Freed (Bound Duet Book 2)

by Stephie Walls

  Dr. Matthews looked to me with sympathy before returning his attention to Brett. It should have been in my file, but I doubted he’d committed my medical history to memory.

  “It took some time for her to get pregnant this time, and we’re wondering if there’s something that might prevent her from either getting pregnant or carrying a baby.”

  I realized doctors had to maintain a clinical mentality with patients and needed to keep a distance between them and us, but bedside manner went a long way, and Dr. Matthews was old school. He never rushed through an exam or hurried through my questions. Unfortunately, that was also why I frequently waited an hour to see him, but I’d never been more grateful for that time than I was at this moment.

  “I can definitely understand your concern, and given Annie’s history, if the two of you want to explore possible reasons for the miscarriages there are certainly options. But I want to be honest with you, it will likely be at your expense. Insurance companies rarely see exploration of fertility as a covered expense this early in the game.”

  “I’ve had two miscarriages. How is that early in the game? How many babies do I have to lose for it to be considered medically necessary?” My blood pressure elevated in a matter of seconds.

  “I don’t know if insurance will cover the cost or not. I just want to be upfront with you so if it’s denied you would be expecting it. I haven’t seen anything abnormal in any of the labs done after either miscarriage. There’s no sign of a hormone imbalance or thyroid issues. You don’t have diabetes. None of the usual suspects with multiple miscarriages are present. We can start by running those tests again, hoping that will give us more ammunition to use with the insurance company, but if they come back the way I’m expecting them to, the next step is an exploratory laparoscopy and hysteroscopy.”

  Brett asked quickly, “What’s that?”

  “We would put her under general anesthesia and insert a scope through the vagina and into the uterus and possibly the fallopian tubes to get a direct visualization through the lens of a camera on the scope.”

  “She’d have to go under, like in surgery?”

  “It’s the best way for us to accurately diagnose what’s going on. You can certainly continue to try on your own, but I wouldn’t be doing either of you any favors if I wasn’t one hundred percent up front with you.” The weight of his stare was heavy, and he reluctantly turned to me. “Each miscarriage raises your chances of another exponentially. The fact Annie has had two several years apart is not a good sign. It doesn’t mean with any absolute truth that she can’t carry a child to term, but it does mean we need to figure out why she hasn’t. This is the fastest way in my opinion.”

  Brett and Dr. Matthews continued talking as though I wasn’t in the room. My physician answered my husband’s questions, and I stared at a blank spot on the wall. In my heart, I knew there would be no resolution from the blood tests but would submit to them just the same. I needed an answer, Brett needed an answer—if we had to pay cash, I already knew we would.

  I didn’t stop my thoughts from escaping my mouth or bother trying to break into the conversation politely. I blurted out, “Let’s do the blood work and schedule the procedure today. I don’t care what it costs or if the insurance company covers it. I need to know.” The moment the last word passed my lips, I turned to Brett as though I was just noticing him there. “Right, Brett? There’s no question we need to do this.”

  His eyes were wide in disbelief—although I wasn’t sure if it was my unusual outburst or my definitive desire for resolution—either way, the shock was present. “Um, yeah. I think so.”

  Dr. Matthews put his hands on his knees and lifted himself off the stool. “Okay, well come on up front, and I’ll get one of the girls to get it scheduled. I’ll have you in for pre-op the day before, and we’ll go from there.” He shook Brett’s hand and turned to open the exam room door. With one hand still on the knob, he turned back around. “I would suggest using condoms until after the procedure. I know you’re anxious to have a baby, but I’d like for us to know what you’re dealing with before you try again.”

  I hated hearing it, but it made sense, so I nodded my agreement. Brett offered me a gentle smile and escorted me out with his hand on the small of my back. We followed Dr. Matthews down the hall where he handed us off to the scheduler. Two weeks from today, there would be some sort of resolution.

  Fourteen days flew by, and pre-op had been a bunch of nothing. Brett and I were sitting at the hospital at the ass-crack of dawn waiting to be taken back. I thought I’d be nervous or afraid, but an eerie calm had washed over me. Brett, on the other hand, was a nervous wreck.

