by Kay Maree
Heat crept up her chest and threatened to give her away. She was a terrible liar. Spinning away from him, partially to disguise her blushing and to give her a chance to calm down, she scooped the test she had saved and presented it to him.
“I don’t know what this means,” he admitted looking at the positive test, then back up to her.
“One line is the control line. It shows that the test is working.” She pointed to the double blue lines. “The second line only shows if the test is positive.”“But . . . you are on the pill.”
“I know. But it’s not one-hundred percent effective,” she advised repeating the words she had rehearsed for this very moment. “Sometimes, y’know, if a woman has diarrhoea or something after they have taken their pill, it might not be absorbed and be less effective. It only takes missing one and well . . . guess what?”
The truth was she hadn’t had any diarrhoea, she had been trying desperately for months to fall pregnant and had started thinking that it just wasn’t going to happen.
“I don’t know what to say,” he exclaimed after a few moments. “It’s um . . . overwhelming.” Karl ran his hand through his hair and paced back and forth.
Fear broiled inside of Kiera’s stomach, threatening to make her vomit, or was that just morning sickness?
“It might not be such a bad thing,” she tried, hopefully.
“I can’t be a father, Kiera.” When he turned back to her, she saw fear etched in his eyes. Something she never thought she’d see.
“You’ll make a great father.”
Dropping his hands back to his side, he flopped down onto the couch. “I wouldn’t know what to do.”
Kiera moved to the couch and sat tentatively beside him. “I don’t know what to do either, but we’ll work it out. Lots of other people do.”
“Lots of them fail too. Look at me.”
“Oh, my sweet, sweet, Karl,” she soothed, running her fingers over his arm. They rarely used terms of endearment and it sounded odd falling from her tongue, but he reminded her of a scared child at that moment, and it somehow seemed fitting. “I think because of your upbringing, you will make a perfect dad. I know you will love our little baby. You don’t have to repeat your past. You can make things better. We can. Together.”
Karl turned to her slightly, placing the palm of his hand over her flat stomach.
“This is really meant to be, isn’t it?”
A smile tugged at the edges of her lips, and she nodded her head. She truly believed it was meant to be. It would change everything between them, their home, their lives, but it could only be for the better.
* * * *
News of her pregnancy changed him. It brought about a calmness of sorts. Any doubts Kiera had about her pregnancy were squashed as each day, he took the opportunity to talk to her belly.
He talked about names, and by the time she was two months along, he had already started turning the spare room of their house into a nursery.
“Don’t you think it’s a bit early?” she laughed, as he browsed the internet for decals to line the walls.
“No!” he deadpanned. “Our baby will be here before we know it, Kiera. I read that babies like bright colours. Do you think we should paint the room red?”
“Why don’t we stick with a softer colour? I was thinking maybe something pastel?”
“Pastel?” He screwed his nose up. “Do you want to turn our son gay?”
“How do you know it will be a boy?” She laughed.
“I just know.” He winked, patting her belly.
“And anyway, painting the kid's room whatever colour isn’t going to influence its sexual orientation.”
“Do you know that?”
“Well . . . no, but what does it matter anyway?”
“It doesn’t matter,” he sang, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her close to him. “We are going to have the most amazing little family ever. I think we should have two boys and one girl.”
“Three kids? How about we get through having this one first?”
“I don’t want it to be an only child. Kids need to have siblings. I always wished I had a brother . . . or a sister maybe, but mostly it would have been good to have a brother.”
Kiera sighed with contentment and rested her cheek against his shoulder.
“I love you.”
Karl dropped a kiss in her hair. “I love you more than anything in the entire world, Kiera. My life was nothing until you came along. I couldn’t live without you. You make my life complete.”
Chapter Eight
“Oh, you must be Kiera?”
The woman had a high-pitched voice. She was a little older than Kiera, maybe by three or four years, Kiera had never been good at guessing people’s age. Perhaps because she didn’t socialise much.
“I am,” she nodded, looking around for Karl to chime in, as he usually did, but he was deep in conversation with someone else.
“I’m Mariah, I’m sure Karl’s told you all about me.”
Kiera stared blankly. Should he have?
“I, ah . . . ,” she fumbled with her words, wishing Karl would rescue her. After all, it was his work Christmas party.
“That’s okay,” Mariah went on, flapping her hands in the air. “He chats all day long, he’s probably worn out by the time he gets home. Poor man,” her gaze fell to Karl, who looked up and offered her a smile. “He’s such a sweetheart. You’re one very lucky woman y’know, landing a man like him.”
Kiera’s ears rang with the unusual description of her husband.
“Yeah, I know how lucky I am,” she responded, placing her hand unconsciously on her slightly swelling belly.
“Oh, you’re pregnant?” Mariah squealed. “He never told us you were expecting. Oh, Karl, you are a dark horse, aren’t you?”
At the mention of his name, Karl made his way over to her and wrapped a protective arm around Kiera’s waist.
“I see you’ve met my wife.”
“O, yes, isn’t she delightful? She was just telling me what she does for a living, weren’t you Kiera?”
Kiera opened and closed her mouth. She was doing nothing of the sort.
