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“What happened?” She swallowed, not sure she really wanted to know.
The pregnancy was going so well. She’d managed to gain a few pounds despite horrific morning sickness, taking a leave of absence from her job teaching history at the university had allowed plenty of time to sleep and exercise and managing stress, and every day that passed gave her courage to believe that finally…
Finally.
They’d been through so much. Years of trying, succeeding, and then losing the baby. Babies. Skye was their last chance to have a child of their own. Their marriage couldn’t take the stress of another loss and then another round of trying to conceive.
Dr. Kettner approached the foot of the hospital bed, concern etched into the creases bracketing his eyes and mouth. “Ben brought you in to the ER after you fell and hit your head. It turns out you had multiple seizures. We’ve given you steroids to prevent any more.”
“I’ve never heard of pregnancy causing seizures,” she said, gaze jumping from Dr. Kettner to Ben, desperate for some kind of encouragement.
“Do you remember anything?” Ben asked. His voice was cautious; his eyes, usually a dark coffee brown, were nearly black.
She hated that look. He’d worn it every time a pregnancy test was negative and every time she failed to remain pregnant. What came next was pity. And detachment. Like he didn’t want to be part of trying anymore. Like he was ready to walk away and find a woman who could give him a child.
Unable to speak, she shook her head.
“You need additional testing,” Dr. Kettner said, “but the scan they did last night when you came in shows…something.”
“In my brain?” she asked, disbelief overriding all other emotions.
“Yes.” The doctor’s one-syllable response was grim.
“Like a tumor?”
“Probably.”
“No.” She groped blindly for Ben’s hand. “Not now. Now when we—” A sob stole the rest of the words.
Ben laced his fingers through hers and guided their hands to her baby bump.
“Until we know what we’re dealing with, you need to follow the doctor’s orders and take care of yourself and the baby,” her husband said. “It’ll be okay.”
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.” Weeping softly, she slipped her hand from his, turned on her side, and cradled her belly.
* * *
Five dayslater
“Tellme the doctor’s name again.” Gripping Ben’s hand in a death grip, Jules tried to read the tiny script on one of the diplomas adorning the neurologist’s office. She’d written down the doctor’s name and Ben had repeated it four or five times already, but she couldn’t recall what it was.
That wasn’t the only thing she had trouble remembering. She struggled to name common objects like a plate or towel or piece of fruit and sometimes couldn’t read words on a page.. Ben patiently answered questions she asked repeatedly and helped when she forgot how to complete a simple task like buttoning her shirt or brewing a cup of coffee using the Keurig machine. It had been going on for months. How had they not realized it was something more than pregnancy brain fog?
“It’s because of the tumor. Dr. Navi says it’s not permanent.” Ben had tried to reassure her, but Jules was more scared than she’d ever been in her entire life. Even more frightened than when she worried they’d never have a baby.
Skye was doing well. No longer able to drive herself, Ben had taken her to see the nurse practitioner twice since her discharge from the hospital. Not for any medical reason, but because she needed the assurance. Dr. Kettner popped into the exam room each time, detailing the baby’s progress because Jules CRS—couldn’t remember shit.
“Your baby has eyelashes now,” Dr. Kettner had said as the Doppler transducer pressed against her belly transmitted the rhythmic whoosh of the fetal heartbeat. “Do you think she’ll have your blue eyes or Ben’s brown eyes?”
Tears had leaked from the corner of her eyes and dribbled down into her ears as she lay on the exam table. The previous night, lying awake in the dark, she’d tried remembering the name of the diner where they had their first date, then the expression on Ben’s face when Dr. Kettner congratulated them on making it to six months.
Nothing. There was just dark nothingness when she tried to remember.
Setting the Doppler device aside, Dr. Kettner framed his hands around the fetus. “Ah, exactly where she’s supposed to be. Another week or so and she’ll be about fifteen inches and probably weigh between two and three pounds.”
Every minute of the pregnancy was precious, but would she remember any of them?
Dr. Navi, a short, dark-skinned man with rimless glasses and a brilliant white smile, hustled into the office, apologizing for his tardiness in a sing-song accent Jules found soothing.
