The Choices We Make (14 page)

27

HANNAH

The nurse handed Ben a clear plastic bag with a blue-capped cup inside. Even though we had been here, done this, so many times over the past few years, Ben always held the bag as if it contained toxic waste—the zippered top pinched between two fingers and held slightly away from his body.

“Why does everything have to be see-through?” he murmured, looking at the bag in his hand as we followed the nurse down the hall. “I hate this part.”

“But this is the best part,” I replied, rubbing his back and trying to hide my smile. “Nothing like porn being prescribed for your ‘procedure,'” I said, my fingers making air quotes for the last word. “Way better than anything I've had to do.”

“This isn't a competition for who has it worse,” Ben said, smiling as we sat down to wait until his name was called. “But you're right. Even if I have to go into a room right after another guy comes out of it, and the magazines are always the same ones, and everyone knows
exactly
what I'm doing in there.”

I laughed. “At least they clean the rooms in between.”

“Are you sure about that?” Ben asked.

“Let's talk about something else,” I replied, grimacing.

“How about how you're feeling?”

“Really? Why not something more fun, or at least half-interesting?”

Ben gave me a look. “How am I feeling?” I took a deep breath and then let it out. “I'm feeling excited. And terrified. And so nervous for Kate.” I chewed the inside of my cheek. “I can't stop thinking about what that social worker said, how Kate might feel really guilty if she doesn't get pregnant.”

“That will be as much my fault as hers,” Ben said, lifting the plastic bag up. “I'll try to get only the really fast swimmers in here.”

I smiled, but my heart wasn't in it. “She won't handle it well. You know Kate—she'll blame herself no matter what.”

“I know,” Ben said, placing the bag-less hand on my thigh and squeezing. “So let's just hope it works.”

“Ben Matthews?”

“Do they really have to use our full names?” Ben whispered as he got up, and I chuckled. “See you on the other side.”

“Good luck, babe,” I said.

He held up a hand in acknowledgment, following the nurse down the hall before going into one of the rooms.

My phone buzzed, and I looked at the screen. A message from Kate saying they were on their way. My heart fluttered as I typed a quick message back, wondering if today would be the day that changed my life.

* * *

“I got us something,” Kate said, sitting up on the exam table. “Can you hand me the plastic bag in my purse?” She was gowned and ready, and we were just waiting for Dr. Horwarth and Ben's freshly washed sperm.

I grabbed the white plastic bag from her purse and gave it to her. “What is it?”

“You'll see,” she replied, a goofy smile on her face. “Close your eyes and hold out your hands.”

I did, and a moment later she placed something soft and light in my outstretched hands.

“Can I open my eyes now?”

“One sec... Okay, now. Ta-da!”

She had on a T-shirt, stretched tightly over her medical gown, with the words
Think Positive
written across the chest, an oval underneath the message with two pink lines in it—like you'd find on a positive pregnancy test. I burst out laughing, then instantly started crying looking at the shirt in my hands, which was identical.

“No, no, no. This wasn't supposed to make you cry!” Kate looked stricken and started to pull her shirt off.

“Leave it on,” I blubbered. “I love it.” With a quick wipe of my eyes with the back of my hand, I held up the shirt and read the words again. “I love it, really. It's perfect. Thank you.”

“You're welcome.” Kate jumped off the table to hug me. “I got one for Dr. Horwarth, too, in case you thought he might wear it?” She grinned and held out a larger T-shirt with the same message.

“He'll wear it for sure,” I said, laughing at the image of the three of us in our T-shirts during the procedure.

“Good.” Kate sat back on the table and smoothed Dr. Horwarth's shirt across her lap. “This is going to work, Hannah. I had a good long chat with my eggs this morning, and they know what's expected of them. They won't let us down.”

I paused, running my fingers over the two pink lines on the T-shirt. “You know you won't be letting me down if this doesn't work, right?”

“It's going to work,” Kate said, with a look that told me there was no point in arguing. “Now get your shirt on and get ready, because we're about to make a baby.”

28

KATE

It had been eleven days since the insemination, and that morning I gagged while making scrambled eggs for the girls. Then I had the strongest craving for olives covered in melted American cheese slices—a particularly disgusting combination I had craved during my other two pregnancies. Sitting down on the closed lid of the toilet I glanced at the pregnancy test, knowing I still had thirty seconds to wait. Impatient, I rested my hands on my knees to keep them from grabbing the pee stick and bounced my toes against the penny marble floor. I couldn't wait to tell Hannah we were expecting. It was a moment that could only be topped by watching her face when her baby was placed in her arms for the first time.

A second later my phone timer beeped, and I grabbed for the stick, holding my breath. “Come on, come on, come on...” I repeated, my legs still bouncing. I flipped the stick over and stared at it.

There were two lines. I turned and looked in the mirror, a huge grin spreading across my face.

There were two lines.

In my haste to send David a text my phone slipped out of my hands and I grabbed for it before it could hit the ground. But in doing so I lost my balance and fell sideways, cracking my head on the towel rack. Dizzy, I quickly put a hand to the front of my head and was stunned when it came away covered in a lot of blood.

