Me: No plans. Why?
Grant: I’m coming over. I’m making you my mother’s famous pasta with arrabbiata. I’ll bring the groceries. ;)
Me: That sounds lovely. You bring the food, I’ll have the wine.
As soon as I hit SEND I realize my mistake. Shit! I can’t have wine.
Grant: Perfect. Now don’t stay up too late. Need you well-rested tomorrow . . . by the way, how are you feeling?
That familiar tingle is back in my lower belly.
Me: Not sure, doc. Might need a full exam tomorrow. ;)
Grant: I’ll be sure to do a VERY thorough exam. Have a good night.
Me: Night.
After my shower, I eat dinner on the couch watching back-to-back episodes of House Hunters until I drift off to sleep.
The sun streams through my front blinds that I forgot to close the night before. I glance around, taking a moment to register that I slept on the couch all night. I must have really been tired. I sit up, stretching my arms overhead, when I feel a sharp pain in my lower belly.
“Ouch!” I drop my arms, covering my stomach as I stand to get some water. The pain subsides into a dull achy cramp as I move around the kitchen. I rub my belly again, a small flutter of panic at the pain, but I tell myself I’m overreacting and that I should just call the doctor once they’re open.
I walk to the bathroom, turning on the water to let it warm up. I yawn, staring at my reflection as I pull my shirt over my head, followed my shorts and underwear. I kick them to the side and open the shower door, stepping inside as the warm water runs over my shoulders. I let my head loll forward, closing my eyes as I breathe in the steam.
I open my eyes—about to turn to grab the shampoo—when I notice the water at my feet has a pinkish hue. It doesn’t register for a second before panic grips me and I look at my thighs, where a bright-red stream is running down my leg and onto the shower floor.
The next few hours are a complete blur. I don’t even remember driving to the doctor, but as I lie on my back, the doctor’s expression goes from puzzled to dread, and I already know what the words will be before he says them.
“There’s no detectable heartbeat.”
Tears fall from the corners my eyes—down my cheeks and onto the paper beneath me. I stare up at the ceiling, my heart shattering into a million little pieces. How did I go from finding out I was pregnant to losing my baby all within 48 hours? Images of those tiny onesies I was looking at yesterday flash through my brain and my entire body begins to shake as a sob tears through my chest. In this moment, I understand what people mean when they speak of inconsolable loss.
12
Grant
I juggle the bag of groceries, moving it to my hip as I reach for Leigh’s door handle. I turn it, but it’s locked. I knock on the door.
“Leigh? It’s Grant.”
I knock a second time, reaching into my pocket to pull out my phone. I double-check to see if I missed a text or call from her, but there’s nothing. I’d meant to send her a text when I was leaving the hospital, but I was already running late and still had to swing by the grocery store.
“Leigh!” I shout, trying not to let my irritation boil over into actual anger at the fact that she’s blowing me off again. I turn to walk back down the stairs when I hear the click of the lock on her door before it slowly opens just a few inches.
“Hey, you are ho—” I stop when I see her red, swollen face.
“Leigh, sweetheart, what’s wrong?” I gasp, putting my hand on the door and pushing it open to step inside. Her lip quivers and she shakes her head as she bursts into tears. I place the bag on the floor, reaching out and pulling her to me.
“Come here,” I say as I wrap my arms around her shaking body. She crumples against me, her sobs echoing through the room like a wounded animal.
“Leigh, what happened? What’s going on?”
I pull her off me so I can look in her eyes, but it’s no use. She’s shaking her head, snot and tears running down her face as she chokes on her own sobs.
“Th-the—I lost the . . .” she stutters, and I pull her back against me.
“Shhh, it’s okay, it’s okay. Whatever it is, it can wait. I’m not leaving.” I walk her over to the couch, holding her against me as we sink down into it.
I’m at a loss. I rub her back, whispering over and over to her that whatever it is, she’s going to be okay. Worry inches its way up my throat, churning my stomach, but I push it down. Now isn’t the time to get scared. She needs me to be her rock.
We lie together for what feels like hours—and it very well could be since I don’t know what time it is. Her sobs eventually subside, replaced by heavy breathing. I glance down, trying not to move, and see that her eyes are closed, her lips are slightly parted, and she’s drifted off to sleep on my chest. I lean my head down, softly kissing her hair before closing my own eyes and leaning back against the couch, allowing sleep to take me too.
My eyes open and I blink a few times in the darkness trying to remember where I am. I look down my body just as Leigh moves to sit up.
“Hey,” I whisper, reaching out to cup her face. Her tears have finally dried, but her face is still puffy and swollen, a line running across one cheek where she was pressed against my shirt.
“Hi,” she whispers back.
We both sit in silence for several moments before she speaks again.
“I’m sorry,” she mutters, her lower lip beginning to quiver again.
“Shh, no, you don’t owe me an apology for anything. We don’t need to talk about it right now,” I say, pushing her matted hair out of her face.
“No, we do.” She stands up and walks over to the fridge to grab us both a bottle of water.
I spin my body around and plant my feet on the couch as she returns and sits next to me. The nervousness starts bubbling up again. She takes a sip of water, placing the bottle on the coffee table as she begins to fidget with the lid, her leg bouncing up and down erratically. I reach out, grabbing her hand.
“Hey, whatever it is, you can tell me.”
She nods her head and looks over at me, her eyes so full of sadness.
“I—I was pregnant.”
“Wha—uh, when?” I’m so confused.
“Now. Yesterday. I just found out Friday night. I missed my period after we . . . the first time, so I took a test and it was positive. I went to the doctor and he said I was se—” Her lips starts to quiver again and a stray tear tumbles down her cheek. She sniffs and wipes it away, letting out a shaky breath. “I was seven weeks and things were fine, but just a few hours later, I took a shower and there was blood and, and . . .” The sobs take over her body again and I pull her in for a hug.
“I’m so sorry, Leigh.” I rub her back and her words are still sinking in. I’m so confused. The baby was mine? I have a million questions but now isn’t the time.
“I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you as soon as I found out.” She shakes her head, more tears flowing down her red cheeks.
“I told myself that after my doctor’s appointment yesterday, I would tell you when you came over tonight, but I didn’t get the chance.” Her words are broken as she cries. “I lost the baby.”