“Laurie, you’re pregnant?”
“Yes.” She threw her arms around him, which toppled both of them dangerously close to the edge. She lay on top of him and laughed, raining kisses all over his face, and saying “I love you” over and over.
“Hug me. Kiss me. Oh, I’m so happy.” She pulled his arms around her. “Pray. Right now. It’s a miracle, Pierce. We have to thank God.”
Some part of him wanted this moment to be perfect for her. Knew that she needed it to be.
“Father God,” he said. “Thank You.”
Another part stood aside, holding back dread. Why?
“We’ve waited a long time for this.”
Hadn’t they?
“We’ve wanted this.”
Hadn’t he? Of course he had. Laurie was so happy. But—
He took a deep breath. He wouldn’t let anything ruin this for her.
“Thank You, Lord, for blessing our love. For answering our prayers. Please keep my wife safe, and bless our child.”
He looked at her, took her face in his hands, gently brushed away her sweet tears with his clumsy thumbs, and called himself an idiot. He would do anything to keep that look on her face.
“I love you, Laurie. You’re everything to me.”
She sat up, straddled his hips, and lifted her nightgown over her head.
“Love me again. Now.” She lowered her mouth to his. “Make the morning perfect.”
“I haven’t brushed my teeth yet.” He tried to sit up.
She ran her hands down his torso. “I don’t care.”
Again he searched her brilliant face. He wanted to give her this perfect moment, savor her expression of pure happiness. He would let nothing, nothing take that happiness or mar their future.
“Okay,” he said. And he loved her.
***
Dark dust swirled across the church parking lot as Pierce sat alone in his idling car.
Three weeks. For three weeks he had known he was going to be a father.
His parents were, to say the least, thrilled. His mother had cried. So had his father.
Laurie battled morning sickness. Actually, more like all-day sickness, which curbed her excitement. Who could remain thrilled during days dominated by nausea and vomiting?
She’d already lost weight. Their normal morning chatter had ceased. Laurie rose each morning in silence, looking frail and moving as if she battled the flu.
He rubbed a sweaty palm over his face, glanced at his cell phone, and shook his head. If he canceled lunch with his dad again—as he’d done each week since learning Laurie was pregnant—both his parents would corner him until he told one of them what was wrong.
What could he say? That every time he thought of Laurie delivering their child, he remembered the miscarriage and how he’d been afraid she was going to die?
He put the car in gear. Drove past newly plowed fields on his way to town. Spring had battled winter with showers and wind and heat. Now everything turned green.
Life grew. Like his child inside his wife.
He waited to turn left at the Downtown Diner and wished his cell would ring with an emergency. He parked beside the vintage eatery, whose interior dated back to the 1950s—fountain drinks and root beer floats were still served in tall, ridged glasses—and watched the door close behind his dad. Once inside, Pierce wound a path across the black-and-white checkerboard floor to the booth where Daniel sat, and he slid in.
“Laurie goes to the doctor this week, doesn’t she?” Daniel poured sugar into heavily sweetened tea, stirred. “How’s she feeling? Breaks my heart to know the girl’s throwing up like that. Can she keep anything down?”
Pierce knew his father expected a response to each question and comment. “Yes, we go to the doctor this week. She’s feeling puny, throwing up, and doesn’t want to eat. Mostly she nibbles on crackers.”
“Are you taking care of her?”
“Yes, I am.” Pierce knew better than to be offended. Dad loved Laurie. “And it’s good that Mom comes over in the mornings. Keeps Laurie from getting lonely or bored or doing too much. Sometimes people from the church stop by. Julie Matthews from choir. Milly Newman.”
“That’s good. The church folks will help you if you let them.”
“She wants to start decorating the nursery, but I’m telling her to wait until she feels better. She doesn’t like that idea. She wants to do everything right now.” His voice dipped. “I just want her to be okay.”
