Gary rolled his eyes. “You have at least thirty good years left.”
Elauna frowned. “That is beside the point. God wants you to have children.”
If God really wanted them to have children, why couldn’t they get pregnant? Was it punishment for their refusal to have them earlier?
“It breaks my heart you aren’t giving me grandkids,” Elauna continued.
“Mother,” Gary said.
It broke Christina’s heart, too. Why couldn’t Gary see that?
“Don’t you want to see your mother happy?” Elauna asked. “All I want is a few grandchildren to spoil. I think two or three would be a nice number. What do you think, Alexander?”
Alexander disappeared behind his newspaper again. “I think you should leave the kids alone.”
Elauna shook her head. “It’s a mother’s duty to warn her children when they stray from what’s truly important.” She leaned forward and grasped both their hands. “I know your careers are important to you. But is that a good enough reason to put off having children?”
The humor of the situation was gone, and tears stung Christina’s eyes. She hoped Elauna wouldn’t notice her hands trembling.
“Mom, that’s enough.” Gary put an arm around Christina’s shoulder, and she leaned into him, hoping the Vincents wouldn’t interpret it as a sign of weakness. “Christina and I have always done what we think is best. It would have been difficult to have children while still in school.”
“But you’re not in school anymore,” Elauna said. “So what’s the problem? Money? It’s the only reason I can think why Christina is still working. Vincent women don’t work.” Elauna nudged Alexander’s foot with her toe. “Alexander, aren’t you paying this boy enough?”
“He’s paying me plenty,” Gary said. “Christina works because she enjoys it.”
“Then is it fertility problems?” Elauna said the words as though they were dirty. “One of the ladies at the country club has a daughter-in-law who is barren.”
It was too much. Christina was going to crack, and in front of the Vincents, no less. The panic on Gary’s face would have been funny if she wasn’t struggling not to cry.
“Now you’re being ridiculous,” he said. “We don’t want to talk about this anymore.” Please, keep quiet, his eyes begged Christina.
“Elauna, stop harassing the children.” Alexander put down his paper and stood. “They’ve done what they think is best, and we should respect that. I’m sure they don’t plan on living childless forever.”
“Of course not,” Gary said. “Is dinner ready? We can’t stay too long tonight. I still have some things I need to get done before work tomorrow.”
“I’m trying to help you,” Elauna said.
A tear splashed onto Christina’s wrist. She turned her hand over so it would disappear into the fabric of her skirt before anyone saw. She couldn’t believe she’d let her composure crack.
“I’m just saying—” Elauna continued.
“If it’s okay with you, Elauna, I’ll pull the food out of the oven and put it on the table.” Christina rose quickly and went into the kitchen.
“Mother, please, not today,” Christina heard Gary say as she walked away.
As soon as she was alone, the tears escaped. Christina blinked, trying to clear her vision. She was pulling the roasted duck out of the oven when Gary appeared.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I tried to stop her, but once she gets going . . .” He grabbed some hot pads and pulled out the garlic potatoes.
“Let’s get through dinner and go.”
Within minutes they all sat around the dining room table, loading up their plates with food.
“I didn’t intend to make you uncomfortable, Christina,” Elauna said.
Christina’s back stiffened. “It’s fine,” she said, forcing her voice to sound cheerful. “I really do love the polar bear. It’ll go great with the eighty-eight other stuffed animals.”
“Gary is such a joy to me. My life would be meaningless and empty without him. When you’re young, children seem like such an inconvenience, but when you’re old like me, you realize what a blessing they are.”
“We want to establish our careers,” Gary said. “It would have been unfair of me to ask Christina to put her education on hold so we could have children.”
“I’m sure teaching those underprivileged children is very rewarding, dear,” Elauna said.
Christina swallowed. “Most of them are from middle-class families.” It drove her crazy that as soon as people found out she taught Spanish immersion, they assumed she taught homeless illegal immigrants.
“I’m sure they are.”
