by Pat Warren
Jeff had never seen Danny smile, but he was smiling now even though his eyes were suspiciously bright. “I can’t believe you’re giving me this chance, but yes, I say yes. I won’t let you down, Doctor.”
“I know you won’t.”
Later, after they’d introduced Danny to Maria and she started fussing over him, settling him in, Jeff checked his watch and saw that it was already three in the afternoon. “Well, honey,” he said to Tish, “I guess it’s too late for your surprise.”
“Yes, but I’m so proud of you, Jeff. You’re making a real difference in that boy’s life.”
“We both are. Mind telling me what I missed?”
She shrugged and moved into his arms. “Nothing much. Just a trip to Disneyland. We’ll get there one day.”
“But we never did get to Disneyland yet, did we, honey? Never mind. You just get well and I’ll take you there, I promise.” He held Tish’s hand and planted a tender kiss on her forehead.
“I think that was the only time I disappointed you for a whole day. Of course, there were other small disappointments, like when I had one emergency after another at the hospital and you’d worked so hard to make a special dinner that dried up by the time I finally made it home. Or even worse, I guess, when I got home too tired to eat or talk or do most anything, except to drop into bed for eight hours or so, then get up and start the routine all over again. I wasn’t home much, but I kept telling you this wouldn’t last, that it wouldn’t be forever. I don’t know if you believed me or not.”
He ran a hand over his head, upset by his own thoughts, his memories. “I left you alone too much, didn’t I? And it seemed that everyone in the building worked. You had no one to talk to, no friend nearby. Then there was all the morning sickness. It was especially hard on you because you’d always been so healthy. And here you were, throwing up, unable to eat, all alone.” He sat up, angry at himself. “Damn! I’m a doctor. I should have seen the signs of trouble ahead.” He leaned forward, dropping his head in his hands. “But, God help me, I didn’t. I let you down, Tish.”
For several long minutes, he sat that way, eyes closed, beating himself up mentally for past mistakes. He knew better, knew you couldn’t change the past. Yet he wallowed in his guilt, wishing with all his might he could turn back the clock.
Finally, with a heartfelt sigh, he sat up and took Tish’s hand in his. “I hope you forgive me for all that. I could blame it on being young, on simply wanting to get that period of my life over and done with so I could get to the good part. I know now that you can’t do that, that we should savor each and every day because we never know how many we have left. I should have known that after the ordeal in Idaho, but I guess I forgot.” Gently he kissed her hand. “Forgive me, sweetheart, please?
“I was lonely, too. Your morning sickness and my fatigue drove a wedge between us. When I had a rare day off, you were so sick you spent it in bed. When you felt good and wanted to go out, I had to work. Man, if ever there was a catch-22, that was us.
“But, honey, you have to know, through it all, I loved you. Even on the rough days, all I wanted was to be with you. When I was away, I counted the hours until I could hurry home and hold you. One good thing we always had between us was that overwhelming attraction. No matter how tired either of us was, just a touch, a look, and we were ready to climb in bed and make love. I believe it’s what held us together all those difficult weeks. And I believe you loved me through all that time, too.”
“Then the worst thing imaginable happened.” Looking at his wife, Jeff’s vision suddenly went blurry, the tears hitting him unexpectedly. “If I live to a hundred, I’ll never forget one moment of that terrible morning when I came home after being on duty eighteen hours. It was the second shift like that I’d pulled in as many days. I don’t know how I drove home, tired as I was.
“The moment I opened our apartment door, I knew something was terribly wrong. It was so quiet. You usually had the radio or TV on. You said it didn’t seem so lonely with noise in the apartment. I called out your name, but you didn’t answer. Then I walked into the kitchen and I nearly lost it.
“You were lying there on the floor, so still, unconscious, a pool of blood next to you. I bent down and felt for your pulse and, thank God, it was thready but beating. Then I saw a heavy clot and I knew.
“Our baby was lost.”
Chapter 11
Swiping at his eyes, Jeff leaned back in the chair, reliving the horror of that dreadful morning when Tish had miscarried. He felt as if he were right there, in that small apartment in L.A., experiencing it all over again….
