by Beth K. Vogt
“We’re all going to enjoy it today, although I might sit inside some, too, if that’s okay.”
“Whatever you want to do, honey.”
“What I want to do is enjoy air-conditioning as much as possible. I’m so glad you and Dad opted to install that on the house years ago.”
“Are you sleeping well?”
“Not great, but I manage. I miss sleeping on my back. Dr. Gray suggested I invest in one of those body pillows, so I may do that and see if it helps.”
“We can run out later today and pick one up if you want to.”
“Maybe. Or I can stop at the store in the next couple of days. Let’s see how the day goes.”
I didn’t want to be one of those women who talked about her pregnancy all the time, cataloging every little ache or pain. How tired I was. How often I had to empty my bladder.
Like now. My bladder never let me forget I was pregnant.
It might be easier to move my office to one of the ladies’ restrooms at work. But that would make things awkward when Axton came looking for me.
“I’ll be right back, Mom. I need to use the bathroom. Again.”
Mom offered a knowing smile. “I remember those days, especially when I was pregnant with the twins.”
“I can’t even imagine being pregnant with two.” I waved away the thought. “We can finish prepping the burgers—”
“I’ll do that. Go to the bathroom, and after that sit and relax. Do you want some iced tea?”
“Sounds perfect.”
As Mom disappeared upstairs, I opted for the convenience of the half bathroom right off the family room. Lowered myself to the toilet . . . then gasped and clutched the side of the vanity at the sight of bright-red blood spotting my underwear.
I was bleeding. Why . . . why was I bleeding?
My fingers gathered the pale-blue material of my sundress. The dress Jillian had selected for me when we’d gone shopping.
Her peace offering.
This made no sense. Today was supposed to be a fun family day. Traditional backyard barbecue. Time to relax. Maybe watch fireworks. Not this. It was as if someone had come and scraped the length of my parents’ beautiful new deck with a rototiller. Scarred it.
My heart pounded.
I couldn’t just sit here asking myself, “Why?” I needed to call someone. Get help.
Not for me.
For my baby.
I drew a shaky breath, swallowing the rising urge to scream. What I needed to do was stay calm. It wasn’t that much blood.
I forced myself to relax my grip on the vanity. Pushed myself to my feet, refusing to look in the mirror over the bathroom sink as I readjusted my clothing.
The first thing to do was call Dr. Gray’s office.
I took the stairs, a slow step up and stop, step up and stop procedure, retrieving my phone from my purse in the foyer. Easy enough to slip into the living room with Mom in the kitchen and everyone else outside admiring the new deck.
“This is the answering service for Dr. Gray’s office. How can I help you?”
It was a holiday. Of course the office was closed.
“This is Johanna Thatcher. I’m one of Dr. Gray’s patients. How do I reach her?”
“Is there a problem, Miss Thatcher?”
“I wouldn’t call unless there was a problem.” I chewed my bottom lip. Modulated my tone. “I’m sorry. Yes, I’m thirty-two weeks pregnant. I have placenta previa and I’m spotting.”
“Are you bleeding heavily? Are you light-headed? Short of breath? Do we need to call 911 for you?”
“No. So far, it’s only spotting. I’m not certain when it started.”
“We can contact Dr. Gray for you, but she’s going to tell you to go immediately to labor and delivery. Are you in the Springs?”
“Yes. I’m supposed to deliver at St. Francis.”
“Then go ahead and go there—and have someone drive you. Immediately. If no one is available, call 911.”
“I’m with family.”
“We’ll contact Dr. Gray. She may call you back or she may just phone in orders for you to go to St. Francis and then meet you at the hospital.”
Talking to the unknown woman on the phone was a lifeline. She was calm. Emotionless. That meant I could be calm and emotionless, too.
I’d turned away from the downstairs, from the sliding-glass doors that led outside to where most of my family was having fun. I only wished they could talk to the woman on the phone, too. After ending the call, I stood for a moment, debating what to do. Mom was in the kitchen. Everyone else was outside.
Maybe, just maybe, Payton had her cell phone with her.
My call went to voice mail. I’d have to walk downstairs, get my sister, and walk back up again. It couldn’t be avoided. Despite the air-conditioning, sweat dampened the material of my dress.
Once I stood just inside the sliding-glass doors, I waited until Payton glanced my way, motioning her over.
“Do you need something, Johanna?”
“Be calm. Don’t react.” I gripped her arm, pulling her close. “I need you to drive me to the hospital. Now.”
“What?” When Payton tried to jerk away, I held her steady.
“Don’t react. Please.” I kept my voice low. “Just drive me to the hospital.”
My sister still refused to move. “Johanna, what is going on? Are you in labor?”
“No. I’m bleeding.” Saying the words out loud caused my heart rate to ratchet up again. “Spotting, really. I called my doctor’s office and the answering service told me to go to labor and delivery at St. Francis right away. They’re contacting Dr. Gray.”
“We have to tell the family—”
My fingers tightened around my sister’s arm. “Please, Payton. I don’t have time to deal with everyone’s reactions. We have to leave. Now. You can call them while we’re on the way. I don’t care. I can’t drive myself.” I shoved my car keys into her hands. “I need your help.”