“For the love of heaven, woman, leave the kids alone.” Alexander cut off a piece of duck and shoved it into his mouth. “They don’t want to talk about this anymore.”
The only good thing to say about dinner was it ended quickly. After eating dessert—too crispy a crust for Elauna’s taste, and the apples were definitely soggy, though she was sure Christina had tried—Gary made their excuses, and they left. It was all Christina could do to keep her smile in place until she was safely in the car, where their tinted windows and the darkness of night hid her expression.
“I’m so sorry,” Gary said as they pulled onto the main road. “I had no idea they were going to attack us like that. Mother was way out of line.”
Christina pursed her lips. “I want to go to the doctor.”
“Why can’t we wait a few more months? That’s no time at all in the big scheme of things.”
“Because, Gary. We’ve been married almost five years, and everyone is looking at us like, ‘Why don’t they have children?’ Everyone already thinks we’re destitute or infertile or worse. I want to know.”
Gary’s jaw clenched. “No one thinks we’re infertile. And okay, the financial comment was annoying. I don’t want people thinking that either. Maybe you should quit and stay home. We don’t need your income.”
“And what am I supposed to do at home all day, with no kids to take care of?”
“You could do charity work, like Mother. Get involved in some of the organizations she supports.”
Christina laughed. “I’d rather die.”
“Something different, then. An organization she isn’t involved with.”
“I’m not quitting my job.”
“It was just a suggestion.”
“Five years, Gar.” Christina turned away from him, looking out the window at the glittering lights of Draper. “We’re coming up on five years. It might as well be five hundred. All our neighbors, the young couples at church—they all have kids within a couple of years of getting married.”
“I didn’t realize we had to conform to some stereotype.”
“Remember my old college roommate, Deena?”
Gary glanced over at her, eyebrow raised. “Yes.”
“They got married a few months after us.”
“I’m not sure where you’re going with this.”
“She announced on Facebook she’s expecting baby number three. They have three kids, and we can’t even have one.”
“Stop saying that.” Gary pounded the palm of his hand on the steering wheel. “Why are you so convinced something’s wrong?”
“Because it’s been thirteen months. Doesn’t that bother you? Do you even care?”
Gary scrubbed a hand over his face and signaled into the far left lane. “I do care. I’m just scared.”
“I’m scared, too. But we can be brave together and see a doctor.”
“I’m not ready. In a few months we can discuss it again, but for now . . .”
She turned away.
“Christina, don’t be like that.”
She clamped her lips shut, not saying a word.
Kyra was dreaming of playing house with Sophie when a sharp pain tore through her middle. Her eyes jerked open as another cramp hit. She gasped, rolling onto her side and pulling her legs up to her chest. A fiery hot se
nsation consumed her.
No, no, no.
This wasn’t happening.
The pain subsided, and she lay curled in a ball, her whole body trembling. The thudding of her heart echoed in her ears. A clock in the bathroom ticked. David let out a snore.
Another gasp forced itself from her throat. The cramp started in her midsection and worked toward her back. Kyra squeezed her eyes shut and tried to breathe.
When the cramp subsided, she stumbled out of bed, shivering from the thin sheen of sweat covering her body. She stubbed her toe on the door-frame. Banged her shin against the bathtub. Barely noticed the pain. She was too busy counting her heartbeats, trying to ignore her worst fears.
The wetness she felt was unmistakable. A sob tore from her throat.
Please, please, please . . .
Kyra flipped on the bathroom light, squinting at the sudden brightness. She blinked, willing her eyes to quickly adjust. Red stained the white of her underwear.
Blood.
She sat on the toilet, heart hammering until she wondered if it would explode. Kyra fumbled to open a pad, her hands shaking almost uncontrollably. She barely remembered to flush the toilet. At the sink, Kyra focused on the water washing away the damp sweat coating her palms, on the warmth slowly infusing her fingers.
Another cramp hit, and she gasped, a single tear trickling down her cheek. Kyra turned off the water, stumbled to the bed, and roughly shook David. He snored loudly in response.