“Of course she’ll be okay.” Daniel pinned him with a sharp serious stare. “This baby’s a gift, Pierce. Every child is. A miracle from God. Like you were, boy, and don’t you forget it.” Daniel motioned for the waitress to come take their orders. “Lots of women who have miscarriages handle pregnancy fine later on. Or so your mother says, although that wasn’t the case for us. God had another way for us. He gave us you. Don’t be afraid because of the miscarriage.”
After Pierce left Daniel, he drove back by those same furrowed fields. Like a camera flash he saw an image—fields like those beside the road, bathed in shadowy moonlight and silence.
His heart pounded. He flexed his hands on the wheel, checked the rearview mirror, and sped back to his office. Yet, sitting at the desk that used to be his dad’s, he couldn’t help remembering their earlier conversation. Maybe this is what men whose wives had miscarried felt when their wives became pregnant again. Maybe this was normal, understandable anxiety because of what he and Laurie had been through less than a year ago.
He’d grieved, hadn’t he? They’d grieved together.
He did a Google search—“fear in pregnancy after miscarriage”—and learned that some fathers got stuck in grief, some lost interest in sex, and many, many men experienced a marked increase in anxiety if their wives became pregnant again.
Pierce leaned back in his chair and took a deep, deep breath. His emotions were perfectly explainable. Normal, even.
Of course, it made complete sense. He’d simply have to manage it until the birth, without saying anything to Laurie.
That evening he sat on the sofa and persuaded Laurie to lay her head in his lap.
“I can’t believe how bad I feel,” she said. “All over.”
“Shh. Close your eyes and rest.”
He massaged her head. Long strokes through her hair. Small circles over her brow. He brushed his fingertips across her eyelashes. Just to keep her there beside him. Just to feel her next to him.
***
Laurie knelt on the bathroom floor hugging the commode. Yesterday, she was sure she had vomited up her liver. Twice. A small price to pay for her long-awaited child. Could extensive morning sickness adversely affect the baby? Hopefully the obstetrician could prescribe a medication that would stop the spasms. As a new patient, she’d had to wait a month to get an appointment, but after today she’d have immediate access to an obstetrician.
She wiped her face with the damp cloth Pierce handed her. “Thank you, honey.” No matter what, by Christmas it would all be over. The nausea, the vomiting, the weakness. And then—according to the endless caring folks who had already offered her unsolicited advice, harrowing delivery, and humorous parenting stories—the fun would begin. Sleepless nights. Sheer exhaustion. And infinite love.
“Laurie, we need to get you to the car. I know you don’t want to be late.” He helped her sit on the edge of the tub.
“I’m still in my nightgown.” She plucked at it and glanced at his face—he hadn’t even noticed. She half-laughed at his expression. “I’m sorry. I know I’m a mess. I know I’m high-maintenance right now.”
He knelt before her, his tall frame sandwiched into the small space so he could put his arm around her. “It’s okay. I love you.”
“I love you, too. Could you get my denim sack dress? It’s loose.”
She took a breath and managed to slowly stand, then leaned against the wall she had planned to paint pale gold. That would have to wait. Everything would have to wait.
&n
bsp; Except the baby. And the doctor.
While Pierce drove, she reclined the seat as far as it would go and closed her eyes. An endless freight train stopped them at the edge of the city square. She could hear it but didn’t dare open her eyes. Watching the passing cars would pitch her stomach again.
The metal cars clattered by in a slow, steady rhythm. Pierce took her hand.
“You’ve been doing that a lot lately,” she said.
“What?”
“Holding my hand.” Caressing her face. “Massaging my scalp and babying me. Sometimes I actually forget how awful the rest of me feels.”
She turned in the seat and looked directly at him. “Asking Kay to come sit with me during the day was a very sweet thing to do.” She paused. “Pierce, you’re amazing. You know that, don’t you? I get so scared sometimes. I worry I’ll miscarry again. What you did for me after I lost the baby, the way you loved me … all I have to do is look in your eyes and I know I’ll be fine during the pregnancy and delivery as long as you’re with me.”
The crossing gates lifted and he pulled across. She shifted back in her seat and closed her eyes again. They arrived at the medical clinic with minutes to spare. She sat up gingerly as Pierce slowed and waited for an SUV to move from a parking space near the front entrance.
