Seventy-Two Hours (10 page)

“Even after they’re here they tend to keep
their parents up at night,” she teased as she applied a dab of jelly on my
abdomen and pressed the microphone against me.

“That’s what we keep hearing from our friends
and family,” Chris told her as he began sharing some of the more humorous
anecdotes we’d heard about raising babies.

I noticed the almost imperceptible change of
expression on her face as Chris kept talking. She wasn’t really frowning, but it
was conveyed in her eyes.

She checked the Doppler again and then
resumed moving it around to various places along my belly. She paused a
moment, wiped the gel off absently before interrupting Chris to say, “If you’ll
excuse me a moment, I’m going to see if Ultrasound is available.”

I scrambled and grabbed her wrist pulling her
up short. “Something’s wrong. What is it?”

“I’m having a difficult time finding a
heartbeat,” she told me. “Ultrasound will tell us more.”

The ultrasound revealed the final,
devastating blow, and our worst nightmare. Our baby had died in my womb. Two
hours later, I was admitted into the hospital. I was running a fever which was
the reason I felt hot and clammy. I was doing my best to hold myself
together. Chris was doing his best as well. We were still trying to process everything.
Just the night before we were in bed together, his hands on my pregnant belly
as the baby kicked, nudged, and turned. Putting on a show for its parents.

The nurses started an IV antibiotic, per
doctor’s orders, as soon as I arrived. Dr. Calder came in a short while later
to administer Prostaglandin to soften my cervix. I didn’t take the news at all
well when they told me I would be delivering my baby vaginally versus a
c-section. I mean, how fair was that? All the wait and excitement and
expectations of pregnancy with the normal concerns of having a full-term,
healthy baby only to find out it was all for nothing. And now, to make matters
worse, I was going to participate in the delivery as if nothing had happened.
Why couldn’t I be knocked out and let them do all the work? I was scared and
my heart was breaking. Even as my doctor calmly explained to me that a natural
delivery was in my best interest for my future reproductive health, I argued
with her through hiccupping sobs and tears until Chris asked her if we could
have a moment alone.

And that’s where we were. Neither of us had
talked to the other. Stunned silence. He finally pulled a chair up beside the
bed and took my hand even though I fought to pull it away. I didn’t want to be
touched. However, he wasn’t going to give in and grasped it firmly.

“It wasn’t meant to be, Jenny,” he offered
words Dr. Calder had used in the ultrasound room.

“Don’t say that.”

“I’m hurting just as much as you are,
sweetheart, and I’m here for you. We have to stick together now and offer each
other comfort to get through this. You heard her. There was nothing you could
have done differently to stop it. It happened for whatever reason. Now, we
have to get through this next part. I won’t deny it’s going to be hard, but we
need to do this and then you need to get stronger. You’re running a fever
because you have some infection starting already. You’re my first priority.”

“Then don’t make me do this.”

“How about I see if the doctor can prescribe
something to help you sleep? Like she said, this is going to take a while. You
can take a nap, rest up, and I’ll call our parents and let them know what’s
going on. I’m sure you’d feel better with your mom here.”

I nodded my consent. My mom had always taken
care of me. Protected me from things that scared me and made me feel better
when I was feeling my worst. She’d understand my side and help them see
reason. Chris didn’t know how it felt. He wasn’t the one carrying our baby.
He hadn’t a clue what it was like having a life growing inside your body; a
silent passenger receiving nourishment and shelter. Completely dependent on you
and you alone.

My mom was sitting beside my bed and reading
a book when I woke up. As soon as she saw that I was awake, she put her book
down and came to me kissing my forehead. I didn’t know how long I had slept. All
I knew was, before I fell asleep, I wasn’t feeling any discomfort and now, I
was experiencing some moderate cramping.

While her lips were still pressed against my
temple I asked, “Did Chris tell you?”

“Yes, everything. I’m so very sorry. I wish
I could make it all go away for you, sweetheart.”

I looked around. “Where is he?”

“You were sleeping so soundly and, he figured
with me here to sit with you, he’d go to work and get things in order since
he’ll be out for the next day or two.”

I couldn’t believe it. “He left me? Now?
With what’s going on?” I sat up and looked around wildly as if I’d find him in
one of the corners napping in a chair because what my mother had said couldn’t
possibly be true. It was inconceivable. “He really left,” I murmured feeling
dejected and sank back on to the bed.”

“You were sleeping, honey. There wasn’t
anything he could do anyway. You doctor said nothing is going to happen until
early morning at the earliest,” my mother soothed as she patted my hand.
“Besides, I think Chris needed some privacy.”

“He…he told me we’d get through this
together.”

“And he’ll be here. Jenny, it’s hard for a
man to show his emotions in front of others. He needed some time alone and I’m
sure that’s what he’s using this time for more than anything else.”

It took me a moment to realize I was building
up for a good cry. My breathing had turned into choppy gulps of air and my throat
burned from the great effort I was using to hold back the sobs that wanted to
come out. Finally, I couldn’t. I grabbed onto my mother as if she were a
lifesaver meant to keep me from drowning. And maybe she was. With Chris gone,
I permitted what I’d been holding in to pour out of me. My mother gathered me
against her as she sat beside me and left me go. It didn’t take long and she
was crying right along with me, reassuring me that Chris and I would get
through it and try again someday. I couldn’t even think about trying again.
None of that worked to discount what I was feeling. It wasn’t a simple
miscarriage I was going through. If I had gone into premature labor instead,
my baby would have been perfectly viable at 36 weeks. That afternoon, would
have been bringing on a completely different outcome.

