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“Maybe,” Gabe said. “We’ll talk about it.”
He looked over at me.
“We? I thought this was your decision.”
“It doesn’t have to be,” he said.
Gabe had been amazing about making sure I felt included in the pregnancy but sometimes I wasn’t sure where the lines were drawn—not just because of our agreement, but because of my own attachment to the babies.
“We can talk about it on the ride over to the clinic,” I said, finishing off my breakfast. “Speaking of which, I may need some help getting out of this bed.”
Both Gabe and Ava were on their feet in an instant.
I chuckled at how quickly they rushed to my aid. I just had to say the word, and they were there.
“Thanks, but I don’t think I’m heavy enough to need both of you to get me out. Not yet at least.”
But at the rate I was growing, it probably wouldn’t be long until that was a possibility.
* * *
During the scan,the tech muttered the word “Oh, ” and my heart dropped. She went silent as she slid the wand over my belly.
“What is it?” I asked.
“Once we finish with the scan, the doctor will come in and talk to you about the results.”
Those words sent a chill down my spine. I shared a look with Gabe, and he clearly picked up on it as well. He took my hand in his and gave it a firm squeeze, as if to let me know that we were in this together.
The tech finished up what she was doing and told me I could get cleaned up and dressed. My hands were shaking as I put my clothes back on.
“What is it? Do you think something is wrong with them?” I asked Gabe.
“I’m sure everything is fine, they may just need more testing or something since you’re carrying four babies.”
“Maybe,” I said. The tech’s “Oh” stuck with me though and I kept replaying that moment in my head over and over as we waited for the doctor to arrive.
When he stepped into the room, the look on his face didn’t make me feel much better.
“First of all, I want to ease your concerns. Your babies are fine. Three of them are perfectly healthy, no problems as far as we could tell,” he said. “But Baby B has what appears to be a small hole in his heart. Now before you panic, I will let you know that this is an issue we see fairly often, and most babies end up recovering. Some even close up on their own after birth, others may need surgery, but it’s a condition I feel confident that we can manage.”
It took a minute for the doctor’s words to click. Gabe once again took my hand in his, and his strength was enough to get us all through it. When I couldn’t find the words, he did.
“So you think our son will be fine?”
Our son. His words surprised me, but I didn’t have a chance to really think too long about them. One of the babies, a little boy, had a hole in his tiny heart. Might as well have been my own heart because it ached in my chest just thinking those words in my head.The doctor’s voice brought me back into the moment.
“I do, yes. Do either of you have a family history of heart problems?” the doctor asked.
I looked at Gabe. “None on my side,” he replied. “Thankfully, my family is actually really healthy, we don’t have any medical issues as far as I’m aware. Neither of my parents have any heart problems, not even high blood pressure or anything like that.”
“How about at birth?” the doctor asked.
“No,” Gabe answered. “My brothers and sister and I were all born healthy.”
When the doctor looked over at me I opened my mouth to answer, but quickly realized I had no answer. Nothing concrete at least. I knew nothing about my own birth. While I was sure most parents would inform their children of any major health concerns, I couldn’t be too sure with my mom, especially after our earlier conversation. I stared blankly at the doctor.
“I don’t know,” I said. “My parents have never talked to me about my own birth, and they’ve never told me if there’s anything genetic in my family.”