  “Brett, you need to calm down. Your leg bouncing like a rubber ball is making me anxious.” I tried to tease him with a poke in the side, but he scowled in return. “Being grumpy won’t change anything. All it does is make the time before the procedure miserable for both of us.”

  “I can’t help it, Annie. Going under anesthesia for any reason is dangerous, and I’m nervous. It’s the most helpless feeling in the world to sit and wait. Every bit of what happens is out of my control. I’m worried, so give me a break.” His breath hitched when he said the last word, and my heart ached.

  “I know. I do. But, people go under anesthesia every day. This is really important to me, and the answer is more valuable than the risk.”

  “Not to me, it’s not.” His eyes brimmed with tears, and his voice was hoarse. He reached for me and pulled me into his lap.

  With his face buried in my neck, I felt his body quake, and his arms trembled. But before I could say anything to comfort him, my name rang out through the waiting room.

  “Annie Ryann?” The lady was exponentially louder than necessary. It was six in the morning, and there were only two other people here besides Brett and me.

  I kissed the top of his head and then his cheeks before I whispered in his ear, “I love you.” With both feet on the floor, I stood and held out my hand.

  Quietly, he wiped his eyes and took my offering of support. We followed the nurse back, and the rest flew by like a whirlwind.

  The last thing I remembered, I was on the bed being rolled away from Brett with an IV in my hand. He mouthed the words, I love you, just before we turned the corner, and I could no longer see him. I closed my eyes, sent up a silent prayer to a God I wasn’t sure existed and hoped for the best.

  Chapter Five

  Brett

  Three hours had passed, no one had been out to update me, and I began to panic, more than I had when we passed the two-hour mark. Dr. Matthews indicated the procedure normally took one to two hours but could go three depending on what they found. He said nothing about it being longer, and in my estimation, she should be in recovery by now. I’d been up to the nurse’s desk a handful of times, and with each visit, she was more sympathetic than the last but still had no answers.

  Dr. Matthews came through the double doors after three hours and seventeen minutes with a grave look on his face. He balled his surgical mask in his hand before extending the other in a formal greeting.

  “Mr. Ryann, you can come back to see her. I’ll go over what we found with you, but she’ll likely be in recovery for another hour before you guys move to a room. Once she’s awake, I’ll be happy to answer any questions you have in greater detail.” He clapped me on the shoulder in a brotherly fashion and led me to my wife.

  She appeared peaceful lying on the bed, but I hated seeing the wires and tubes coming off her body. There was almost no color in her face or lips. “Why is she so pale?”

  “It’s normal, Mr. Ryann. Her vitals are all strong. She did well.”

  “Call me, Brett.”

  “Brett,” Dr. Matthews corrected himself. “Please have a seat.”

  I mimicked him and sat in a chair next to the bed in the tiny room. “I found exactly what I thought I would. A lot of scar tissue presumably from her previous D & C.”

  “Does that mean it wasn’t done right?�
� I hit a dangerous level of fury in a split second.

  “Not at all. It’s just like any other wound. Every body responds and scars differently. Annie developed a dense layer of scar tissue in the uterus that will make pregnancy difficult.”

  “Difficult? But not impossible?” The hope laced in my voice was almost pitiful. Never in my life had I wanted anything more, but this wasn’t for me—this was for Annie.

  “I don’t believe anything is impossible from a medical standpoint. I see miracles all the time. But I think the two of you need to be very honest with yourselves and realistic about the possibilities of conceiving and maintaining a pregnancy through delivery. The odds aren’t good.”

  Four words.

  Four meager words redefined my world in a fraction of a second.

  I tried to see the silver lining. I wanted to find a bright spot, but even I struggled to see any of this in a positive light.

  “Brett, you need to understand that I can tell you all day long it won’t happen. I can give you the statistics of why you shouldn’t get your hopes up and might want to think about alternative ways to build your family. But ten years ago, a doctor stood in front of my wife and me and told us she would never conceive.”