“Wait here.” He parked and turned off the engine. She watched him round the hood, enter the lobby. Seconds later he came out smiling broadly, pushing a wheelchair.
He opened her door and bowed. “Your chariot awaits.”
“Oh, Pierce.” She eased into the wheelchair. “I think I just fell in love with you all over again. Did I tell you they use first names here? Dr. Jordan isn’t Dr. Jordan. He’s Dr. Nate, for Nathaniel.”
“Got it. Dr. Nate.”
Thankfully, they waited only a few minutes. “Laurie?” A nurse called from the doorway.
She and Pierce rose and followed.
“I’m Deb Jordan, doctor’s wife, Milly Newman’s daughter, little Ally’s mother.” Laurie smiled to herself at the typical small town introduction. “Come on back,” she said, and escorted them down a brightly painted hall to an examination room decorated with equal cheer.
No drab off-whites and putrid greens here. Sunny yellow-topped, white chair rails and bead-board. A floor-to-ceiling window centered on the far wall overlooked a small, walled-in garden. Caricatures of the physicians and staff hung in silver frames. Someone had done an excellent job decorating the place to make it feel warm and private, yet open and airy.
“I’ll be your nurse for most of your visits.” Deb winked at Laurie and grabbed a gown and sheet out of an overhead cabinet. She stopped, folded her arms with the gown and sheet still in them. “Hmmm. You’re weak. Green. Hollow-eyed. Means you’ve been sick a lot.”
Deb turned to Pierce. “Daddy, do you want to help?”
***
Pierce blinked as he realized Deb was speaking to him.
“Mr. Crane, would you like to help?” she asked.
“Sure,” he said as she handed him the gown.
Deb laughed. “Are you a nervous daddy? You look as green as your wife.” She offered an arm to Laurie, helped her turn to sit on the low bed. “Everything off. Gown snaps up the front. Open the door when you’re ready. We’ll perk you up before we have you filling out forms or anything else.”
By the time Dr. Nate came in, Laurie was almost asleep on the bed and Pierce wanted to jump through the picture window and gulp the fresh air. This is real. Laurie’s going to have a baby. Though he knew she needed him, he desperately wanted to leave.
As he offered a damp, shaking hand to Dr. Nate, Pierce looked at his wife. The need to protect her, to soothe her, surged through his chest then settled in a clump at the base of his throat.
“Can you give her something?” Why was this guy still standing there looking at him? “Make her feel better so this isn’t so hard on her?”
“I’ll do my best.” Dr. Nate’s half smile was placating at best. “If you’ll let go of my hand.”
“Sorry.” Pierce let go. He put his hands in his pockets. Then planted them on his hips. Finally, he folded them behind his back.
“Hi, Laurie. Tell me, when was your last period?” Dr. Nate asked and sat on a rolling stool. “No, don’t sit up. You can lie there while we talk.”
“About nine weeks ago, maybe. But it wasn’t normal.” She reached for Pierce’s hand, laid her other forearm across her forehead.
“What do you mean, not normal?” Dr. Nate continued scribbling notes.
Sweat dripped down Pierce’s neck.
“Pierce, honey, you’re squeezing my fingers.”
“Sorry.” He dropped her hand, stuck his own in his pocket.
Dr. Nate tapped his pen on Laurie’s chart and pointed. “Yeah, you’ve got a grip there, Pastor.”
But his grip was slipping, as if something unraveled inside him.
Deb squeezed by her husband’s wheeled stool and patted Pierce’s arm. “Mr. Crane, why don’t you sit? Here.” She scooted a chair over by the bed, then returned to her husband’s side.
Pierce lowered to the edge of his chair.
“About that last period,” Dr. Nate said.
Laurie rested her hand low on her stomach. “It was shorter, spotty, I guess.”
“And the one before that? Spotty and short?” Dr. Nate continued.
Laurie nodded, “Now that I think about it, yes.”
Deb helped Laurie scoot down on the bed.
“How long since your last exam?” Dr. Nate asked. “Pressure here. Breathe.”