His heart thudding, Jeff swallowed hard and rushed to the wall phone. It was off the hook, dangling by its cord. Obviously, she’d been about to call for help before she passed out, probably from the sudden loss of blood, the shock. He dialed 911 and they answered almost immediately. “I need an ambulance, quick. My wife, she’s miscarrying. She’s on the floor in a pool of blood and…and please tell the ambulance to hurry.” He recited their address. “Tell them third floor, apartment 311.” He listened to the operator who made him repeat the address. “Yes, yes, of course, I’m going to stay right here with her.” He hung up.
Moving to Tish, he sat down and cradled her upper body in his arms, unwilling to pick her up because she might bleed even more. “Oh, God, Tish, I’m so sorry. So sorry I wasn’t here.” He kissed her hair, felt her damp cheeks, so very pale. “What happened, honey? Was it just spontaneous?”
Had she just fainted? Had she hurt herself in the fall, even though he couldn’t see any injuries? From his training, he knew that sometimes without provocation, these things happened. But it shouldn’t have happened to them.
She’d been so happy lately, the morning sickness pretty much gone now that she was in her fifth month. She’d taken a sewing course afternoons at the local college and he’d bought her a portable sewing machine. She’d started small, making receiving blankets, tiny washcloths, hooded towels. Just yesterday, they’d talked about looking for a bigger place soon, one with a spare bedroom they could turn into a nursery. Tish was excited about her plans to decorate it, make the curtains, paint cute animals on the walls.
Rocking with her in his arms, Jeff felt his heart break. Why did this have to happen now?
He heard the heavy footsteps in the hallway moments before the two Emergency Medical Service men rolling the gurney came in through the door he’d left unlocked. “In here,” he called out, his voice trembling.
“Okay, buddy,” the taller one said, “we’ll take it from here.”
Jeff didn’t want to let Tish go, but he knew he had to. Gently, he eased out from her and let the men check her vitals. “Be careful, okay?”
“Sure thing.” The shorter man was struggling to make room for the gurney in the small kitchen. “Do you mind stepping into the next room, sir? We need to hook her up to an IV.”
Feeling dazed, Jeff backed into the living room, but stayed in the doorway, watching. When they picked Tish up and eased her onto the gurney, she moaned and he winced. “Watch it, eh? Be careful with her.”
They ignored him, hooked her up and strapped her on before maneuvering the gurney through the apartment and out into the hallway.
Grabbing his keys, Jeff followed them. He waited until they had Tish well anchored in the ambulance, then hurried to his car. He followed them to the hospital, quickly parked and dashed into ER where he ran into a fellow resident, Nigel Frost who was from England.
“Nigel, they’re bringing my wife in,” he said, grabbing the man’s sleeve. “Miscarriage. She’s lost a lot of blood.” The EMS men were rolling her in through the double doors.
“I’ll take her, Jeff,” Nigel told him. “Go sit down.”
“I want to go in with you,” Jeff said, trailing after the gurney the men were pushing down the hallway with Nigel walking alongside, listening to the medics rattle off her vitals. As they entered trauma room 4, Nigel stopped by the door, blocking Jeff.
“Look, chum,” he said in his clipped British accent, “you’re to wait over there. I don’t want you in with me, okay? I mean it.” Two trauma nurses pushed inside.
“I’ll be quiet, really. You won’t know I’m there, but I’ve got to—”
Nigel’s bony hand pressed on Jeff’s shoulder. “For the last time, no. I’ll come get you as soon as I can. Now go sit down.” He turned, went inside, closed the door and pulled the curtain.
Damn! Jeff was annoyed, yet he knew Nigel was following procedure. Relatives in any trauma room could mess things up greatly. As a doctor himself, he could disagree with Nigel’s call and there’d be trouble. Grumbling, Jeff paced the hallway, scarcely aware that his scrubs were splattered with his wife’s blood.
Several fellow doctors came by and two nurses he knew by name, all wanting to know what happened, offering encouragement. Emotions close to the surface, Jeff knew that hospital personnel looked out for one another, and their concern touched him.
In what seemed like hours later but had actually been less than thirty minutes, Nigel stepped through the door. Jeff pounced on him.