  He pulled out his phone and showed me the screen. A beautiful family of five shone back at me. Beaming brightly. “The universe disagreed. We adopted our oldest, and two days before the paperwork was finalized on the middle child, my wife told me she was pregnant with our youngest.”

  I absorbed his words and the little snapshot of a story he shared with me.

  “All I’m saying is be honest with yourselves, but know doctors can’t predict the future…and we aren’t gods, even though many of us like to think so.” He winked at me in a lighthearted manner before asking if I had any questions.

  “Not right now, but I’m sure I will later. Will you be the one to tell Annie or do I have to?” It sounded like a burden, and in a way, it was, but I was always the bearer of horrible news in her world. Everyone left those tasks to me, and this one time, I needed someone else to carry the weight. I needed him to do the dirty work, so I didn’t have to pretend to be strong or hold myself together. There was no doubt when I saw her face fall, it would send my world spiraling.

  “I can tell her later if you’d like. It might be easier to hear from me than you.”

  He got it—he gave me a pass. It was likely due to his having endured the same horror with his own wife, but whatever the reason, I was grateful. My head bobbed up and down accepting his offer.

  “Thank you,” I choked out before I buried my head in my hands.

  Most of my life I’d been tough. Just like most men, I wasn’t big on crying, but Annie had the power to bring me to my knees. I breathed for that woman; my life revolved around her—we existed together. There was no way to prepare for any of this—I knew that—but I should man up, be what she needed me to be. If she were to open her eyes right this second, the look on my face would detail what our fate held. I refused to rob her of any hope she might have with my pessimistic attitude.

  When a nurse walked by, I grabbed her attention. “Is there a place I can make a phone call that won’t disturb anyone?”

  She pointed out the double doors to my right.

  “Will I be able to get back in?”

  “Just let the nurse on the other side know who you’re with, and she’ll buzz you back through.”

  I pushed through the double doors to find there was a nurses’ desk to the left and a door that led out to a courtyard just steps beyond that. The breeze hit me like a slap in the face when I walked outside—crisp, clean air—it smelled fresh, almost minty. The small fountain created white noise to prevent me from hearing anyone else and offered me the same privacy. I took to a corner and leaned back against the brick wall to call my best friend.

  “Hey, buddy. How’d it go? Annie come out okay?” Dan hadn’t given me the chance to even say hello before he’d launched into questions.

  My silence told him what he needed to know. I choked on words, and my breath hitched just before a wretched noise erupted from deep within my chest and out through my mouth and exploded into the phone.

  “Fuck…” He breathed the word in distress.

  I didn’t have to tell Dan the details. My reaction, inability to respond, and overall demeanor were clear indications things were not good.

  “Does she know yet?” He asked in the most sympathetic way a man could.

  “Nah, she’s in recovery. She hasn’t woken up yet.”

  “What do you need me to do, Brett?”

  “I don’t know, man. I can’t bear to see Annie’s reaction when the doctor tells her kids are unlikely. It will cripple her.” I swiped at the tears streaming down my cheeks. Desperate to stop more from falling, I kept wiping my face, but the deluge refused to end. The lump in my throat made it painful to swallow. My heart ached, my chest constricted, and I struggled to fill my lungs with air. I was on the verge of a full-blown meltdown, or hell, maybe this was how a panic attack started.

  “Brett. You with me?”

  I couldn’t catch my breath and started to hyperventilate. The heel of my hand pressed into my eye, and I bent over desperate to regain my composure.

  “Brett! Man, answer me.”

  I gasped knowing he could hear the harsh intake over the speaker, but I couldn’t respond. I was a fucking pussy, but I knew how desperately she wanted children, and I wanted them with her. She would blame herself, and I wasn’t prepared for whatever destruction that would bring. This was the cycle of life, the natural progression of the evolutionary chain—it shouldn’t be this difficult.

  “Stay on the phone with me. I’m putting on shoes. I’ll be there in less than ten minutes.”

