Eye Contact

by Stacey Grice

  Me: I miss you too.

  The simple reply was all I could muster. I couldn’t even think straight and didn’t want to word-vomit this news in the wrong way, especially when I needed to confirm it first. Knowing that was what I needed to make it all real, I got busy.

  I found a sleeve of plastic disposable cups in the pantry and hauled it upstairs along with my grocery bag full of more than fifty dollars’ worth of home pregnancy tests. After I urinated in the cup, I systematically went about dipping the sticks into the urine and setting them out on my bathroom counter. My cell phone timer was set and I walked out of the room, sitting on the edge of my bed and letting my head fall back to stare straight up into my ceiling fan, which I noticed could stand to be dusted.

  When the timer sounded, I flinched. It was time to face the music.

  As I walked into the bathroom, I could see the results before I even got close.

  Two sets of double pink lines.

  Two sets of double blue lines.

  Three plus signs.

  Two fancy sticks with the word PREGNANT printed in clear, bold lettering.

  Every single test showed the same result and I sank down to my knees in shock. Not one line, symbol, or word was faded. They were all telling me exactly what I’d already felt like I knew at the hospital with Rowan. These tests, all done by me, in a controlled environment, all revealing a positive result made it all too real.

  I walked to my bed, leaving everything where it was to lie there staring up at the ceiling for God knows how long before I moved. I beat myself up for being so stupid. I had allowed this to happen and now I was going to be forced to go through this life-changing event, perhaps alone, and without choosing any of it.

  Beyond the question of whether I could physically handle the demands of my job and schedule while pregnant, I was analyzing every stupid thing. Did I have the patience and emotional fortitude to raise a child? What if Vaughn wanted no part of it? I would most certainly need to hire help, a nanny or an au pair or something. What was my mother going to say? She wasn’t going to be any help, never being able to leave the confines of her home. Was my house acceptable to bring a baby home to? I would need those safety latch things and would have to pad all the hard sharp edges and get a gate at the base of my stairs, probably. I would definitely need a different vehicle, like a crossover or an SUV. Vaughn’s Tahoe would be perfect. I sighed. Vaughn…how in the world was I going to tell him?

  Once I peeled myself up from my pity party slash panic session, I called one of my colleagues in obstetrics on her personal cell phone—there were some perks to working around so many medical professionals. She picked up right away and I could hear her apologizing and excusing herself from whomever she was speaking to at the time. I told her I was working the next day and needed to come see her at some point in the day but couldn’t really make an appointment, not knowing exactly how busy we would be. She completely understood and assured me it would be no problem to fit me in whenever I could carve out a few minutes. She also insisted she would be discreet and maintain my privacy, even amongst her own office staff members, which was comforting. She asked what the visit was for and I hesitated for a few seconds, not quite able to speak it aloud yet.

  “I need to confirm… I need an ultrasound to confirm pregnancy and get dates.”

  “I see,” she answered demurely. “No problem. Call me tomorrow and we’ll get you taken care of.”

  “Thank you so much.

  “Absolutely. Try to come with a full bladder, if possible,” she instructed me.

  ***

  When Vaughn called me later that night, I was dozing off, nearly asleep. I groggily answered and for the briefest of moments, I forgot about my…condition. For just a second, it was nice to hear his smooth deep voice with the faint rasp that made me melt from the inside out, nice to remember how deeply I was beginning to feel for him.

  “Hey you,” he greeted. “Are you already asleep?”

  When reality reared its ugly head at the forefront of my mind, I retreated into guilt and sadness for what was to come.

  “Sorry. I’m exhausted.”

  “That’s okay. Go back to sleep. You have to work tomorrow, right?”

  “Yeah. Ten AM.”

  “Good night, then.”

  “Good night.”

  “I love you so much, Andie—more than anything.”

  I mumbled a quick, “Love you too,” and hung up before I could hear any more, a lone tear sliding down the side of my face onto the pillow, and I thought to myself, We’re about to find out.

