“Thank God.”
“They wanted to keep her overnight for observation, but she refused. Said she’s going home. They’ve already discharged her.”
I swallow hard. “Good.”
The male nurse turns to me and says, “All ready for the ultrasound, Mrs. Bellanti.”
Dante eyes him suspiciously. I don’t blame him. I’m not even sure that I feel 100% secure having a man put his hands on me after what I’ve been through.
“I just need to lift the hospital gown over your belly,” the nurse says, coming over to the bed.
“Okay.” I brace myself as he gently pulls the white sheet down. But the second he starts to lift the hem of my gown, I flinch.
Immediately, he takes a step back. “Would you like to do it yourself, if that’s more comfortable? I just need the abdomen exposed for the ultrasound wand.”
Gratefully, I nod.
“Not a problem. I’ll give you a moment,” he says, crossing the room to busy himself with some settings on the machine.
Dante takes over where the nurse left off, carefully lifting my gown over my abdomen while making sure I’m still covered from the hips down with the sheet.
I notice he’s staring at my belly, brows drawn together, and that’s when I look down and realize I have a massive bruise on my side, black and purple and ugly. There’s also a small, grazing cut near my belly button. I start to shake again. Dante’s hand grasps mine and tightens.
“We’re ready,” he tells the nurse, his voice strained.
“Great. I’ll go get the doctor. Be right back.”
Moments later, he returns with Dr. Wyn, who moves with soothing, unhurried movements as she wheels the ultrasound machine next to my bed and takes a seat.
“I have some good news,” Dr. Wyn says. “The CT scan of your brain came back clear, with no signs of head trauma.”
As she goes on in more detail, all I can think about is the way that man grabbed me by the back of the head and slammed me facedown onto the floor. Getting dragged down the stairs, falling into the vanity table. I guess I should feel lucky my injuries weren’t worse—but right now, all I feel is rage toward the men who did this to me and Charlie. Rage, yes, and the sheer panic of not knowing if my baby is safe. Which is something only the ultrasound will tell us for sure.
“...x-rays of your chest show several hairline fractures on the seventh to tenth ribs, which is likely the source of those shooting pains you felt in your abdomen,” Dr. Wyn continues. “You also have severe external bruising over your ribs. That being said, the fractures will heal on their own in a month or two, so in the meantime you’ll just have to take it easy. We can give you some mild pain medication for the discomfort, but taking into account your pregnancy, options are limited. The safest thing for you is going to be acetaminophen.”
“So just Tylenol, basically,” I say.
“That’s right,” she says.
Dante squeezes my hand gently. “But what about the contractions she had?” he asks.
Dr. Wyn nods. “So what you described, Mrs. Bellanti, are Braxton Hicks contractions—a kind of false labor. They’re unfortunate but perfectly normal and most women do experience them during pregnancy. Think of it as the body’s way of practicing for the birth.”
“So...not early labor,” I say with relief.
“You’re certainly not in labor now,” Dr. Wyn says with a gentle smile. “But we’ll keep you here overnight just to be sure.”
“Thank you,” Dante says.
“Shall we move on to the ultrasound?” Dr. Wyn says, motioning for the nurse to turn the lights off in the room.
Soft gray light spills from the ultrasound screen. Dr. Wyn readjusts my gown and then squirts ultrasound gel across my abdomen. How different it is this time. Instead of excitement and anticipation, all I feel is overwhelming worry and concern. Even knowing my contractions were probably nothing, I can’t help fearing the worst.
As Dr. Wyn moves the wand over my belly, Dante tightens his grip around my shoulder. When the doctor turns the screen so she can see it better, my heart lurches to my throat. Dante leans forward, straining to see the screen.
“And...it looks like your daughter is perfectly healthy,” Dr. Wyn says.
We both let out a breath of relief. And then I realize what the doctor just said.
