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The nurse steers me into a room and asks my mother to wait outside. She then helps me change into a gown and assists me in lying down on the table that sits in the corner, my eyes closed against the bright lights overhead.
“Prop your feet on the edge of the table, honey,” the nurse advises and I do as she asks, turning my head and keeping my eyes closed as she checks me beneath the gown. “She’s losing a lot of blood. Let’s hook her up to an IV until the doctor arrives.”
“Want me to put a call into the sonographer?” another female asks.
“They won’t come in until the morning. I think Dr. James can run a sonogram on her.” The nurse drops the hem of my gown and comes to my side, taking my hand. “We’re going to get you an IV. You’re bleeding and we want to make sure you’re okay. Plus, we want to get some fluids in you, so we can do a sonogram.”
“To see the baby?”
Her expression grim, she nods.
I turn away from her again, keeping my eyes tightly closed, wishing I could fall asleep. But I can’t. I can hear every little thing. The squeak of the nurse’s shoes on the floor. The sound of her opening something. The faintly squeaking wheels of the IV stand as someone brings it in. Every single sound is amplified, and I lie there flat on my back, my arm clutching my stomach as I can feel my body literally expelling my baby.
All I can do is cry.
“I want my mom,” I cry to the nurse after she takes care of the IV.
“She can come in soon, I promise,” she says, her voice soft and kind.
But Mom doesn’t come in. I lie there and wait and wait. I can feel myself bleeding onto the pad they put beneath me and I cry harder.
Why? I ask.
Why me?
I must drift off to sleep because the nurse walks into the room, startling me.
“The doctor is here,” she says. “He’ll be in to see you in a minute.”
“Is my mom still here?” I ask, my throat so dry it almost hurts to speak.
She nods. “She’s in the waiting room.”
“I want Eli.” The tears streak down my face. “Tell her to call Eli for me? Would you? That’s my boyfriend. He’s the father.”
The nurse keeps nodding. “I’ll let her know.”
The doctor chooses that moment to enter the room, an older handsome man with graying temples and glasses. He smiles faintly when he sees me, glancing at the chart in his hands. “Hi, Ava. Do you mind if I call you Ava?”
I shake my head, my lower lip trembling.
“Let me explain what I’m going to do. First, I’m going to give you an examination. Then I’m going to do an ultrasound on you. Have you had one of those yet?” He checks my file again. “You’re about eight weeks pregnant?”
“Close, yeah,” I whisper. “And no, I’ve never had an ultrasound before.”
“Okay. I’m concerned that if you are having a miscarriage, we have to make sure that nothing gets left behind. If that happens, it could give you an infection.”
I nod, trying to understand what he’s saying. “So am I losing the baby?”
“I’m not sure yet.” He hands the nurse my file. “Let me wash my hands and take a look at you.”
I nod, watching as he goes to the counter on the other side of the room and turns on the faucet, washing his hands thoroughly in the sink.
Be brave, Ava, I tell myself, feeling stupid but needing the pep talk. It’s going to be okay. Maybe you’re not losing the baby. Maybe it’s just some weird, freak thing and it’ll clear up fast.
But deep down, my heart knows the truth. And when he flips the bloody hem of my hospital gown back and starts to examine me, I choke back a sob, the tears blurring my vision.
I’m losing baby Bennett.