  Chapter 41

  Andie

  The following day was odd. The emergency room had a steady influx of patients but there was a nice treat-them-and-street-them flow that lasted most of the day. It was apparently obvious to at least a few people that I wasn’t feeling like my normal self because two different nurses and one physician colleague asked me if I was feeling okay. I almost felt like I was in a weird trance, often drifting off to stare and getting lost in my muddled thoughts. Luckily, there were no traumas that required me to be on my A game.

  Around three o’clock, it finally occurred to me that I needed to try to go up to obstetrics. Rowan wasn’t around, busy with assisting on putting in a central line, and I figured it was now or never, both with my availability and my mental determination to go face facts. I didn’t search for her, figuring I could certainly sit by myself for an ultrasound.

  Once I got a hold of the doctor and was reassured that it was a good time for her, I made my way to the central elevators to go up to her office. I swore I could actually feel my blood pressure rising with every floor I ascended. Nervous was an understatement; I was terrified. I knocked on the staff entrance door to their office, foregoing the waiting room as directed, and was quickly let in and greeted. A sweet medical assistant who appeared to be too young to even have graduated high school ushered me into an exam room in the back and I was asked to disrobe from the waist down, sit on the exam table, and cover myself with the paper drape.

  My heart was racing, my palms sweaty, and my head felt like it was throbbing out of my skull. In all the crazy life-or-death, high-stress situations I surrounded myself with for a career, I had never remembered feeling so scared before. My resolve was unraveling as the seconds ticked on the obnoxiously loud wall clock in front of me.

  A quick knock sounded on the door and I turned my head, expecting to see Dr. Francisco enter. Instead, Rowan came busting through with an annoyed expression, obviously offended that I hadn’t informed her I was up there.

  “What the hell, Andie? I thought you wanted me to come along for moral support!”

  “I did, but I couldn’t find you and I felt a burst of gusto to get this over with so I just came without you. Sorry.”

  “Do you want me to leave? Are you okay?”

  “No, no, please stay. I want you here. I’m sorry I didn’t get you first. My brain isn’t thinking straight, I guess.”

  “Has Kiko been in here yet?”

  Most people acquainted with Dr. Francisco called her Kiko as a nickname.

  “No. She should be in soon. I hope it’s soon—I’ve got to pee but she said to have a full bladder.”

  Just as I was finished my sentence, she entered and smiled upon seeing us both there.

  “Sorry to keep you waiting, Dr. Fine.”

  “Please call me Andie.”

  “Okay, Andie. What brings you to see me? You mentioned on the phone that you suspect you’re pregnant?”

  “Yes. So says about ten over-the-counter pregnancy tests.”

  A knowing smile presented on her face. “When was the start of your last menstrual cycle?” she inquired as she made notes in my chart.

  “I couldn’t even tell you. I haven’t had a period in years…over five years.”

  She tilted her head questioningly and I told her I had an IUD.

  “I see. And do you have any idea when it came out?”

  “It’s still i
n there,” I replied sheepishly. “That’s how I found out about the pregnancy. I was going to have it switched out since it’s been well over the five-year mark, but my colleague insisted we take a pregnancy test first.” There was a moment of pause when I glanced over to Rowan’s stoic face, and then I continued. “I recently started a new relationship and since things have become…physical, I figured I needed to be more proactive about contraception.”

  I supposed I had been too late. I hated that I’d made this mistake and hated even more that I was thinking of my baby as a mistake, hoping desperately that he or she couldn’t hear my thoughts.

  “Okay, so what we’ll do is start with an abdominal ultrasound. If the fetus is too young in gestational age for me to get good views for measuring and dating, we’ll switch to a transvaginal ultrasound.”

  “Okay.” I lifted my shirt as she placed a folded towel across my waistline.