  I should tell him not to come. Annie wouldn’t want visitors. But I needed him. Maybe that made me a pansy, hell, I didn’t care. Dan and I went too far back to worry about how I appeared outwardly when weakness and vulnerability were sinking their talons in me. If this changed our friendship, so be it. He continued talking, about sports and shit I didn’t care about, but the result was the same. My panic attack subsided, my breathing gradually returned to normal, and my pulse stabilized. Dan didn’t ask me anything further about Annie, and when he got to the hospital, I talked him through the turns to find me. I hung up the phone when I saw him, and he did the same. Stuffing it in my pocket, my best friend surrounded me in a display of affection I never thought I’d welcome from another man. I stood there with my arms to my side and sobbed on Dan’s shoulder.

  “Get it out, man. She’s going to need you.”

  Dan wasn’t married. Hell, he wasn’t even dating anyone. But somehow, he just got what I felt for my wife—he was aware of how deep my emotion for her ran. He had never given me shit about being whipped or played the guy card. He respected my relationship and in some ways, was envious of it. Dan wanted to get married and have the white picket fence but not with just anyone. My best friend wanted his own version of Annie, and because he was aware of that, he was incredibly considerate of my marriage.

  I spilled my guts, blubbering over things I couldn’t control. It seemed like hours, but when I glanced at the clock, I’d been out there less than thirty minutes. The last thing I wanted was for Annie to wake up alone, but if she saw Dan, we wouldn’t need Dr. Matthews to tell her a thing.

  “You need to go back and wait for her to wake up. Why don’t I bring you guys some dinner tonight? If she’s not up for it, just send me a text, and I can meet you in the lobby. You have to eat so it’s the least I can do.”

  “Yeah, thanks, Dan.”

  In an awkward side hug, he said goodbye, and I returned to the recovery room.

  When her eyes began to open, she found me instantly. A sleepy smile graced her lips, and my heart beamed with pride amidst the pain she was soon to face. Even in a hospital bed, she was the most gorgeous thing I’d ever laid eyes on. I stood and kissed her cheek.

  “Hey, sweethear
t. How are you feeling?”

  She didn’t respond, but her smile grew larger, and her eyes closed. It was hard not to chuckle at her drug-induced haze. There was no point in rushing her through it—reality would be sobering enough when it hit, and it would wait on her. In and out of consciousness, or maybe just sleep, she finally spoke a little when a nurse roused her. Her vitals were good, and the nurse assured me she just needed to rest, so we moved to a room upstairs.

  My legs grew numb sitting in a miserable chair watching countless programs on television while I waited for her. Part of me wondered if subconsciously she knew what she would face if she opened her eyes and welcomed the world back. The mind was capable of incredible things designed to protect itself. Annie had experienced far too much pain in her short life, and her psyche played a strong game to defend her. It wouldn’t surprise me for her to wake and tell me she knew the doctor’s diagnosis. But even if she did, I wasn’t ready to accept it as our fate.

  “Brett?” The way my name floated across her lips in a tiny whisper drew me out of my trance.

  I shifted to face her. “Yeah, babe?” I’d held her hand since they wheeled her in, keeping her within reach—I couldn’t let her go.

  “How did it go?” She let go of my fingers to shift on the mattress and sit up. Her eyes were still groggy, but when she wiped the sleep from them, there was no turning back.

  “It took longer than they expected. I’ll let the nurse know you’re awake so she can get Dr. Matthews.” Somehow, I escaped the room without further questions and notified the nurses’ station. They assured me the doctor would be around soon, and I returned to her side.

  “That bad?” There were no longer any signs of sleep lingering on her face or body. She was quite alert and had no misgivings about what she would hear.

  “Don’t you want to wait for Dr. Matthews?” I wanted to slap myself upside the head. She deserved an explanation, and her husband shouldn’t be such a coward he couldn’t tell her.

  “It’s okay, Brett. I already know. Well I mean I don’t know, but I can guess. The question is just how bad is it? Can we get around it or it is a flat no go?”