Another tear. “David.” Kyra shook him harder. “David, please. Wake up. David!”
His eyes slowly opened, still clouded with sleep. “Kyra?” He sat up in bed, reaching for his glasses. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m bleeding.”
“Oh my gosh.” He flicked on the bedside lamp. “How bad? Are you cramping?”
“Yes. Not a lot of blood, but . . .” A sob caught in her throat. “We can’t lose this baby.”
“Shhh.” He brushed her hair away from her face. “Don’t panic. Didn’t you bleed with Sophie?”
“Y-yes. But I don’t remember ever having cramps.”
“You’re shivering.” He pulled her into bed, tucking the covers tightly around her. “It’s almost six o’clock. We’ll call the clinic when they open and see what they want us to do, okay?”
Two hours later they dropped Sophie off at Cassandra’s and headed to the clinic. After having her blood drawn, Kyra undressed and sat on the exam table, a thick pad beneath her.
“It’s going to be okay,” David told her, his face white. “Everything will be okay.”
When Dr. Mendoza opened the door, her eyes were soft and solemn. She squirted hand sanitizer into her palm and sat on a swivel stool. “I understand you’re having some problems.”
Kyra nodded. “I woke up at about five-thirty this morning with cramps. I was bleeding.”
“Lie back,” Dr. Mendoza said. “I’m going to do a quick exam, and then we’ll do an ultrasound.”
Kyra obeyed, scooting to the edge of the table and putting her feet in the stirrups. She tried to relax, but her shivers made it nearly impossible. “I bled with Sophie,” Kyra said. She had to fill the silence. “Not this bad, though. Just spotting for about a week. Bleeding isn’t always a bad sign, right?”
“Right. But the cramping is concerning.” Dr. Mendoza withdrew the speculum. “I’m going to do the ultrasound now.”
“Did you find anything wrong in the exam?” David asked.
“Nothing obvious.”
Dr. Mendoza inserted the ultrasound wand, and Kyra’s eyes glued to the screen. “Where’s the baby?” she asked. Had it really been less than two weeks since they’d sat in this same room, seeing their baby for the first time?
Dr. Mendoza pointed. “Right there.”
“Is it okay?” Kyra curled her fingers into her palms, nails biting her tender flesh.
Dr. Mendoza motioned to something that looked indistinguishable from all the other wavy lines. “I can see the blood flow here, but I can’t tell where it’s coming from. Let me take some measurements.”
The next fifteen minutes were agony. As Dr. Mendoza took measurement after measurement, Kyra watched her face grow more and more grim.
“Please tell me what’s happening,” Kyra whispered.
Dr. Mendoza sighed. “I’m so sorry. I think you’re miscarrying.”
Rushing waves filled Kyra’s ears, and black spots darted across her vision.
“The fetus hasn’t grown since our appointment ten days ago, and there’s still no movement or heartbeat. By seven and a half weeks, we can usually hear one.” Dr. Mendoza withdrew the probe, and Kyra sat up, her eyes fixed on the screen. It was blank now, the baby gone. Just like Kyra’s hopes and dreams. “Have you noticed the cramping or bleeding getting worse?”
Kyra wrapped her arms tightly around her waist. “Maybe. It’s hard to tell.”
“At the last appointment you hadn’t experienced any pregnancy symptoms. Have you had any since then? Nausea, sensitivity to smell, headaches?”
Kyra shook her head. “Most symptoms didn’t hit with Sophie until about eight weeks, so I haven’t questioned it.”
A knock sounded at the door, stealing Kyra’s focus.
“Come in,” Dr. Mendoza said.
A nurse entered and extended a folder. “The lab finished Mrs. Peterson’s blood work.”
The nurse left, and Dr. Mendoza flipped open the file, her eyes scanning the chart inside.
“What does it say?” Kyra asked.
“Your HCG levels are dropping. I’m sorry. The baby’s gone.”
Gone. Kyra struggled to process the reality. How could it be ‘gone’? The baby was right there. Kyra had seen it.
