Epiphany

by Ashley Suzanne

  going through, or might go through, it’s her.

  When I called and told her about my pregnancy, her and Chip came home a day early and her first stop was my apartment. We spent a few hours not talking, just staring at each other. I know she’s trying to contain her happiness and at the same time not seem gloom, but just her being here, rubbing my head, makes all the difference.

  “Just because you don’t want to start picking out baby names doesn’t mean you can’t

  be a little delighted about being pregnant. I know, better than anyone, what it feels

  like to not know if you’re actually going to have this baby, but it’s still a baby

  … your baby. You’ll regret it if you don’t start feeling and enjoying this moment. If

  this baby survives and you have him or her, you’re going to kick yourself in the ass

  if you didn’t at least crack a smile.”

  “I know, Mom. I’m trying. I really am. I think I’ll feel better after my appointment

  and we have something more concrete. The doctors in the ER aren’t really in the business

  of giving final diagnosis. It’s always, ‘consult your primary care physician’.”

  “Just take it easy. You have your appointment tomorrow. Let’s not worry until then. Today, let’s eat whatever you want. There’s only one time in a woman’s life that she can gorge on anything without judgment. Take advantage of it.”

  Leave it to my mother to fuck shit up in my kitchen. And not in a bad way, a special

  kind of way that only mothers can do. She’s successfully managed to make fried ham

  and cheese sandwiches, cream of broccoli soup and a batch of double fudge brownies

  in a matter of an hour.

  After stuffing as much as I possibly could in my face, another bite will more than likely make me vomit. Resting back in the chair, I place my hand over my slightly bloated belly and rub gently, praying that my baby will make it and I’ll get a chance to meet this precious little soul.

  The good mother than she is, cleaned and put away all the dishes before she left. Skylar said he had something really quick to take care of for the club. So while waiting for him to get home and figure out our dinner plan, I decide to take a quick nap.

  The sun’s just starting to set when Skylar’s voice interrupts my sleep fest.

  “Mi, where are you?” he calls from the living room.

  “I’m coming. Hold on.”

  “Nope. Bed rest. Give me two seconds. Keep your ass in bed.”

  Walking through the threshold of our bedroom, he has his hands behind his back and a cheesy grin on his face. This isn’t going to be good whatever it is.

  “So, I bought you something today,” he says, rocking back and forth on his heels.

  “Yeah. What is it?” I ask, skeptically.

  “Well, it’s not really for you.”

  “Skylar …” I growl, ready to protest.

  “Don’t get all pissy yet. It’s cute and I think you’re gonna love it. No stress,

  remember?” My mind’s reeling. I can’t handle him buying any baby clothes or anything.

  “Let me see it.” I hold out my hand, waiting for him to deposit whatever he’s purchased.

  “It’s for us.”

  Pulling his hands from behind his back, he hands me a small box. Staring up at him, I’m not sure what to think. Lifting the lid, a silver picture frame glistens in the late afternoon sun. In the most beautiful font the bottom of the frame reads ‘My First Picture’ with a baby rattle before and after the words.

  Where a picture would go, Skylar’s taken the liberty of putting my discharge papers from the hospital behind the glass.

  “They didn’t take any ultrasound pictures last night, so this is the best I could

  do. When we get his … or her … sonogram, we can put it in here. So, no matter what happens, we can see our baby whenever we want.”

  Overwhelming emotion takes over my body. I’m smiling at the thoughtfulness of Skylar, dying inside because I don’t know if I’ll be able to give him this baby, or any baby, and laughing at how silly my discharge papers look in this frame. These pregnancy hormones are going to be the death of me.

  Pulling him down in bed with me, I wrap my arms around his neck, nuzzling and placing light kisses just below his ear lobe.

  “This is the most perfect present you could have ever bought. It’s beautiful and sentimental. You, Skylar, make me the happiest woman in the world. How did I get so lucky?”