  After squirting a good amount of goopy ultrasound gel on my abdomen—thankfully it had been warmed up first—she retrieved the wand and pressed into my belly. The screen was to my right and I could see a black and gray grainy image but really wasn’t confident in the fuzzy view I was seeing.

  “Well, here we are. You are definitely pregnant,” Kiko said encouragingly. “And I can clearly still see your IUD in there. We’ll need to get that out today if possible.”

  “I thought you weren’t supposed to remove them if you were pregnant,” I interjected with fear in my tone.

  “Some obstetricians agree with that, the school of thought being that removing it can risk a premature rupture of membranes. I’m of a different mindset. If I remove it now, you are much less likely to have complications later in the pregnancy. There’s a risk of uterine perforation and even possible rupture if we leave it be.”

  “Whatever you think is best. I’ll stick to the trauma cases,” I joked, trying to both lighten the mood and calm my nerves.

  The doctor continued sliding the wand all over my belly with varying pressure and capturing different angles and viewpoints. When she clicked a button and a swooshing sound overwhelmed my ears, my eyes widened. My baby’s heartbeat was fast, strong, and all too real.

  The smile that overtook my face actually hurt my cheeks, and I couldn’t wipe it off. Rowan was smiling, the doctor was smiling, and we all truly felt the joy of the moment.

  “So how far along do I appear to be?” I questioned.

  She sat silently, her eyes fixed on the screen as her hands continued wanding and clicking, dings sounding from the machine every few seconds. She cleared her throat and I became hyperaware of every wrinkle in her facial expression. When she pulled the flexible computer screen toward her to more closely examine what she was seeing, eliminating my view completely, I felt the joy leave my body in one fell swoop and instantly got nervous.

  “Is everything okay?” Rowan asked her, detecting my fear and apparently feeling a little trepidation herself with the change in mood.

  “I’m just having trouble seeing something here as I’m taking measurements. Give me a second.”

  Kiko remained professional and calm, but I could see her forehead muscles furrow, the vertical lines between her brows becoming pronounced. I could see how her chest was rising with deeper breaths as she was obviously trying to calm her breathing down. Even the pulse on the side of her neck was noticeable, and I couldn’t help myself from counting her heart rate against the secondhand of the loud clock on the wall.

  “What’s wrong?” I inquired, my voice shaking with unease and anxiety. “Just tell me. We’re all medical professionals. I can take it.”

  She sighed and began explaining what she was seeing, turning the screen back to allow me to see too.

  “You appear to be just over twelve weeks along, but there is definitely a problem.” Her finger rose to point to an area on the monitor as she explained further. “It appears as though your baby’s head isn’t forming properly.” As she continued to talk, the sound of her voice soon blurred and faded until all I could hear was something akin to what the parents sounded like in a Charlie Brown cartoon—jumbled and unintelligible.

  It looked like a frog. My baby looked inhuman. It was deformed, missing the entire top portion of the cranium. I was certainly no whiz or expert at reading obstetrical sonography but it was plain and obvious for all to see, especially to someone with medical knowledge.

  I interrupted whatever Kiko was saying at the time, my thoughts unable to be contained.

  “What is this called?”

  “I’d like to run some further labs and tests to confirm, but I’m confident that what we have here is anencephaly.”

  “It’s not compatible with life, right?” I remembered reading about it in residency, could picture exactly what the textbook page looked like. The congenital birth defect appeared once in every thousand infants, with only about seventy-five percent of them getting to full term and surviving their birth, only to die hours later.

  “Yes, Andie. There’s no treatment for this condition. I’m so sorry.”

  I finally turned to look at Rowan, whom I expected to be teary eyed, concerned, something—anything other than what I found on her face. She looked almost…relieved.

  “What’s my due date?” I demanded.

  “Andie, the likelihood of you carrying this baby to term is extremely low. I know this is a lot to absorb right now, but we can bring you back in once you’ve had some time to…well, we can talk about termination options.”

  “Termination?”

  The thought horrified me.