How did I get caught in such a role reversal? I took care of others. I was the in-charge Thatcher sister. I preferred it that way. If Payton didn’t say yes and start walking upstairs toward the front door, I would snatch the keys back from her and ignore what the woman had said about having someone drive me to the hospital. It wasn’t that far of a drive.
Don’t make me ask you twice.
“I’ll drive you.” As if she’d heard my unspoken declaration, Payton stepped up beside me, grabbing her purse from where it sat next to the family room couch. “Let’s go.”
With one quick motion, I closed the sliding-glass door, muffling the sound of everyone’s laughter.
Now we just needed to get out of the house without Mom seeing us.
Tears brimmed when I realized no one had blocked my car in the driveway. I was not quite as calm as I thought I was.
Payton slid in behind the steering wheel, locking her seat belt into place. “You said St. Francis, right?”
“Yes. You need to head north—”
“I’ve got this, Johanna.” She started the engine, backing the car into the street. “You said you’re bleeding. When did it start?”
“I don’t know. I went to the bathroom and that’s when I realized something was wrong. Everything’s been fine up until now. We were going to do another ultrasound next week . . .”
“Do you want to call the family while I drive?”
“No.” I closed my eyes, leaning back against the headrest. “Just call Mom, I guess. Tell her what’s going on and that we’ll let them know when everything’s fine.”
“Everything will be fine.” My sister gripped my hand. “I’m praying.”
“Go right ahead and keep doing that.” If it made Payton feel better to pray, fine. It wouldn’t change anything, but it wouldn’t hurt. I only wished I could find some comfort in her offer, but I never had before, and I wouldn’t let emotions rule my choices now.
“Listen, if you dial Mom, I’ll do the talking, okay? Just put it on
speaker.” Payton never took her eyes off the road.
“Okay.”
“And you know no one’s going to wait at home, right?”
“There’s no reason for everybody to come to the hospital—”
“You’re the reason, Johanna. You and the baby.”
Again, tears blurred my vision.
I’d called on Payton in a crisis because I didn’t have a choice. Jillian and I were still finding our way back to each other. Who knew? Maybe it would be easier for her if I miscarried.
The thought came from out of nowhere, causing me to catch my breath.
“Are you okay?” Payton still hadn’t let go of my hand.
“Yes. Yes, I’m fine.”
I pleated the soft material of the sundress. Again. And again. And again.
I was not going to lose my daughter.
I’d missed the Fourth of July.
Everyone in the family had, but at least they’d been able to go home and sleep in their own beds. And none of them were hooked up to monitors, with IVs stuck in their arms. None of them had to drag an IV pole along with them whenever they had to use the bathroom.
And they most definitely were not afraid to pee.
I might not ever feel comfortable going to the bathroom again until after this baby was born.
Now, here I sat in a hospital-issued gown, my hair finger-brushed into place, having a different kind of “morning-after” discussion with my doctor.
“I’m sorry I ruined the holiday for everyone—especially for you, Dr. Gray.”
“I’m thankful you did what I asked you to do.” She stood at the foot of the bed, the stereotypical stethoscope around her neck. “Calling the office and then following the on-call nurse’s instructions to come to the hospital was the right thing to do.”
“But it was a false alarm. The baby is fine.”
“We wouldn’t know that unless you had called and come in.”
“I still don’t understand why I can’t go home. I haven’t had any more bleeding.”
“It’s routine to keep you here for observation—” Dr. Gray raised her hand, forestalling my protest. “Yes, even though everything looks good—blood work, ultrasound. Even though you’re not contracting. And you still need to make arrangements to stay within twenty minutes of the hospital for the duration of your pregnancy—with someone with you twenty-four hours a day.”
I continued to balk at the last two requirements. “I’m an adult. I can take care of myself.”
“Not if you’re home alone and you start hemorrhaging.”
With those words, Dr. Gray won. There was no way I could find an argument that conquered the word hemorrhage. I gripped the edge of the bed the same way I’d gripped the vanity in the bathroom.
Nothing had happened. There’d been no real crisis, just the possibility of one. But there could be one in the future—as much as I wanted to insist there wouldn’t be.
“You’re coming home with me, Johanna.” Mom spoke up from where she sat in a corner of the room. I’d forgotten she was there, even though she’d stayed all night, having enough foresight to bring a blanket and pillow from home, but still getting no more sleep than I had. “We already agreed to that.”
“I know. And I appreciate it. I do. But now I have to call my boss and deal with my job. And then I have to get stuff from my house . . .”
“I can do that for you.” Beckett strode into the room that was already too crowded.
“What are you doing here?” I tried to sit up straighter, but the two monitor bands around my stomach restricted my movement.
“Your parents called me last night. They thought I should know—”
“Mom, why would you call him?”
“Don’t get upset.” Mom rushed to stand beside my bed. “We all talked about it. We know you and Beckett aren’t together anymore, but he is the baby’s father . . .”
“Beckett and I are discussing how that’s going to play out.” And now Dr. Gray was an uninvited witness to the consequences of my failed engagement.
