unequivocal answer.
“Really?” I asked, my tone dubious.
The doctor nodded with conviction. “Absolutely. In previous cases, the mother has never sustained any negative side effects.”
“But what of the abnormal hormones?” Kayog argued.
“Their levels are much too low to have an impact on Linsea,” Arafin explained. “Her pineal gland is also normal. So there are absolutely no risks to her, only to the fetus.”
My mate nodded slowly, and a heavy silence settled over the room as we digested his words. Then, in perfect sync, Kayog and I locked eyes and a wordless communication passed between us.
“Thank you for this information,” Kayog said in a controlled voice to the doctor. “My mate and I will go reflect on the matter and keep you posted.”
“Of course. Take all the time you need,” Arafin said.