I spent a sleepless night tossing around on
the uncomfortable hospital bed. The cramping that I felt earlier had
intensified tenfold by morning. Dr. Dubinsky came in at 7:15 during morning
rounds and checked to see if my cervix had thinned from the Cervidil
suppository. It had and he also informed me I was at a solid three
centimeters. Before he was done with the exam, he ruptured my amniotic sack
which resulted in a warm gush bringing me that much closer to delivery. He
then ordered Pitocin to be administered with my IV. Just as Dr. Calder had done
the day before, Dr. Dubinsky talked to me with such kindness. Pity written all
over his face.

I pushed Chris away when he tried to kiss
me. I didn’t want to hear how proud of me he was or that it would be over
soon. He hadn’t returned to the hospital until 9:30 the night before and I was
mad at him for it. He was gone for six hours. How dare he run away while I
was dealing with the hardest event ever to happen to me? Too bad that he
didn’t want to show his emotions in front of others. I had to do it. I was
stuck there. I had no choice.

The hard contractions began about two hours
later provoking my nurse to check my dilation. I was at a solid five and
progressing nicely. She explained that the doctor had ordered the Pitocin
dosage increased every hour.

While other family members made short visits
before returning to the waiting room, my mom was a constant at my bedside.
Offering me ice chips for my dry mouth since I wasn’t permitted to have
anything else in the event a stat c-section was needed. She wiped my face off with
a cool washcloth since sweating seemed to be a new hobby of mine. She even
gave me back rubs to help get my mind off of the contractions. I’d been giving
my husband the cold shoulder to let him know how it felt to be alone when your
world was seemingly falling apart.

By 5:20, I was fully dilated. Dr. Calder was
the on-call physician as of 5:00, but Dr. Dubinsky stayed on to assist in the
delivery. And it wasn’t easy. After a few, brief modifications, my bed turned
into a birthing bed complete with leg rests and handholds.

I did my best to concentrate on what I was
being told to do and not so much about why I was doing it. I’d convinced
myself that detachment was the only way I was going to survive. If I thought
about it too much, I’d focus on our loss, dissolve into tears again, and it
wouldn’t be productive.

Unable to stay angry with Chris, I’d taken
his hand when I needed to begin pushing. My mother had my other hand and kept
talking to me.

At one point, Dr. Calder asked me to take a
break from pushing which seemed crazy. While I may be able to sit back and
stop pushing, my body seemed to have a mind of its own. The contractions were
just as strong during my break. I knew I was groaning with great effort.

“You’re doing great, honey. I’m so proud of
you,” my mom told me as she dabbed at my forehead with the washcloth.

Dr. Calder asked me to bear down again and I
did without hesitation. She announced when the head was out and I closed my
eyes. I didn’t want to see anything. And then the delivery was over.

Chris bent down, burying his head in my neck
as he lost his composure. My mother tried comforting both of us while she
cried softly over her first grandchild that “wasn’t meant to be.”

Dr. Dubinsky approached us and said, “There wasn’t
anything you could have done differently, Jennifer. Unfortunately, the baby
was entangled in the umbilical cord. I’m very sorry for your loss.”

“Would you like to hold your daughter?” Dr.
Calder asked as she held the forever silent infant in a receiving blanket. “We
can give you a moment alone with her.”

The counselor that had met with us the day
before was present and offered her input, “It’s entirely up to you. Holding
the baby is sometimes helpful for parents in working through the grieving process.”

She’d mentioned it to us before. Only then,
the very idea made my heart feel as if it was being torn into tiny pieces.
Now, I wasn’t so sure. Now that I knew the sex of my baby. I met Chris’ eyes
and silently consulted with him. He shrugged and my mother stepped in.

“Go ahead, Jenny. If you don’t, I fear
you’ll regret it for the rest of your life,” she soothed. “I’m right here with
you.”

I agreed and for the next half hour, I held
my baby. Ten little fingers. Ten little toes. Wisps of brown hair that
formed a swirl around the crown of her head. A cupid’s bow for her mouth. If
her color wasn’t slightly off, she’d have appeared in a peaceful sleep. Almost
perfect. Almost ours.

We named her Spencer Katherine before she was
taken away.

Present Day

We ended up at Ports Café. Lucking out when
a reservation cancelled moments before we arrived, otherwise, we’d be looking
for a different venue on this busy holiday weekend. Chris even joked about
purchasing a lottery ticket since that type of luck never seemed to happen for
us in such a way. He was convinced it may be the start of a new trend.

Our table for two was located out along the
front porch where we had a view of nearby Route 14 and the lake beyond. Chris
ordered a bottle of Fox Run Cabernet Franc while we perused our menus.

“Do you have any idea what you’re going to
order?” I asked as I looked across the table at him in his reading glasses and
thought, “When did he change from young, virile, and handsome to older, distinguished,
and, well,
sexy
?” It surely happened a while ago and I just hadn’t
taken the time to notice. How long ago did we become two ships passing in the
night? I could complain about his never being home, but what I was talking
about was a simple matter of observation. Or lack of as was the case.

“The entire time we were driving I was
thinking about a large piece of red meat, but the striped bass and scallops she
mentioned is winning me over.”

“I initially had a cold salad in mind, but
the crab raviolis sound more appealing.”

While we dined on appetizers and chatted
about everything, sans work or our marriage, I attempted to remember the last
time we’d been able to talk like that. I suppose part of me was baffled by it
in light of our volatile weekend. One minute indifferent. The next at each
other’s throats with comments meant to wound. Regardless, being in a public
place had brought out our manners proving we could be civil.

“I think that’s the best dining experience
I’ve had in years,” I declared as I buckled my seatbelt.

“Agreed. I wonder if Jim and Nancy have ever
eaten there.” He said as he backed out of the parking spot.

“Maybe next time we’re up we can bring them…”
and then I trailed off. There wouldn’t be a next time. I attempted to play it
off. “Wow, listen to me. Dinner went so well, I almost forgot.”