Page 118 of I Wish You Were Mine

Swallowing the moon in my throat, I say, “Yes. Eight minutes apart. I think. I’ve been trying to keep track.”

“Good job, Dad. So, here’s what we’re going to do. I’ll give you a quick exam and perform an ultrasound so we can see what’s going on. Once we have that information, we’ll come up with a plan, okay?”

Not okay.

I am not fucking okay.

Somehow I manage to come up with a coherent question. “Is there anything you can give her for the pain?”

“No. Not yet, anyway. Let’s get this ultrasound done and go from there.”

The doctor quickly examines Maren. She’s not dilated, which is good. He says the bleeding looks minor—so far.

My heart thrums beneath my Adam’s apple as the doctor moves the wand over Maren’s belly for the ultrasound. The baby appears on the monitor. The sound of his or her heartbeat fills the room.

“Healthy heartbeat,” the doctor says. “No signs of distress that I can tell.”

Maren wipes her eyes. “That’s a relief.”

“I still want to keep you overnight for observation.” The doctor strips off his latex gloves. “With placenta previa, we worry these smaller bleeds can lead to a big bleed, in which case we’ll need to deliver the baby immediately.”

A big bleed, otherwise known as a hemorrhage. I’ve read about this. If not addressed within minutes of it happening, both mother and baby can die.

My stomach plunges into a bucket of ice water. “Can a twenty-five-week-old baby survive?” I ask.

I give the doctor credit. He looks me straight in the eye when he replies, “Yes. I’d put chances of survival right at fifty percent.”

Fifty percent. A flip of a coin.

Tears stream from Maren’s eyes. Normally I’d wipe them away. But I’m shaking so badly I don’t want to touch her.

I love this woman so much it hurts. The thought of losing her—watching her bleed out because of something I did?—

My heart slams into a wall of grief. I know this feeling. Very well.

And in response, I feel my guard going back up. I’m terrified, so I’m doing what I always do: I prepare for the worst by putting up my best defenses.

Because now that I’m faced with the very real possibility of losing the baby too, I realize how hard I’ve fallen for him or her. This pregnancy was unexpected. I freaked out when Maren told me about it. I thought I didn’t want more children.

But then Maren changed my mind. She opened my eyes to the possibility of creating a new family together. One with two parents and a sibling for my daughter. I didn’t realize how invested I’d become in building that family until right now.

Katie.She’d be devastated. HowwouldI explain the loss to her? I stayed strong for her once, the first time we lost a family member when her mom walked out. I don’t know if I can be strong a second time.

“Dad?” the doctor’s voice interrupts my thoughts. “You all right?”

I clear my throat. “I’m fine. Worried, of course. But I know we’re in good hands.”

“We’ll take good care of your wife and the baby.”

Wife. The word punctures my heart like an arrow. I should’ve made Maren my wife. The second I knew I loved her, I should’ve put a ring on her fucking finger.

Now I might never get that chance.

I’m spiraling. I know that. Watching the nurse fuss over Maren, hooking her up to an IV and some kind of heart rate or contraction monitor, I try to calm myself down. We’re in the hospital. If something bad happens, we’ll get the best care available. No one is going to die. Chances are, the contractions and bleeding will stop, and we’ll all walk out of here in the morning tired but healthy.

Hours pass. Or maybe minutes, I can’t tell. Nurses come in and out to check on Maren. Her cramping begins to dissipate. She closes her eyes. Her chest rises and falls evenly.

Just when I think she’s asleep, she says, “Tuck?”

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