“Shit,” I said, sitting down on the toilet seat again and grabbing a hand towel to press against the cut. I didn't look in the mirror because I was afraid I might pass out if it was too bad. Still pressing the towel to my head I bent forward to get my phone, my head throbbing. I called David's cell, even though I knew he had just started a twelve-hour shift, then hung up when I got his voice mail.

I didn't want to call Hannah because this wasn't how I wanted her to find out she was going to be a mother—in the ER, while I was forced to admit the pregnancy when giving a record of my medical history, some resident stitching up my head. No, it had to be special. Hannah deserved that moment.

Cora, David's mother, had gone back to Sacramento earlier in the week, and the mom I was closest to on the PTA had a houseful of flu-ridden kids. I could just call a cab, but I was going to have to call someone eventually—especially if the ER was busy and I wasn't going to be home to get the girls.

Once I was in the cab, a fresh washcloth pressed to my still bleeding head, I scrolled through my contacts and hit Dial.

“Hey, it's Kate. Could you do me a favor?”

* * *

Ben insisted on meeting me at the hospital even though I reassured him I was fine and was walking through the emergency room doors as I came out of triage.

He sat beside me on a waiting room chair and leaned in to get a look at my head when I lifted the wad of gauze the nurse had given me. “Ouch. How's the other guy?”

“I've always hated that towel rack. Now it's for sure getting ripped out of the wall.” Ben laughed and leaned back, crossing one long leg over his knee.

“I forget how tall you are sometimes,” I said. “Wonder if the baby will get your height.”

He looked at me curiously but didn't say anything for a moment. “Do you know something?” he finally asked, his tone cautious.

I nodded, unable to hold in the grin. “The test this morning was positive. I was so excited I dropped my phone, then hit my head when I bent down to get it.” Ben was still just staring at me, nodding as if I was telling him something that was only moderately interesting.

“Ben?” The nodding was disconcerting, and I wanted him to say something.

“You're pregnant?”

“I'm pregnant.” I put my hand out for a high five, but Ben didn't acknowledge it. Instead he ran his fingers over his tight, dark curls and let out a jagged breath. “Hannah. I... We need to tell Hannah.”

“No, not yet,” I said, letting my hand drop. “I want it to be special, okay? And I've only had one positive test, so I don't want to get her excited until I'm sure there's something to be excited about.”

Ben was back to nodding, and he looked a bit ill. “Yes. You're right. That's the best idea.”

“Are you going to pass out on me? Because I think one head injury is enough for one day.”

He leaned forward, his elbows dropping heavily to his knees, and cupped his chin in his hands. “We're going to have a baby.” His voice was thick, and he was crying softly.

I felt a jagged surge of emotion hit the back of my throat. With my free hand I rubbed his back, then put an arm around his shoulders. “This is great news, Ben. Are you okay?”

“Totally. I'm fine. You're the one bleeding all over the waiting room,” he said, turning to look at me. “I'm supposed to be comforting you.” I laughed. He shook his head, his eyes wide and bright with tears. “I'm just... I'm amazed. That's the best way to say it. This is amazing.”

“Kate Cabot?” The nurse stood at the periphery of the waiting room, looking at the chart in her hand. She called my name again, in a monotone voice that suggested she was well into her shift.

Ben stood up when I did, keeping a protective hand on my back. “Do you want anything? A coffee? Shit, I guess you can't have coffee now?”

“Decaf is fine. That would be great, thanks.” I told the nurse Ben was just grabbing a coffee and with a smile she promised to bring him back when he returned. Maybe she wasn't so miserable after all.

Fifteen minutes later, bored and hoping no traumas came in to bump me out of the queue, I heard the nurse's voice again. “She's in there.” A second later the curtain was pushed to the side and in walked David, Ben behind him with two coffees in hand.

“What the hell happened?” David peeled back the gauze and inspected my head, his own forehead creased in what I knew was professional assessment tinged with a little personal concern. “Doesn't look too bad. Shouldn't leave much of a scar.” He gently pressed the gauze back against the cut and held it there for me, then leaned down to kiss me.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, shifting on the uncomfortable stretcher. My butt was falling asleep. I touched my fingertips back to the gauze so he could let go. “How did you know I was here?”

“We had a patient transfer, and then I saw Ben walking through the waiting room.”

Ben handed me my coffee. “Decaf,” he said, grinning. “Also, I didn't tell him.”

“Decaf?” David asked, crossing his arms over his chest. He frowned. “You never drink decaf.”

“The test was positive.” I said it as if I were announcing the most mundane thing—like that it was garbage day or that we were expecting rain overnight—but my face cracked into a smile so wide it actually hurt my cheeks.

“No kidding,” David said, a smile slowly spreading across his face. “Guess scrambled eggs really are your litmus test, huh?”

Ben looked between us. “Scrambled eggs?” he asked.