  “That’s not going to be necessary,” I insisted with a dismissive hatred in my voice.

  “Andie,” Rowan chimed in, “maybe you should think about this before you make a decision.”

  I physically couldn’t hold back the scowl that appeared. It felt as if she had thrown a drink in my face.

  “Thank you for your time, Dr. Francisco,” I said, my tone stiff and curt. “I’ll be in touch once I’ve had some time to digest all of this.”

  “No problem. You have my personal number. Please don’t hesitate to call me any time with any questions you may have.”

  She excused herself and I sensed that Rowan was about to start interjecting her opinions. I held my hand up to stop her before she could even get a word out.

  “Thank you for coming with me, but I need some time before I can talk about it.”

  I swiftly rose from the table and pulled my underwear and scrub pants back on, slipping my shoes over my feet and bolting. I couldn’t get out of there fast enough. I sensed that Rowan was walking behind me but I didn’t wait for her, and when I dashed into the stairwell instead of continuing straight down the hallway to the elevators, she didn’t follow. My feet descended the stairs as fast as I could move them, my brain unsure of where I even was. How many flights of stairs? How many floors? How fast could I run? How could I just disappear?

  I wasn’t sure where and when I stopped, but at some point my feet halted their journey and I backed myself up to lean against the wall, my rapid breaths echoing on the steps.

  I was pregnant.

  I’d heard my baby’s heartbeat.

  And I had been happy.

  For that split second, the sweet sound of life growing within me had brought me such instant elation and pride, only to have that bubble burst by the image of the malformation that was my baby’s head…or the lack thereof.

  It wasn’t okay, and it never would be.

  There was nothing I could do to fix it. I wanted to fix it. I was a surgeon, a fixer, and this was painfully unfixable. I had no control whatsoever of the entire situation.

  The realization hit me like a tsunami and the weight of my body and my circumstances was all of a sudden too much for my legs to support. My back slid down the wall and I sank to the floor, burying my head in my hands to sob.

  My throat cried out to no one. I screamed in an outburst of rage and bitterness, my yelps manic in their desperation. I could barely catch my b
reath.

  Why?

  I couldn’t get past the why.

  I couldn’t keep my mind from going straight to analyzing what I hadn’t done right. What had I done or not done to cause this? Why was this happening to me?

  I felt like the scum of the earth for having thought of this pregnancy as a burden, an inconvenience. The logical part of me knew this defect had started forming the second my baby was conceived. It was in the genetic makeup of our child, for whatever reason, but the emotional wreck that was my heart shouted words like karma into my ears. Karma for what, I didn’t know. I saved lives for a living. I was a good person for the most part, but karma had decided otherwise, and it made me sick.

  It was a while before I was able to peel myself off of the cold concrete floor of the stairwell. When I looked at my cell phone and saw that it was already after five o’clock in the evening, I was shocked. I also saw two texts from Rowan.

  Rowan: I got the rest of your shift covered.

  Rowan: Go home and take it easy. I’ll call you later.

  The thought of my co-workers knowing my personal business absolutely horrified me, but my overwhelming need to escape outweighed my doubt in Rowan to keep my secret to herself. I had to trust that she would be discreet. I had to get out of there.

  Chapter 42

  Vaughn

  Something wasn’t sitting right in the pit of my stomach. It had been days since I’d last seen Andie, and while we’d been in contact through a few texts and brief phone conversations, the correspondence was curt and just…off. She had worked a shift and cited a busy ER and being tired as the reason for her distance the following day, but since then, she hadn’t texted or called at all. When I reached out first, she always responded, but it was as if she was saying the bare minimum to appease me, claiming she wasn’t feeling well when I finally questioned it.

  I understood not wanting to see anyone if you’re sick, but it was me. I could help her, be there for her, cook her some soup or whatever she needed. I offered but she adamantly refused, aggressively not wanting me anywhere near her “contagion” and foul mood.