Page 98 of Geordie

“Eight weeks and three days,” Doctor Rivera says.

It hits me that the baby's death happened a few days after the first ultrasound. All this time of not knowing the pregnancy had ended.

“Why did this happen to me?” Lily's voice is hoarse with emotion.

“You did nothing wrong,” the doctor assures her. “It's not your fault.”

Lily rips a tissue from a box on the desk, dabbing at her cheeks. “I went back to work,” she moans, sniffing back tears. “A restaurant is a high-pressure environment, the heat, the stress to perform. Maybe if I had rested more instead of pushing myself–”

She won't look at me as she rattles off excuses. Why would she? After all the times I told her not to go back to the restaurant. Now I feel like shit for insisting she not work.

“Your working has nothing to do with a missed miscarriage, or forgetting to take your prenatal vitamin, exercising, none of it,” Dr. Rivera's calm voice interrupts. “Don't blame yourself. It's because of chromosomal abnormalities that don't allow the fetus to develop–”

“That can't be right. I had no symptoms, no bleeding. Nothing that indicated something was wrong. My body still feels pregnant.”

“I know this is difficult to hear, and I'm sorry, but your body hasn't caught up with the fact that you're not pregnant. It can take time after a miscarriage to go through the complete process.”

Rage builds inside me, with no place to unleash it. “Is she to carry on until it happens?” Angry at the thought she has to wait. The stress of carrying around a dead baby would be immeasurable.

“Lily has options,” the doctor says, giving her attention to Lily. “You can go home and wait for your body to expel the fetus naturally. Another is to take medication to induce the miscarriage, or there's a D and C, a medical procedure that will remove the material from your uterus.”

I glance at Lily, her lip a thin line, weighing the alternatives. I'm helpless. It's not my place to voice an opinion. What could I say that would be valid? It's her body, her choice. Watching her pain, I ache to comfort her, but I don't, not after her rebuff.

Dr. Rivera pushes away from her desk. “Unless you have questions for me, why don't I leave you to talk?”

“I'll have the D and C,” Lily says with no emotion. “How quickly can this be done?”

I twist in my seat to face her; the quick decision is unexpected. “Leannan, don't you want to discuss this? Ask questions?”

She turns a cold, robotic face to me. “I've made my decision, Geordie.” Her tone is flat.

The doctor rolls her chair back to the desk. “Right, give me a minute to see what slots the surgery center has available.”

This is going too fast; the doctor is searching on her computer. Lily has closed down, her gaze fixed straight ahead, tears dry, her hands ripping up a wadded tissue.

“They have time this evening or early morning,” Rivera says.

“Evening,” Lily murmurs.

“I've booked it for you. I would like you to come back here for another appointment after your procedure, in two days. I'd like to talk about the way forward, what to expect. I'd also suggest counseling. Is Monday too soon at two o'clock?”

Lily nods.

“We'll be here,” I respond.

“Fine, I want to give you reading material. This should answer your questions before our next appointment. Please rest, both of you, and call me if you have questions.”

I pass the next two hours, pacing like a wind-up toy, annoying everyone in the waiting room or reading the information the doctor gave us along with suggested links. When I'm allowed to collect Lily, she's still unsteady from the drugs as she climbs into my truck. I pull out of the lot. Lily crumples in her seat, exhausted. “Take me home,” she says.

“Do you mean my apartment?” Remembering the last time she asked me to take her home after her emergency room stint.

“I want to go to my apartment. I need my things around me.”

I selfishly want her at my place. She's stayed with me enough times that I thought she was comfortable. It's the state of her that has me worried. I can't leave her alone, at least not on the first night. “I'll stay with you at your place for as long as you need me.”

“There's no need, Geordie, I'm fine.”

“Have you ever wondered, lass, that I might not be fine? This happened to both of us.”

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