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“There is a small risk of miscarriage, but I think the test will be beneficial. I don’t want you to worry about anything, though. The specialist I’m sending you to is excellent, and we’ll wait until you’re at fifteen weeks for this. Try not to stress. You’ll be in good hands.” The doc’s voice was calm and soothing, but it didn’t matter. Everything she said grated on my frayed nerves. “Does your family have a history of congenital disabilities? There was quite a bit missing in your patient history.”
“I don’t know. I’ll have to talk to my parents and the baby’s dad.” Whether I wanted to or not, I had to. I would do anything to protect my baby.
I felt so helpless. I didn’t know what questions to ask. The thought of something being wrong was terrifying, and I was already so in love with the baby that it felt like my whole world was crashing down on me, and I had no one to help me keep it together.
“That’s a good idea. And I don’t want you to stress about this. The likelihood of a problem is minimal. We will do what’s best for you and the baby, no matter what. I don’t want you to worry, Aspen. It won’t hurt to have more information.” She made a few more entries then paused to look at me, a soft smile curving her face. “Do you want to listen to the baby’s heartbeat?”
“Yes.” I tensed, desperate for signs that the little peanut was doing okay.
The doc turned up the volume, and a fast staccato filled the room. Tears leaked from the corners of my eyes, and I didn’t try to stop them. Then she turned the screen to face me and pointed out the baby, who really did look like an alien. I was fascinated and couldn’t tear my eyes from the screen. She pressed a few more buttons, and a printer whirled to life.
Then she handed me the black-and-white images, and I clung to them like the lifeline they were.Everything is going to be all right. I promise, little angel.
The rest of the appointment was a blur. At the reception desk, I made an appointment with the specialist for the amniocentesis and learned I would receive a call with instructions. There had been a cancelation, and they’d managed to squeeze me in the following week.
I left the office on shaky legs. Rain thundered down as I reached the lobby. Thunder cracked overhead, lighting up the cloudy, gray sky. I pushed through the heavy doors and stood under the overhang, knowing I would get drenched in seconds, having forgotten an umbrella, but there was no other option. I stepped out, and cold rain pelted me as I raced for the parking lot. Seconds later, thunder boomed so loudly that I felt it in my bones, and the hairs on my arms stood from the charged air.
Soaked, I slammed my car door shut and shivered. I turned the key and breathed a sigh of relief as the engine turned over. I waited for the car to warm enough to blast hot air through the vents directed at me. The weather was intense. The wind pushed the rain diagonally, and ferocious pings knocked against my car. Visibility sucked, and I cranked the windshield wipers to high, very glad the distance to my dorm wasn’t too far.
I needed to call Mom, but that would have to wait. She wouldn’t be able to hear me over the storm. It was loud inside my car, and even the slightest driving distraction would be dangerous. As I carefully pulled into traffic, driving at an alarmingly slow pace, I couldn’t stop thinking about what Mom would say, if anything. She’d been supportive overall, but her disappointment was tangible. Dad was worse. We still weren’t on speaking terms, not really. Every time I called, he somehow managed to be busy or had to get off the phone after a question or two.
I didn’t think I’d ever felt so alone.
Mom’s sister, Aunt Sylvia, didn’t have any kids and lived in Australia. We had minimal contact with her aside from birthday cards. Dad came from a big family of six brothers and sisters. He was the baby, with a nine-year gap between the last one and him. None of them were close, and he rarely spoke to them. I doubted that either of them would know their full family history of congenital birth defects.
I made it home, parked, dashed into my dorm, grabbed my bathroom stuff from my room, and went straight into a hot shower. I didn’t think the day could get any worse. At least my roommate wasn’t there. I didn’t think I could handle pretending everything was okay.
I could call Max, but first, I needed to face Mom and Dad. In my warmest pajamas, I burrowed under a blanket and called them. My gut clenched and rolled with nerves that I suspected would be with me until the results of the amnio came in.
“Aspen.” Mom sounded breathless again. “Everything all right?”
“Yeah.” Sort of. “Are you good?”
“Just running in from the garage. It’s really coming down out there. How’s school going?”
“School’s easy. It’s the last thing on my mind lately.”
“Aspen.” She had that scolding tone.
I leaned back against the wall, tucking the pink comforter Regan had made for me tighter around me.
“School is the most important thing. You know I would have liked to finish. Don’t throw this opportunity away.”
I rolled my eyes. It was the same story and argument that had been shouted in our house for as long as I could remember. “I have all A’s. School isn’t a problem.”
“Oh. Well, that’s good.”
It hurt that she didn’t ask about the baby or how I felt, especially since she was supposed to go to the doctor with me. At the beginning, both of my parents had made it clear that they didn’t approve of the situation I’d found myself in and had even given me information for abortion clinics. I couldn’t lie and pretend that it hadn’t crossed my mind. And if I’d gotten pregnant in high school, I probably would have made that hard choice to end the pregnancy. But… I was old enough, and I already loved the baby. I’d made up my mind, even if no one else would help.
That wasn’t true. I knew my sister would. And Phoenix was committed to being there for the baby, even though I didn’t see a lot of follow-through beyond those envelopes of money. I guessed we would see later, which also worried me.
I chose to ignore her negativity. “Mom, do we have any family history of congenital disabilities?”
“No. Why are you asking?”
“The doctor wants to do an amniocentesis test, and she mentioned I should ask about our family history. Do you know about Dad’s side?”
“Please. Like that man shares anything with me? You’ll have to ask him.”