“Not important,” I said. “But what is important is me getting out of here so we can figure out how we're going to tell Hannah. I was thinking another T-shirt might be in order, maybe with a picture of an oven and a bun baking inside? Too lame? Or one that says, ‘Does this baby make me look fat?' I think she might laugh if I walk in wearing that one. What do you think, guys?”

“I vote for number two,” David said, kissing my cheek. “Now let me see if I can get you stitched and sprung so you can get to T-shirt making. Let me check who's on. I'll be right back.”

After David left I held up my cup and Ben did the same. “Cheers to making a baby, Ben.”

“Cheers,” he said. Then without warning he enveloped me in an awkward hug, my one arm pinned against my body and the other still holding my coffee out to the side. Coffee sloshed from the hole in his coffee's takeaway lid, splashing onto the paper sheet covering the stretcher. Neither of us moved. “Thank you, Kate,” he whispered, squeezing hard. “Thank you.”

29

KATE

April

There was a knock and I lifted my head. “Mom?” Ava called out through the bathroom door.

I swallowed through the nausea and waited a moment to be sure I wasn't about to throw up again. “What is it, baby?”

“Do you know where my jean jacket is?”

“The hall closet, I think.”

“Nope. I checked.”

The wave of nausea swirled up through my belly, and I swallowed again, closing my eyes and feeling desperate for something, anything, to make this feeling go away. “Did you ask Dad?”

“He said to ask you.”

Well, shit, David. Thanks for that.
I had spent more time in the past two weeks with my head hanging in the toilet bowl than not, a particularly horrible side effect I hadn't experienced with either of my girls. Even though I was not one to suffer if I didn't have to—quickly reaching for my migraine pills or cough syrup for a tickle in my throat—I wanted to stay medication-free for this pregnancy. I had a newfound sympathy for every mother who had ever experienced morning sickness—or all-day vomiting, as was the case with me. It was horrible.

Feeling the wave of sickness starting to crest in my stomach, moving upward, I quickly told Ava I'd be right out and to check the closets again.

“Okay, Mom,” she said, adding, “Feel better!” as I threw up again, nothing left in my stomach except for bile and the last sip of water I'd managed to get down.

A few minutes later I had brushed my teeth and washed my face and was fairly sure I could leave the safety of the restroom. As I opened the door I startled; David was right on the other side.

“Sorry,” he said. “I made you some ginger and honey tea.” I smiled gratefully and took the mug of steaming tea, the scent sharp and sweet and pleasing as it swirled into my nose. It was his mom's recipe, one she'd used through all her pregnancies—which she referred to as her four trips to “vomit-palooza”—and so far it was about the only thing I could stomach in the mornings.

“Ava said it sounded like you were throwing up your insides.” He laid a hand on my hot cheek, and I leaned against it, the coolness settling me.

“She's not wrong,” I said, taking a small sip of the tea. “That's about how it feels.”

“Want me to reschedule the appointment today?”

I shook my head, then stopped quickly when the movement made my stomach lurch. “No. Even if I have to barf into plastic bags all through it, we're going.” David laughed. “Did Ava find her jacket?”

“It was in the hall closet,” David said. Then noting the look on my face he said, “She told me she looked there first.”

“Mmm-hmm,” I murmured, wrapping my fingers around the mug. I had to admit my mother-in-law, Cora, was right about the tea; it did seem to help with the nausea.

“The tea's helping?”

“Maybe,” I said, shrugging. I loved Cora, but she always made me feel a tad inexperienced—she had raised four boys, ran a successful business, could cook a gourmet seven-course meal with her eyes closed and oozed confidence.

The doorbell rang and Ava shouted up the stairs that their ride was here. “I'll go. You sit and regroup.”

“Thanks,” I said, going out on our bedroom's balcony. I saw our neighbor Darlene and her son, Henry, on the front steps and waved when she looked up, shielding her eyes from the sun. “Hey, Darlene,” I called down. She waved. “Thanks again for taking the girls today.”

“You bet,” she said. “Hope all goes well at the dentist. Root canals are no fun.”

“Thanks, sure it will be fine.” We hadn't told anyone about the pregnancy yet, or that today was our ultrasound to see how many babies I had growing inside me. “I'll call you later. Bye, girls, love you.”

Ava and Josie turned and waved, then followed Darlene and Henry down the front steps and to her car. A few minutes later I was shoving plastic bags into my purse and sliding my feet into my comfiest ballet flats, David pouring my tea into a travel mug.

“Think that will be enough bags?” David raised an eyebrow, watching me grab two more from under the sink.

“Better too many than not enough.” I patted my purse and took the travel mug from him.

“Okay, last chance to reschedule. You sure?”

“I'm sure.” My phone buzzed against my side, from inside my purse. I pulled it out and quickly glanced at the screen. “Hannah and Ben are on their way.”

He opened the door and gestured for me to walk out ahead of him. “Let's go see what's causing all this vomit drama, okay?”

“Want to take guesses on one or two?”

“No need to guess.” David shut the door and locked it behind us. “I know you have two in there.”

“How?”

“Because you don't do anything half-assed.”