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“You’re overreacting,” she said. “I’m surprised I’m still breathing, let alone having a period.”
“Look, now I want to know,” Ryan replied, fear growing exponentially. What would a pregnancy mean to her health?
“Okay, pregnancy test it is.”
She was pregnant. Sitting on the closed toilet with the test in her hand and Ryan hovering over her, they stared at the double pink lines. Pregnant. A solitary tear made its way down her cheek.
“I need to find out right away how far along I am. Just pray it’s very early. Because if I’ve been pregnant for a while, this poor baby has been exposed to enough cancer-killing drugs and X-rays—oh god, I can’t even think about it.”
“Call Albert,” he said emphatically, his usual refrain.
“What’s Albert going to do?”
“He has clout! He’ll get you in to see a groinacologist right away.”
She laughed and wiped the tear away. “Okay, I see your point. Where’s my phone?”
Albert went to bat for her like he did when she needed to see someone about the headaches, and she was in to see an obstetrician that afternoon.
“You’re pregnant alright. But early, so don’t worry about exposure. I’d say you are about four weeks.”
The relief swept over her with such intensity that she burst into tears. Their baby would hopefully be okay.
Seven months later, she delivered a healthy baby girl a month early, after an uneventful pregnancy, because the cancer had returned. And when it came back, it came back with a vengeance. She woke up on a Monday morning nauseated and headachy.
“Either I have the flu or I’m in labor. Do you think you could stay home with me?”
She’d never, in all that they had been through, asked him to stay home from work.
“Home it is,” he said. “But call the doctor.”
The call triggered a nightmare. While she waited at the hospital to have a CAT scan, she had a seizure, which led to the decision to do an emergency C-section, and baby Grace was born that afternoon. The joyous birth overshadowed the horror to come.
“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but this might be the happiest day of my life,” Caroline said, looking at the face of her little baby.
“Mine too! She’s amazing. Thank you so much, my love. We have our family. This is what we planned when we were in San Francisco.”
But then the oncologist presented the couple with a big choice.
“You can begin chemo again,” he said. “And more radiation. But truthfully, it won’t buy you much time. You’ll have to stop nursing Grace, too.”
“Forget it. I’m not doing anything more. I want to nurse Grace as long as I’m alive.”
“Wait, what are you saying?” Ryan cried.
Caroline grabbed his hands. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “I’m dying, Ryan. I don’t want to be tortured with more treatments that won’t work.”
Ryan looked at the doctor for confirmation.
“She’s right, Ryan. You remember what it was like for Caroline, how sick she was, not being able to eat, exhausted all the time.”
“I just can’t do it again,” she said. “I want to be with my baby as much as I can.”
They returned home, numb. The days that followed were heartbreaking, watching her failing, trying to take care of the baby. In shock, Ryan wanted to pretend it wasn’t happening, but Caroline wouldn’t allow it.
“We have to discuss the end, Ryan. I know you don’t want to, but it’s coming fast, and I have things I want to say to you if you’ll just listen.”
Watching her exposing her breast as Grace rooted around for a meal, he knew he was being selfish by not wanting to talk about Caroline dying. It seemed like such a contradiction. How could this vibrant, beautiful woman with a baby suckling at her breast be dying?