“Kiera doesn’t work,” Karl announced, his grip tightening on her left hip. “She reads.”
“She reads?” The woman raised a questioning brow.
“Well, I do a little more than that,” Kiera tried, feeling a hot flush starting to creep up her neck and into her face.
“Yeah, she bakes a little too.”
“I’ve heard that,” Mariah leaned forward and announced in a stage whisper. “I hear she is baking a mini-Karl in there.” She pointed a long manicured fingernail at Kiera’s belly. “I bet he’ll be a stud-muffin like his dad.”
A stud-muffin like his dad? Kiera fought back the urge to laugh. Who even said that?
Karl laughed it off, and she wondered if she always spoke to him that way. Was this the woman he spent nights working late with? She shuddered at the thought.
“It was nice talking to you, Mariah. I’ll see you on Monday.”
She flashed them both a pearly-white toothed, smile. “Toodles.”
Toodles? Kiera really didn’t like this woman.
“It’s probably best if you don’t talk to any of the other staff,” Karl leaned in close and spoke in a low voice.
If they were all like that, Kiera wasn’t sure she wanted to speak to anyone else, but why would Karl take her to his Christmas party if he didn’t want anyone to talk to her? Then again, why did Karl do anything?
After what felt like hours of standing around listening to shop-talk, as Karl bonded with his work-mates over a few too many beers, they finally said their goodbyes and headed home.
Her feet ached, and her ankles were puffy. She had read this sometimes happened in pregnancy but had anticipated she would be symptom-free for some time yet. After all, she was only twenty weeks. Halfway.
“Tha
t was fun,” Karl flopped down beside her in their bed, reaching out and pulling her close to him. “I like showing you off. You looked beautiful tonight.” He nuzzled into her neck, his hot breath tickling her skin as his hands moved up over her thighs.
“I’m exhausted tonight. My feet are sore,” she explained. She attempted to roll away from him, but he pulled her back, pushing her shoulder down hard onto the mattress below. “Please, I just want to go to sleep.”
Karl stopped what he was doing and raised up on his elbows, staring deep into her eyes. “You are my sunshine and my rain, Kiera.”
She smiled up at him. He had been so loving and romantic since he learned she was pregnant, but his hands continued to wander her body.
“You can’t just butter me up with a few nice words,” she giggled, then sighed. “Really. I just need to rest. Just this one time?”
His mouth descended on hers, and she tried to resist him, to turn her face away, but he held her in place, her body weight no match for his.
“You make me feel so good, Kiera.” She could feel his erection rubbing against her. “Did you know that? No one has ever made me feel things the way you do.”
His breath smelled like beer, and it made her stomach heave. He wasn’t going to take no for an answer. She knew from the many times before, there was little point in arguing. It would only make things worse, so she closed her eyes and let her mind wander back to that day on the beach. Watching the waves roll in, crashing over themselves in a rhythmic motion and hoped it would be over soon.
* * * *
Searing pain woke Kiera, and she doubled over, clutching her abdomen in surprise. Light filtered through the space where the curtains didn’t quite meet. She figured it must be early morning. Searching for Karl in the dusky light, she found his face slack and small snores emanated from his slightly open mouth.
Another pain tore at her belly and wetness trickled down her inner thigh onto the mattress. As the pain subsided, she tried to roll to her back, but it seemed to open a faucet as a massive gush escaped between her legs, flooding her and the sheets below.
“Karl!” she shrieked.
Karl snorted, closed his mouth, and turned on his side.
“Karl,” she tried again but was cut short as more pain tore through her, threatening to rip her apart. “I need help.”
“What the fuck, woman?” Karl’s voice was sharp and accusing as he rose to a seated position in their bed. “Have you pissed yourself? You filthy…”
“It’s the baby, Karl,” she wailed, unable and unwilling to contain her emotions. “It’s the baby. I need to go to the hospital.”
* * * *
“We’re so sorry, Mrs. Kingsley.” The doctor was an older man with a balding head and full, bushy, eyebrows that poked out over the top of thick-rimmed glasses. It occurred to Kiera how at odds this was, as he was losing his hair elsewhere. She watched them move as he spoke, fascinated. “Do you understand?”
Her eyes glassed over. She understood. She had known her baby was gone before she had even left home that morning.
“We are going to anesthetise you and perform a procedure to ensure all the products of conception are cleared from your uterus. Without it, you are at risk of haemorrhaging or developing an infection.”
Products of conception? Her baby was a baby. A real-life baby. Not a product of conception.
Searching the room, she found Karl standing in the corner. His face stony, unreadable. He hadn’t wanted a baby in the first place. Would he be happy now? Now she had lost her precious little baby. A girl, the nurse had told her before she whisked the tiny body away.
The clock ticked loudly on the wall over her bed, beating in time with her heart. Her baby’s heart had stopped beating somewhere around two weeks ago they told her. A spontaneous abortion. How could that happen? How could her tiny baby just die? Had she done something wrong? Could she have prevented it?
“These things just happen sometimes, Mrs. Kingsley. Our doctors will investigate. There is every chance you will be able to go on to have a normal healthy pregnancy and birth next time. I really am sorry.” The doctor continued speaking while the nurse at her side squeezed her hand tightly.