  “Well, you played your cards right, I guess,” he jokes, nipping at my shoulder.

  Now, this is the part of the pregnancy hormones that should make every girl happy.

  Willing and ready to go at the drop of a time. Unfortunately for me, sex is out of the question. It might be for my whole pregnancy,

  or at least until I get my clear.

  Huffing, I pull back from Skylar and pat the mattress next to me, where he follows directions and lies down beside me. We spend the rest of the day and night in bed, with Skylar catering to my every want and need, until I pass out with a carton of Chinese food on my nightstand. Sky tried to take it away and put it in the fridge, but I stopped him. I mean, who’s to say that in the middle of the night I won’t wake up with a hankering for some chicken fried rice? Stranger things have happened.

  So, I drift off to sleep, mentally preparing myself for the doctor’s visit in the

  morning. Everything happens for a reason. If there’s one thing I’ll take from this

  life lesson, it’s that Skylar is more now than ever the perfect man for me. Kind, attentive and loving. What more could a girl ask for?

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Skylar

  It’s not really easy to be a man in this kind of situation. Where I’m freaking out and wondering what the doctor is going to say about the baby, I can’t show any of that. I need to be strong and in control of my emotions for Mira. She needs me to be her rock. I’ll be damned if I let her down.

  Our big New Year’s Eve plans have been busted wide open. A few days ago, I would

  have said we’d be at home, toasting with some champagne. Not the case any longer,

  I slip into my shoes and check my watch. It’ll have to be sparkling grape juice and watching the ball drop on TV … and I’m not upset about it for one second.

  “We need to leave in five if we’re gonna be on time,” I yell through the bathroom

  door.

  “I’m coming.” Flinging open the door, Mira’s standing in front of me wearing a tank top and underwear. I’m also not sure why she’s got mascara on only one eye.

  “Sweets, you’ve been in there for twenty five minutes. What’ve you been doing? We gotta go.” I pull her to the edge of the bed and into my lap.

  “I almost don’t wanna know. If she says that I won’t carry the baby, I don’t wanna know. I can’t take it. I’m so fucking scared,” Mira cries into my neck, clawing at my back.

  “Mira. I’m scared, too,” I whisper, showing a little of my fear. “We’re going to get through

  this. Everything happens for a reason, right? If we have this baby, another baby,

  or no baby at all … it changes nothing. Us against the world. Right?”

  “Right,” she mutters, wiping the tears from her cheeks. “Give me two minutes and

  I’ll be ready.”

  Running back into the bathroom, she doesn’t bother shutting the door. A quick rinse

  of her face, removing whatever makeup she had on and throwing her hair in a ponytail,

  she comes back in the bedroom. Mira shoves herself into a pair of yoga pants and

  a baggy tee shirt. As much as I love when she goes all out, taking hours to get ready,

  this is when she’s most beautiful—when I can see the real her.

  “Okay, let’s go.” Mira stands at the front door, tapping her foot like she’s been

  waiting on me for the past twenty minutes and I’m th
e reason we’re late. Chuckling,

  I follow her out the door and into the elevator.

  The ride to the doctor the hospital referred us to is quick, not more than ten minutes—the joys of living downtown. Thankfully, the clinic

  is on the first floor and I can drop Mira off right at the entrance.

  After I park the car, I walk into the office to find Mira looking over a stack of

  paperwork and fidgeting with a pen, clicking it rapidly against the metal clipboard.

  Pondering an answer, she jots something down and moves down the list.

  I take the seat next to her and pick up one of the pregnancy magazines lying on the

  table. Not exactly what I would like to peruse, but it’ll have to do. It would be

  nice if these doctors would have reading material for the dads, too. I’m sure I’m

  not the only guy that doesn’t want to read about pregnancy hormones, getting your

  pre-baby body back or ‘How Old is too Old to Breast Feed’. Get a magazine about cars, bikes or some other manly shit?

