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She gives me a bit of a funny look, her smile turning more brittle than sweet, and gestures me to follow her. Of course, I have to get on a scale immediately, and I spin my finger in a circle to make Braeden turn around. Just because he's my bestie doesn't mean he gets to see what it says when I get on it.
As soon as that's recorded in the chart, the nurse leads us to a small exam room. It's not the most up-to-date, but it's clean and functional.
The nurse asks the usual questions, then some more pointed ones about my issues, and when she's done recording all of them, takes my vital signs. As soon as she finishes she excuses herself, letting me know the doctor will be in shortly.
I'm too nervous to even attempt to talk to Brade, and he doesn't try either. We wait in silence, him in the chair, me sitting up on the exam table. The nurse hadn't asked me to get undressed, probably because I'm still bleeding, so at least I don't think I'll have to put my feet in the little stirrups in front of him. It's not like he hasn't seen it before, but this situation is entirely different, and— I'm not thinking about this now.
Thankfully, I'm distracted by a tap at the door, followed by the doctor opening it. When she comes through it, I'm immediately at ease with her friendly open expression— it also doesn't hurt that she's old enough to be my mother were she still alive.
"Hello there, Mary. I'm Doctor Melba. Like the toast." Her little joke, obviously well-practiced, still gets a small smile out of me. "Now, I see here that you think you are having a miscarriage?" I nod at her, and she continues speaking as she reads the chart in her hand. "Do you think it could be a side effect from the PBC treatment? The bleeding, I mean, since you haven't passed anything? It says here you've been on immunosuppressant therapy." She looks up from the paper, awaiting my answer.
Fingers crossed, I pray I don't fuck this up. "I'm not sure as it's a more recent diagnosis, and my periods are never quite regular, especially with my birth control. Which in this case obviously didn't work." A self-deprecating huff of laughter escapes me at my awkward delivery.
The doctor nods her head though and asks me to lay back with my knees up. She presses around my abdomen, asking me if I have any tenderness and the usual things, but gets a frown on her face as she pushes hard and rubs in small circles right above my pubic bone. I jolt somewhat, feeling like she just stuck her hand in my bladder, but she assures me that it's normal.
When she's done poking around, she voices her concerns. "Mary, are you sure that you are that far along? Normally, by now, I should be able to physically feel your abdomen distended, but if the amniotic sac hasn't broken— then I'm not sure that your dates are correct."
I'm confused but answer her questions after a quick calculation in my head and a glance at Brade to confirm my numbers. "No, it's definitely over three months since the last time I had intercourse." Brade nods his head, and the doctor looks at him for a moment, then back at me.
Quietly asks, "Would you be more comfortable continuing this in private?"
Shaking my head, I reassure her. "He's not my ex, but because of my diagnosis we've refrained from any sexual activity since the date I gave you." My explanation seems to mollify her, and she excuses herself to get a portable ultrasound machine.
At this point, Braeden looks concerned too. "Birdie, you're sure that it said positive, right?" Well, that's annoying.
"Yes, big, buff, and beautiful, I know how to read a pregnancy test. It's not that difficult. You either have a plus, a minus, two lines, one line, words... okay, so maybe it's different with all of them, but each one has its own directions, and I followed them. The one that I took is in my bag back at the cabin if you want to look at it."
A burst of laughter escapes him. "You hid it at the cabin? How the heck did you smuggle that in without me noticing?"
I mumble, "I stuck it in my bra." Which of course gets him going again. At least one of us is finding it amusing. That thing has been the bane of my existence for days.
Anything else he might have said is interrupted by the doctor bumping the door open with her bottom. She wheels in a monitor with wands on twisty cords attached to it, and Braeden jumps up to assist her with the door, for which she thanks him.
"Alright, Mary. Let's get the goo on you. It's going to be a bit of cold, and then we'll see what's going on in there. Normally, I would do another pregnancy test, but it would be hard to get a clean catch with you still bleeding. The only other methods are more invasive, and with your medication, I don't want to chance introducing any bacteria into your system.”
She's right; the blue gel is cold when it goes on my still flat stomach, and when she applies the little rectangular wand, pressing down firmly, a faint heartbeat can be heard. At my clear astonishment, she quickly explains that that's my own heartbeat echoing that I'm hearing. My hopes flounder after the sound had slightly gotten them up, but it obviously isn't meant to be at this time. I'm not sure how to feel about that, but I have to shelve it for now because she explains that there is absolutely nothing in my uterus. Disappointment engulfs me at the finality of her statement.
"I'm not seeing anything here to indicate that you are, or were, ever pregnant." I'm in shock, and from his slack face, so is Braeden. Maybe he wasn't so wrong to think I couldn't read a simple pregnancy test.
She goes over my other medications, and I realize that she hasn't mentioned anything about my anxiety pills. I almost give her the prescription bottle out of my purse, because I can never remember the name of them, before I remember that the name on my chart won't match what is on the bottle. Instead, I ask Braeden what the name of it is, and he tells her after I nudge him with my foot to get his attention.
Her face lights up with recognition as she tells me that I probably confused the home pregnancy test because that medication is known to cause false positives. As she wipes the gel off of my skin, she directs me to, in the future, take a second or even third test several days apart.
She also tells me that I should check with my regular doctor about taking that medication, along with my others. I quickly thank her to direct her off of that train of thought so I don't accidentally slip up or give something away. She obviously already knows that something's not on the up-and-up with the way we made the appointment, and I don't want to take advantage of her generosity.
Braeden and I quickly head back out to the reception room and pay for the appointment using cash that Marcus had given him before we left the cabin.
Being too nervous that I might mess up while I was in the exam room, it's now sinking in that I was never pregnant to begin with. I feel horribly embarrassed for everything that's gone on during my stay at the cabin because of it. A lot of drama could have been avoided, as well as heartache. I'm not sure how to tell the others and turn to Braeden, full of misery.
He gives me a supportive hug and a kiss on the top of the head. "It's not your fault, Birdie. We literally interrupted you in the middle of taking a test, and not one of us thought to get a second one. I'm just glad you're not having to actually go through a miscarriage or need a procedure to clear out anything that might have gotten stuck inside. I promise, one day you'll have normal, or as normal as you want. And a baby if you want one too."
I squeeze my bestie tight— he's always there. Even if he has some hidden rough edges, he almost always knows what to say to cheer me up. I want to ask him how he really feels about it— sometimes I wish he would think about himself too. There isn't an opportunity though, because Emmett is beckoning us from his vantage point on the side of the building. Sighing, I tuck my questions away for when we get home.
We're in the vehicle again, headed back to the cabin. Emmett had all but shoved us in and barely slammed the door shut before Marcus took off, and now I'm demanding to know what's going on.
"Did Robert find out?" My voice is high-pitched with anxiety, and I haven't even shared what we found out yet.
Rex answers me, extremely pissed. "Seems that someone here thought to use needing the bathroom as an excuse to go in and flirt with the office staff to get the use of a phone. He contacted not only Robert but also mine and Emmett's boss."
