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“You can sleep, Poppy. I’ll be right here.” I squeeze her hand.
“Where’s Lena?” She smacks her lips.
I bring the cup of water with a paper straw to her lips and she sucks down some water. “She’s with your mom. She’s fine. You and I are going to stay here tonight.”
She nods and dozes off. I brush her blonde hair from her face. She’s angelic. I’m so relieved she’s going to be okay. I resolve to do everything in my power to help her recover. Then I’m marrying her. And if she still wants a baby? Well, we’re going to have a hell of a time making one.
Alex wakes up again a couple hours later when Dr. Madison comes back to check on her. She’s fairly alert and clearly starting to feel the effects of the procedure. A nurse hands her a miniature cup with a pill in it and a glass of water.
“We were in surgery for about five hours, Alex.” The doctor taps her clipboard annoyingly as she explains the procedure in greater detail. “I’m prescribing pain medication to get you through the next few days. Then you can switch back to Tylenol or Advil until you’re healed. What’s most important is to rest and avoid excess strain on your abdomen. That means no lifting, pushing, or pulling heavy objects, or riding horses for at least six weeks.”
“I’ll make sure of it.” I wring my hands and then shake them out. Knowing Alex, she’ll try to be back up and running by the weekend.
Alex’s eyes begin to drift shut again. Someone wheels a cot into the room for me to sleep on. It’s not even seven p.m. and I’m exhausted. And starving. Who knew what an emotional strain it would be to sit around all day while the love of your life went through surgery.
“Go get something to eat and call Lena before her bedtime.” Alex’s voice is faint but decisive. “I don’t want her to see me in the hospital.”
“I will. Then I’ll come back here and sleep by your side tonight.” I pet her head. She nods and makes a shooing motion toward the door.
As hard as it is for me to leave, even for a little bit, I realize that Alex needs a little time on her own. She’s clearly equally parts grateful and annoyed at my hovering.
So I do as she requests.
I read my daughter a bedtime story on FaceTime. Then devour a spicy noodle dish at a Thai restaurant across the street from the clinic. An hour later, I crawl into the cot, and watch her peacefully sleep.
As I drift off, I feel so incredibly lucky.
And grateful.
It’s been an incredibly scary day.
Now, everything’s going to be okay.
Ishould feel grateful.
And I do…
It’s just I’m also incredibly sad. I hate feeling this way, but my emotions are all over the place. Dr. Madison told me that it was normal to mourn the loss of body parts. Important parts I took for granted my entire life.
God, how cavalier I was when I was younger. To me, the idea I had full control over my ability to reproduce was a foregone conclusion.
I cringe thinking about some of my first conversations with Jace. Like when I casually tossed out the idea of getting my tubes tied so I could have sex without getting pregnant. The way I reacted when I thought I was knocked up after that sex-crazed summer in Europe.
Gawd, I cried with relief when the test was negative. Then broke up with him in the next breath.
No wonder Jace was so hurt. No wonder he’s been so skeptical of my desire to get pregnant now.
I’m not a woo-woo girl. I know my words and actions didn’t cause the endometriosis. Or the fact I lost an ovary and fallopian tube. Why then is there an aggravating little voice inside my head that taunts me?
You manifested this.
I push the thought away and sigh. It’s no secret I’m struggling both mentally and physically from what turned out to be major surgery. My jaw clenches just thinking about how long I’m going to be out of commission. It sucks. I can’t even sit up due to the stabbing pain in my abdomen. Even still, I’m determined to get through as fast as possible. Like religiously following my post-op instructions. Making Jace help me walk to the bathroom and back because Dr. Madison told me moving would help me heal faster.
“Are you up?” My mom peeks into my room. “I’ve made breakfast.”
My appetite hasn’t quite returned yet, but the greasy smell of bacon and eggs is appealing. “I’ll try and eat. Thanks momikins.” She sets a tray on the nightstand and feeds me delicious bites until I’m full.
Mom kisses my temple. “How’s the pain?”