“What happened?” David croaked, eyes red and watery behind the lenses of his glasses.
“I’m not sure,” Dr. Mendoza said. “It’s almost impossible to tell with miscarriages this early. At the last appointment, you measured on the small end of normal for six weeks. But it’s hard to get accurate measurements that early, and I wasn’t concerned. The fetus probably stopped growing shortly after implantation.” She smiled sadly at Kyra. “Unfortunately, miscarriage happens in about ten percent of all pregnancies. It was probably a spontaneous abortion, and not an indication that something is wrong with your body.”
As though that was supposed to comfort Kyra. “The baby’s really dead?”
“I’m sorry,” Dr. Mendoza repeated. “We won’t know for certain until you pass it, but I think so.”
Kyra hunched over, her hands clutching her stomach as a sob tore through her.
Dr. Mendoza spoke quietly with David, then left the room. Kyra numbly got dressed, her movements clumsy. David put an arm around her, and she let him lead her to the car.
Gone.
David called Cassandra and quietly explained the situation, asking if Sophie could stay at her house until bedtime.
Gone.
Soon they were home. David led Kyra up the steps and into the house.
Gone.
David lay next to her on the bed while they cried. The cramping grew steadily worse, as though the mere mention of a miscarriage had given the baby permission to leave. Kyra’s shivers grew more pronounced as her temperature rose to a fever. When she went to the restroom, the bleeding was much heavier.
The doctor had been right. They were losing this baby.
Kyra lay in her bed, curled into a ball of pain nearly as intense as labor. It took all night to pass the baby. After it was over, she cried and cried and cried while David held her.
Empty.
Alone.
Devastated.
Cheated.
Why did You let me down, Lord? Kyra prayed angrily. I’m a good person. I’m a good mother. Why did You take my baby? Why did You have to be so cruel? Being unable to have children was bad enough. But having a child, and then losing it . . .
There were not words to describe that type of agony.
Eventually Kyra fell
asleep. When she woke next, it was to David stroking her hair. Sunlight streamed in through the closed window blinds.
“Sophie’s awake and wants to see you,” David said. “Is that okay?”
Kyra closed her eyes and nodded. She wanted Sophie’s arms around her neck and warm body cuddled close more than almost anything.
It could’ve been five minutes or five hours before Sophie entered the room. Her soft little body climbed onto the bed next to Kyra. “Mommy?” Her voice was tiny and scared.
Kyra wiped away her tears and rolled over. She smiled and tried to make her voice cheerful. “Hey, baby girl.”
Sophie frowned, looking uncertain. “Daddy said our baby isn’t coming home. Is that why you’re crying?”
Kyra’s tears spilled over, and she nodded. “Yes, sweetie.”
“But why not?”
“Remember how I told you the baby would have to grow in my stomach for a really long time?”
Sophie nodded.
“The baby got sick and couldn’t grow any more. It went to live in heaven with God instead.”
Sophie leaned forward and wrapped her small arms around Kyra’s neck. Kyra closed her eyes and breathed deeply, clutching her daughter close. Whatever else happened in life, she was lucky to be Sophie’s mother.
“Don’t cry,” Sophie said, patting Kyra’s cheek. Kyra captured Sophie’s hand and kissed it. “My brother is coming soon. God told me.”
Kyra’s brows furrowed. “How did He tell you?”
“He just did. My brother has yellow hair and is fat and cute.”
“There’s not a baby in my tummy anymore, Soph. The baby’s in heaven now.”
“I know. But he’s coming soon. I can’t wait to play with him.”
Kyra buried her face in Sophie’s neck. “I can’t wait to play with him either.”
“Don’t be sad, Mommy.”
“Sometimes mommies have to be sad for a little while.” Kyra kissed Sophie’s cheek and stroked loose strands of hair behind her ear. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t love you. It just means I’m sad our baby can’t come live with us right now.”
Sophie cuddled in closer to Kyra. “I’m sad, too. I love you, Mommy.”
Chasing Someday Page 5