“How is she?”
“She’s fine, Jeff. She didn’t lose all that much blood. As I’m sure you know, the baby’s gone.”
“Yes…I know. Can I go in now?”
“Yeah, they’re just finishing cleaning her up. We called her OB doctor. I gave her a shot so she’s pretty groggy. She’s asking for you.”
“Thanks, buddy.”
“No problem. I’m sure she doesn’t want to hear it now, but she’s young. Another time, eh?”
“Yeah, right.” Jeff pulled himself together, hoping Tish would be too fuzzy to see how disappointed he was. Another time, Nigel had said. No, that wasn’t what he wanted to hear nor would he say that to Tish. They’d just lost a baby.
Squaring his shoulders, he went into the trauma room just as a nurse he recognized as Debbie finished tucking in the clean sheet.
“Hi, Jeff. She’s asking for you.” She turned to Tish, her blond ponytail swishing. “Here he is, Mrs. Kirby.” She walked toward the door, stopping to touch Jeff’s arm. “I’m so sorry.”
He whispered his thanks, but his eyes were on Tish. She looked so very pale, like the blood had seeped out of her face. Her skin was always a golden tan. It was a shock, but he tried not to react as he bent over her. “Hi, honey.”
She blinked, tears leaking and tracking into her ears. “The baby’s gone, Jeff. I didn’t do anything, yet it’s gone.”
He took her cold hands between his and tried to rub some warmth into them. “I know, honey. I know.” He reached up to brush away her tears. “The main thing is, you’re okay. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there.”
“I got up from the chair where I was sewing this little kimono and suddenly, I felt this strong cramp and warm liquid flowed down my legs. I looked down and it was blood. I went into the kitchen to call you, but then this sharp pain caught me and I doubled over. I—I think I passed out.”
“Shh, honey, you don’t have to go over it. It’s going to be all right. You just rest now.”
Her hand curled around his and held on tightly. “It wasn’t my fault, was it, Jeff? I didn’t do anything to—”
“No, sweetheart, you didn’t do a thing. It was spontaneous. These things happen sometimes without warning and nothing you do or don’t do can prevent them.” He kissed her forehead, her cheeks.
“I let you down, Jeff. I know how much you wanted this baby.”
“No, this was not your fault. Please, honey, you need to rest.” Hadn’t Nigel said he’d given her a shot? Why wasn’t she drifting off? Maybe because she was too agitated. “They’re going to take you up to a room so you can rest and recover.”
“No, I want to go home, please, Jeff.”
“You’ve got to stay in at least twenty-four hours, babe, to make sure there’s no more bleeding.” How could he take her home when he was due back here in another six hours? Who’d watch her if she needed something? “After you’re well again, I’ll take you home. I promise.”
Resigned finally, her eyes fluttered closed just as Debbie came back in.
“If she’s ready, I’ll take her to her room. Dr. Delaney will see her there shortly.”
“Fine. I’ll go with you.” Unhappily, as empty inside as he knew Tish must feel, he helped guide the gurney out of ER.
For days afterward, Jeff had relived that dreadful scene awake or asleep. He’d see Tish on the kitchen floor lying in a pool of blood, looking so pale, so helpless. Then he’d see her lying in the hospital bed on the stiff white sheets, no longer crying, her eyes open and haunted.
If he’d thought his nightmares were bad, the reality of their life afterward scared him even more. In preparation for her homecoming, he’d given up precious sleep and washed up all the blood and cleaned each room, vacuuming, dusting, polishing, scrubbing, until the place fairly sparkled. It was January and the weather was cool and fresh, so he opened the windows and aired out the place. He put fresh linens on the bed, did the wash and grocery shopped for her favorite foods. And he carefully packed away all the baby things Tish had made or bought so there’d be no tangible reminders.
He insisted on carrying her up the three flights of stairs, telling her she weighed scarcely more than a child, which was the truth. In the apartment, he wanted to put her in bed, but she chose the easy chair in the living room where she’d been doing her sewing. Her eyes were suspiciously bright when he gently set her down, but she didn’t cry. He told her there was plenty to eat, but she said she wasn’t hungry. He stayed with her awhile, but the one-way conversation was getting to both of them and he was getting nervous about his hospital obligations.