“We understand that. We weren’t sure what was the best thing to do, but we thought, just in case something went wrong—”
“Your family did the right thing, calling me.” Beckett held his position beside Dr. Gray.
“Nothing happened. I’m fine. The baby’s fine.”
“And what if something had happened? Do you think I would want to get a phone call after the fact?”
“To be honest, Beckett, I wasn’t thinking about you at all during any of this.”
My words brought silence to the room. Beckett and I were like patients who chose to mix their medications with alcohol—a dangerous combination.
He was as handsome as ever. The father of my child.
But what we had—what we’d meant to each other—couldn’t matter anymore. It didn’t matter.
Dr. Gray stepped into the silence. “Excuse me, I’d like for things to settle down. I’m trying to care for my patients—both mother and unborn child. I’d prefer not to have to escort anyone out of this room or this hospital. But I will.”
Beckett pulled himself up to his full height, shoulders back. “I apologize. I’m Lt. Colonel Sager, the baby’s father—”
“And I’m Dr. Hayden Gray, and in this hospital, I outrank you. I don’t mean to be rude, but my concern right now is Johanna. If you’d step into the hallway, please.”
“I was offering to help.”
“I believe there are family members in the waiting area you can talk to about that.”
She waited, her gaze unwavering, until Beckett exited the room, then shut the door on him. “I hope you don’t mind, Johanna, but I thought it best to not let—Beckett, is it?—get out of control.”
“No.” I had to hold back a laugh. “That was perfect.”
“He’s not the first temperamental boyfriend I’ve had to deal with.”
“Ex. Ex-fiancé.”
“It’s not the topic of the day, but you can decide who is with you when the baby is born and who can visit you now and when you deliver.”
“Thank you. Beckett’s not abusive. He’s just assertive.”
I must be more tired than I realized. I’d let another woman do battle for me.
Voices murmured outside the door. My family—and now Beckett—were not staying within the confines of the waiting area.
A couple of civil interactions, including Beckett telling me about his father, didn’t mean I owed him anything—even the chance to help me. He needed to respect my boundaries, but instead, he was skewing them.
“I’ll be back tomorrow to discharge you, Johanna. Until then, rest. And yes, I know that’s hard to do in the hospital, hooked up to these monitors. But try. It’s only another twenty-four hours.”
“When you put it that way, how can I complain?” I could only hope Dr. Gray took note of my muted sarcasm.
“Remember my instructions, which I’ll repeat tomorrow before you leave and also print on your discharge papers. Bed rest. No exercise. No going to work. If you have bleeding of any kind, you call me, and then you come right to labor and delivery. Understood?”
“Yes.”
“We’ll talk more tomorrow.” Dr. Gray faced Mom. “It was nice to meet you, Mrs. Thatcher. I hope the next time I see you for an extended period of time, it’s for your granddaughter’s birth day.”
“I hope so, too, Dr. Gray.”
And then it was just Mom and me.
“I like your doctor.”
“I do, too.” I was surprised to hear myself say the words—and to realize I meant them. “Mom, I’ll go back to your house tomorrow, like we agreed. If I make out a list, would you ask either Jillian or Payton to get what I need from my house?”
“What do you want me to say to Beckett?”
Beckett.
“I’d forgotten about him.”
“Do you want me to talk to him for you?” Mom stepped toward the door.
“No. I can talk to him. It�
�s not as if I have anything else to do except sit here.”
“Then I’ll go talk to your sisters and have Beckett come in.”
A few moments later, Beckett and I faced off again, the silence stretching between us until Beckett shifted his feet and cleared his throat. “Your mother said one of your sisters is going to get your stuff for you.”
“Yes.”
“I wasn’t trying to irritate you, you know.”
“You were trying to help.”
“Yes.”
“I know, Beckett.” I ran my fingers through my unwashed hair again. It was bad enough that my natural color was showing at the roots, letting everyone know I wasn’t a true platinum blonde. One of the first appointments after I had my baby would be with my hairstylist. If only I’d had the chance to put on some makeup, but it wasn’t as if Beckett had never seen me without it. “You want to help, but you’re not that person in my life anymore.”
“I just . . . I just got scared when I heard. For the baby. And for you.” Beckett shrugged. “There’s not much I can do, so I thought—”
“Thanks. I appreciate the offer.” I tugged the blanket higher on my body. “We’ve agreed we’ll figure this out for the baby. But it’s going to take time.”
“Right.”
“I’m going to be staying at my parents’ now until the baby is born.”
“Would it . . . would it be okay if I check in with you?”
“Sure. I don’t mind a text now and then.”
“And you’ll let me know if anything happens—”
“We’re counting on everything being quiet from here on out.”
“Yes.”
“Would you ask my mom to come back in?”
“Will do.” Beckett paused. “Thanks, Johanna.”
“We’ll figure it out.” I offered him my most self-assured smile.
“We will.”
And then I was alone again—at least for a moment.
I shifted in the hospital bed, careful not to move the belts around my body. It would take me a while to get used to having to be on my side all the time. The ever-present beeping of the monitors both irritated and soothed me, letting me know my daughter was okay.