The procedure was nothing new. During her previous pregnancy Pierce had accompanied Laurie to an appointment such as this. He knew the doctor was speaking to Laurie, but he couldn’t help breathing deeply, too.
“It’s been a little over a year. I never miss.” She flinched. “Ouch.”
Dr. Nate rolled back. “We’re done. Deb, finish up, let her dress, then we need to get some fluids into her. She’s dehydrated.”
“Right.” Deb took over with Laurie, and Pierce stepped away to again look out the window.
Get a hold of yourself. Laurie was already scared. He had to be strong for her. He couldn’t fall apart.
Through an IV, Deb gave Laurie fluids, vitamins, and a medication for nausea. She also loaned them a DVD about pain management and delivery. Pierce couldn’t understand any woman refusing pain relief, and he did not want Laurie to suffer.
“I feel sooo much better,” she said as they neared home. “Maybe we could watch the delivery video tonight.”
“We’ll see.”
“Don’t you want to?” She paused. “I know this is scary after the miscarriage. But this time feels different.”
“Yeah.” He pulled into their driveway where his mother waited. “Mom will want to hear all about the appointment.”
Laurie smiled. “I know. That’s part of the fun.”
“I need to go to the office,” he said as he stopped the car.
Laurie looked at him with confusion. “Okay.” She searched his face. “But don’t you want lunch first? Then walk through the woods like you normally do?”
“No time to walk today. And I’m not hungry.”
She looked at him as if trying to figure out a puzzle. “Then I guess I’ll see you tonight.” She kissed him and left.
Within minutes, he entered the quiet refuge of his office, but he couldn’t sit. He paced, reading through sermon notes as his hands shook.
Just seven or eight more months. It would all be over in seven or eight months.
***
“Laurie, I bought you something. For the baby, really. Be right back.” Kay went to her car and returned to the living room with a large gift bag.
“Mom, what did you do?” Delighted, Laurie smiled and accepted the surprise.
“It wasn’t me.” Kay joined Laurie on the couch. “Or it wasn’t only me. Daniel started and we just couldn’t stop.”
Her baby’s
first gifts. If her lunch stayed put, this would definitely be a red-letter day.
Laurie lifted out the multi-colored tissue paper. The bag contained a striped baby blanket, tiny bibs, a chocolate-colored teddy bear whose softness rivaled a down-filled pillow. And a white book—a little, silver-edged Bible, engraved on the front with the words “Our Miracle Grandbaby.”
She hugged Kay while dabbing at tears of joy with the back of her hand. “Oh, Mom. They’re lovely.”
Kay shifted. “So, what’s your due date?”
“Early December for now, though the doctor says I might be farther along. We’ll know more next week when the blood test results are back.”
“You look better, sweetheart. And so far you haven’t lost your lunch.”
“I hate throwing up. Last evening was dreadful. Dr. Nate said I should eat small, healthy snacks, even if I can’t handle a real meal.”
“We’ll make a list, and I’ll go to the store for you.”
She reached for Kay’s hand. “Pierce is scared, Mom. I can feel it.”
“He’s probably concerned about you. We’ve all been concerned about you and the baby. Being pregnant can be quite an ordeal.”
When Kay left for the grocery store, Laurie carried her Bible to the porch and picked up where she left off in Philippians 1. She lifted her face to the warm afternoon sun and breathed in the crisp, fresh air. Her baby would toddle here. Learn to walk here. Someday run and play here with a ribbon-tailed kite. A child with eyes like her daddy’s.
Pierce. He had looked so uncomfortable during the appointment. He hadn’t even stayed in the room with her when Deb drew her blood. And he’d looked horrified when she suggested they watch a delivery video tonight.
He wasn’t being cute. He wasn’t being funny. She’d seen that look in his eyes whenever he skirted around what was really bothering him. Or when he was afraid.
He who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus.
“Dear God, I know I haven’t been my normal self lately because of the pregnancy. But I know something’s not right with Pierce. Work in me. Work in us. And thank You again for this baby.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
The Spindle Chair Page 7