“I know you need to get back to work, Jeff,” she said in a flat voice. “Don’t worry, please. I’ll be fine.”
He hated leaving her, yet he felt so helpless because he didn’t know what to do for her, how to bring back the contented, smiling woman she’d been before.
She must have seen the indecision on his face for she took his hand. “Really, I’ll be okay. I know you have to leave.”
Hating the resignation in her voice and the requirements of his job just then, he bent to kiss her cheek, found her skin cool and dry. “I’ll be wearing my beeper. If you need me for anything, anything, call me. And I’ll check in with you.”
She managed a small smile that didn’t reach her eyes. As he headed for the door, he saw her lean back and close her eyes.
The next couple of weeks put an enormous strain on their fragile relationship. Although Jeff knew Tish loved him and he certainly loved her, they’d gotten married mainly because of the baby, at least on her part. And now there was no baby. It seemed to Jeff at times when he came home and found her sitting in the chair much as he’d left her that morning that the reason for their being together had vanished with the baby that never had a chance.
He tried. God knows he tried. He rushed home, weary and worried, but he’d go into the kitchen and put together one of Tish’s favorite meals only to have her nibble around the edges before apologizing, saying she simply wasn’t hungry.
He slept fitfully, despite his fatigue. And every time he awoke, she was lying there, pretending to be asleep but he knew she wasn’t. He was so worried that finally he talked with Robert Delaney, the OB doctor she’d been seeing before the miscarriage, and told him everything.
A tall man with red hair and the freckled skin that went with it, Robert heard him out before speaking. “It’s called postpartum blues, Jeff. I’m sure you studied it.”
“Well, yes, but I honestly didn’t think it would happen with a miscarriage. And it’s lasting so long. Over a month now and counting. She has no interest in anything. Christmas came and went and she scarcely noticed.” Frustrated, he ran his hand through his shaggy hair, realizing he needed a haircut and hadn’t had the time to get one.
“Miscarriage or delivery, her hormones react. Then there’s the grief of losing a child. W
ith a normal birth, at least you have a baby to snap you out of your depression. But with a miscarriage, there’s nothing. It takes a while to bounce back. Do you talk to her about the loss?”
“I’ve tried, but she’s not very responsive. Like she wants to put the whole experience out of mind. But she just sits and stares. She doesn’t read or sew or watch TV. Rob, I’m worried.”
“I can prescribe something that might help her. If she’ll take it. You need to treat her normal, like you did before. Don’t treat her with kid gloves.” He paused.
Jeff cleared his throat. “Does that mean it’s okay for us to…make love?”
“Yes. Physically, she’s healed.”
“But I’m afraid she’s not ready for it emotionally.”
“Every case is different, but making love to her, making her feel you still love her and want her, might do the trick. See, many women with spontaneous miscarriages feel a certain amount of guilt, as if they did something to abort the child. No amount of reassurance seems to take away that feeling. Except maybe letting her know that you still care.”
“Okay. Maybe you’re right.”
Dr. Delaney wrote out a prescription and handed it to Jeff. “These are a mild antidepressants. Might help.”
“Thanks, Robert.” Jeff shook hands and left.
He planned the event like a seduction. He arranged to have a couple of extra hours off so he wouldn’t be exhausted. He bought a special bottle of wine and half a dozen yellow roses, which was all he could afford. And a quart of peach ice cream, Tish’s favorite.
Entering their apartment, he found her sitting in the same chair as usual staring out the window. Jeff drew in a deep breath. Now or never, he told himself. “Hi, honey,” he said, walking over to kiss her. “For you.” He handed her the flowers.
Tish looked up, surprised. She took the roses, smelled them. “They’re lovely. Thank you.” But she didn’t smile.
“And this is for us.” Jeff held up the bottle of wine to show her before going into the kitchen for two glasses. When he’d poured the wine, he came back to her and saw she was holding the roses to her and gazing out the window, a sad expression on her face. This wasn’t going to be easy, he realized.