  Mira barely has time to finish filling out the papers before the nurse is calling

  her back to an exam room. Taking a deep breath, I follow close behind her, ready

  to grab on and push her through if she tries to bolt.

  “If you can change into this gown, the doctor will be in shortly,” the young nurse tells Mira before closing the door behind her.

  “Do you want some privacy?” I’m feeling a little awkward here. I’ve seen Mira naked

  hundreds of times, but this seems so ... clinical.

  “Don’t you dare leave me. Sit in that chair,” Mira whisper yells, pointing at the plastic chair just behind

  the exam table, which is really just half a table with some kind of torture device

  attached to the end.

  A few minutes after Mira’s situated in her paper gown, someone knocks on the door

  softly and then walks through without waiting for a response. Oh. Okay. That’s

  how they do things here. What if she was still naked? “Oh, I’m sorry, I thought your vagina was covered?” Get outta here.

  “Hello, Mira. I’m Doctor Banas.” The woman says, putting her hand out to Mira, which she takes with a little hesitation. “I assume you’re the husband?”

  “Fiancé,” I correct. “Skylar. It’s nice to meet you.”

  “Well, let’s get down to business. I usually schedule an appointment before your first exam to get some questions out of the way. Since we’re not in a typical situation here, I’m going to go over the questionnaire with you. Are you okay with Skylar being in the room for this?”

  “Of course. There’s nothing about me he doesn’t already know.” That’s my girl.

  “Alright. First set is going to be about your sexual history,” the doctor says, looking at

  me from the corner of her eye. I’m sure the doc is waiting for me so start squirming

  in my seat, but she doesn’t know the kind of relationship Mira and I have. There’s

  nothing that I don’t know.

  “Age of your first period?” So, there’s a slight shift in my seat. Not enough to consider squirming, I don’t

  think.

  “Thirteen.” Well, they say you learn something new every day. Don’t know when I’ll

  actually be able to use this handy piece of information, but I’m sure it’s something

  that not many people know.

  “Are your periods regular? Come at the same time of the month?”

  “Typically, yes. Except …” Mira stares down at her lap. Did she realize she was

  late? Should I pay more attention to this stuff?

  “The age you became sexually active?”

  “Eighteen.” My stomach turns, knowing exactly who the man was that took her virginity.

  I can’t really say anything about it. I should have stepped up back then, and I could

  have been her first; her only.

  “How many sexual partners have you had since then?”

  “Only two.” How I wish she would be able to say just one. You can’t consider sweating squirming, right?

  “Have you ever been exposed to any sexually transmitted diseases?”

  “No.” Damn right, no. Poor Mira, sitting on that table having to answer questions that she shouldn’t ever

  have to—like her entire life and sexual history is on display. Who knew having a

  baby would be so … invasive?

  “Do you have a family history of miscarriages or stillbirths?”

  “My mother had a difficult time conceiving me. I’m not sure about stillbirths, that’s not something we ever talked about, but miscarriages, yes. I think my mom told me

  that she had three before giving birth to me.” The sadness in Mira’s voice tears

  at my heart. I’m not sure if there is some kind of genetic thing that makes it harder

  for some women to get pregnant, but I know it’s weighing on Mira’s mind. Also, if

  the doctor has it on her checklist, it has to be important somewhere down the line.

  “Including this pregnancy, how many times have you been pregnant?”

  “This is my first pregnancy.” Oh fuck. No. No, it’s not. Shit. Again, as much as I wish that I would have been the only one to get her pregnant, Danny hit that mark first as well. Wait? Did Danny never tell her about the miscarriage? If this could have an impact on her treatment and the care of the baby, I have to say something, right? I’m going to kill Danny for putting this shit on me. He’s dead.

  “Two,” I whisper. Mira’s head, as well as the doctor’s, whips around to face me.

  Crossing then uncrossing my legs, I think it’s fair to say I’m officially squirming,

  wishing I wouldn’t have been in here for that doozy.