It should be Karl, she thought. He should be here squeezing my hand. Instead, he turned his back and left the room.
“It will be okay,” the nurse soothed. “He will come around. Men don’t know how to show their emotions, especially at times like these.”
“Don’t pretend to know how my husband will react,” Kiera snapped at the woman. It wasn’t like her to speak to someone like that. Her mum would be mortified. Karl would mostly have something to say, too, but he wasn’t there to hear her, was he? At a time when she needed him the most, she had never felt so alone.
* * * *
Kiera stared at the ceiling lights as they wheeled her from the recovery room back to the ward.
“Is your husband coming to pick you up?” one of the nurses asked. “We will need to observe you for a few hours, but once you have something to eat and you have been to the bathroom, you should be ready to go.”
Kiera didn’t answer, she just kept her gaze skyward.
“There you go,” a man’s cheery voice broke through her silence. “All back to normal again.” It was the orderly who had taken her from the ward only an hour earlier. His words ricocheted around her head. All back to normal again. As if normal was a good thing. As if something had been wrong with her that needed rectifying, but she was all good now.
“Would you like me to call your husband for you?” the nurse asked. She was older than the one she had seen when she first came into hospital. The one she had snapped at. This one was closer to her mother’s age. Small age lines shrouded her eyes. Her dark hair, streaked with the beginnings of silver-strands, was held back from her face in a tight, neat bun.
“I don’t know if he’ll come,” she managed out, the realisation settling in the pit of her stomach.
“Someone else? A mother? Sister? Friend?” the nurse offered.
“I don’t have friends and my family doesn't know I’m here.”
The older woman offered her a sad, understanding smile. A lot more genuine than the previous nurse.
“I know it’s hard, dear. You’ve been through a very traumatic experience. There are people who can help you. Counsellors, support groups. We can arrange counselling for your husband as well if he feels he needs it.”
“I won’t go. He won’t let me go.”
“Won’t let you?” she asked, her face dropping. “Is everything alright at home?”
Kiera turned away from the nurse and stared again at the ceiling. What kind of question was that?
“Everything is fine.”
“Look, I’m just going to come straight out and ask. Does your husband abuse you? Did he do something to cause you to lose your baby?”
Kiera sucked in a breath. “Karl loves our baby . . . .” then realised what she had said and corrected herself, “loved.”
“It’s not always about how much you love someone, Kiera. Sometimes, things just happen. We find ourselves stuck in situations that we don’t know how to get out of.”
“I’m not stuck in any kind of situation. I love my husband very much,” she spat, feeling hurt that the nurse was insinuating she couldn’t take care of herself. “Now, if you could please call Karl and tell him I’m ready to go home, that would be just grand. Thank you.”
“I’m sorry,” the woman bowed her head reverently. “I didn’t mean to offend. It’s just my job. You understand?”
Kiera nodded, but she didn’t understand. She felt the other woman was being nosey, asking too many questions. What had she expected? Kiera to be sitting up in bed all bright and bubbly, excited that she was no longer going to be burdened by pregnancy? She hadn’t chosen this situation, that’s what she felt stuck in. A stupid hospital bed, with a stupid drip sticking out of the back of her hand. Waiting to be tol
d she could return home. Back to where they had been painting the nursery and buying baby items in anticipation of their new addition. A new addition that had passed away before taking its first breath. A life never to be lived. Her heart was breaking, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.
Chapter Nine
The days dragged by, made heavier by the silence that filled the air. It seemed to be worse, deafening even, when Karl was home. They would eat their evening meal together with little more than the clanging of cutlery. She would wash up, and they would sit beside each other, staring mindlessly at the television before retiring to bed. He didn’t try to touch her, didn’t reach out and rest his hand on her stomach in the night. Stopped kissing her goodbye in the mornings. She might as well have been living alone.
During the day, Kiera would return to the library, her reading matter had turned to books on pregnancy and loss. Searching the pages for answers and ways to deal with her grief.
“When I was in hospital,” she tried one night, several weeks after her miscarriage, “the nurse told me we could both attend counselling to deal with . . . everything.” She didn’t really have a name to pin on what had happened. How could you sum up something so devastating with a word? It felt like such a private pain. She had lost a child, but it was one only her, and to some extent, Karl had known. It wasn’t recognised as a life to the outside world, but to her, that tiny baby had represented the universe.
“We’re not going to fucking counselling,” Karl barked in response.
Kiera recoiled. “Well, I just thought . . . maybe I could go? If you don’t want to?”
“And what? Let them fill your head full of shit?” He tapped his fingertips to the side of his scalp. “They don’t call them head shrinkers for nothing.”
“But . . . I just think maybe it might help to talk about it. Y’know, get it all out.”
“There’s nothing to talk about. I told you it was a stupid idea in the first place.”
Kiera twisted her fingers in her lap. “We could try again. Sometime?”
Karl’s jaw twitched and she knew he was mulling over her words. Rising abruptly from his chair, he knocked a glass of water to the floor, shattering on contact.