  “What did you say?” Mira asks, confusion swirling in her eyes. He never told her.

  She lost a baby and he didn’t think it was important enough to tell her.

  “This is your second pregnancy,” I say louder this time. “You were pregnant before

  the accident and miscarried the baby. I don’t know why Danny never told you.” So much rage is coursing through

  my veins. The fact that nobody informed Mira and add on top of that the fact I’m not the first man to impregnate her, I’m a ticking time

  bomb trying to keep myself in check. This isn’t my time to be riled, it’s Mira’s.

  She has every damn right to be.

  “Why didn’t anyone think to tell me? Not Danny … you … my doctors? How can everyone

  know something so personal about me and I don’t have the slightest clue?” Mira turns

  around. I wish I could see her facial expressions, try to read what she’s thinking.

  “Skylar, can you please explain this miscarriage to me? If you know what happened? I’m probably going to need to pull the medical records anyway, but some information right now is better than none if I’m going to treat Mira and your unborn baby.” The doctor puts her hand on Mira’s bouncing knee, trying to offer her the comfort that I’m not able to.

  Sucking in a deep breath, I watch Mira slump forward, knowing I’m going to talk about

  the accident and give her a piece of herself. Something she never knew she was missing.

  Fucking Danny and his omitting important details ass.

  “Last year, Mira was involved in a motorcycle accident. She was injured pretty badly and spent a month and a half in the hospital in a coma. When she was brought in, the doctors realized that she was pregnant, about four or five weeks along. While Mira was still asleep, they tried to save the baby, but her injuries were too much. She miscarried the next day.”

  Mira’s shoulders rack violently, but no sounds come from her. Ignoring the doctor’s unspoken request to stay in my seat, I climb on the table and wrap my arms around her. The silent crying doesn’t stop for a few minutes. Once she composes herself, sh
e leans back, looking in my eyes.

  “I didn’t know you were never told. I just thought you didn’t want to talk about it. I understood and wanted to give you your privacy. This was something between you and Danny. I never wanted to get in the middle of it. Please understand that, Mi. I never knew you didn’t know. I swear.”

  “I believe you. It just hurts. I know a lot was going on at that time, but I had a baby inside of me. Danny and I conceived a baby. I don’t know if he grieved the loss of our child. I don’t know anything. He should have told me and been the one to hold me while I cried. That was his job then. I’m so sorry you were put in this situation, Sky.”

  “No apologies. How about we finish up here and then when we leave, we’ll pay Danny a visit? Hash this out with him so the doctor can get back to her exam.”

  “That sounds like an excellent plan,” Mira says, voice spiked with irritation.

  I climb off the table and take the three steps back to my seat. The doctor and Mira finish their question and answer segment, only to move onto the most uncomfortable stuff. The doc’s words, not mine, although, I can’t see anything being more uncomfortable than the invasion of privacy.

  “Lie back and scoot your bum all the way to the edge of the table for me and put your feet in the stirrups,” the doctor requests and Mira obliges.

  When Dr. Banas pulls a tray toward the table with some very strange looking devices

  on top of a sterile cloth, my head swarms with the images of exactly what she could

  do with that stuff. She plans on putting that inside Mira?

  “Wait. Is it safe for the baby for you to be putting that kind of stuff all up in there? I mean, if we’re trying to prevent a miscarriage and all, it would make sense not to shove metal objects into her vagina, right?” In my mind it’s a legitimate question, but Mira and Dr. Banas don’t seem to think so.

  The doctor laughs softly and Mira’s shaking her head back and forth. “Everything will be fine. This just lets me check on Mira’s cervix and take cultures. I promise this is perfectly safe for the baby.”

  Relaxing back into my seat, I take a deep breath. When the doctor begins the examination, Mira winces and my respite is abruptly interrupted. Stretching out my arm, I rub Mira’s shoulder, offering her whatever I can to take her mind off the things going on below the belt.