Growing up, her dad had often teased Kushi for traveling at a snail’s pace in the car. Back then her mom had rarely driven beyond Dandenong, mainly to the market and school. But she’d obviously honed her road skills, because she made it to the hospital in under fifteen minutes, running a yellow light or two.
Kushi pulled up outside the ER. “Will you be okay to go in on your own while I park?”
“Thanks, Mom, I’ll be fine.”
Though she knew the lack of pain after the first two episodes meant nothing; the spotting was a possible indicator to something not being quite right.
“I’ll be back soon,” Kushi said, reaching across the console to squeeze her hand. “Be strong, my girl.”
Emotion clogged Samira’s throat as she forced a half smile before getting out of the car and walking slowly into the ER.
The next two hours flew by in a blur of questions and tests while she waited for the resident ob-gyn to arrive to perform the ultrasound that would provide conclusive evidence of her baby’s condition.
Having her mom bedside, holding her hand, offering soft words of encouragement, should’ve provided comfort. It didn’t, because she couldn’t shake the numbness, a purely defensive mechanism, her body’s way of shutting down her emotions so she wouldn’t sob her heart out if the news wasn’t good.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, a youngish woman entered the cubicle, wheeling an ultrasound machine beside her.
“Hi, Samira, I’m Dr. Englehart, and I’ll be performing your ultrasound today.”
The doc made it sound like a routine scan when they knew nothing could be further from the truth.
“Thanks,” Samira said, shooting a quick glance at her mom to find her staring at the doctor with wide, fearful eyes.
Samira believed in God, but she rarely attended church, yet in that moment, as the doctor lifted her robe, squeezed gel on her abdomen, and pressed the ultrasound head onto her, she sent yet another prayer heavenward, one of many in the last few hours.
“Your tests looked good, so let’s see what’s happening in here.”
The doctor moved the probe around, and Samira held her breath, her gaze riveted to the screen, searching for the small pulsing on the screen that would indicate her baby’s heartbeat.
She couldn’t see it, and her throat tightened with sorrow. Kushi clutched her hand so tight her grip bordered on painful, but it was nothing to the pain squeezing her heart at the thought of losing her baby.
“Ah . . . there we are.” The doctor pointed at the screen, and Samira exhaled in relief. “A strong heartbeat, exactly what we want to see.”
Samira’s gaze locked on her mom’s; tears leaked from their eyes simultaneously as the enormity of the ultrasound sunk in.
“Right, everything looks good here.” The doctor removed the ultrasound probe and handed her paper toweling to wipe the gel off her stomach. “But the spotting can be a concern, so please keep a close eye on it, and if you have any doubts, come back in straightaway.” She picked up Samira’s chart and flicked through it again. “After a scare like this, it’s pertinent to point out that because of your age there’s an increased risk for gestational diabetes and preeclampsia, so I’d like to keep a closer eye on your blood pressure, blood glucose levels, and urine for protein and sugar.”
Samira nodded, having already read up on “geriatric pregnancy” over the age of thirty-five. While the risk factors terrified her—stillbirth, chromosomal defects, low birth weight, prematurity, labor complications, as well as the diabetes and preeclampsia the doctor had mentioned—all she could feel right now was bone-deep relief that her precious baby was okay.
The doctor glanced at her watch. “I’d like to keep you in overnight, because as much as I don’t want to scare you, the risk of miscarrying after an incident like tonight’s is higher. So rest up, and I’ll check in with you in the morning.”
“Thanks,” Samira said, while Kushi added, “Thank you, Doctor.”
When Dr. Englehart left, Samira turned to her mother. “Mom, I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t been with me tonight, so I think now’s as good a time as any to tell you I’m moving back to Melbourne.”
A smile of pure joy spread across Kushi’s face. “That’s wonderful, betee. I’m so happy.”
“This little one needs his or her grandmother.” Samira placed a hand over her belly. “And I need my mom.”
This time, they shed tears of joy, and Samira knew she’d made the right decision, for all of them. Almost miscarrying clarified her plans like nothing else. She been terrified of losing this baby, and she couldn’t do this on her own.
Now, she had to break the news to Rory.
That was when it hit her. She hadn’t thought about him until now. For the last few hours, she’d been so focused on her baby, she hadn’t given a thought to the baby’s father and how he would feel if they lost their baby.
She had to call him. Tomorrow.
For now, she’d try to relax and get through the next twenty-four hours, focusing all her positive energy on ensuring this baby stayed put.
Thirty-Nine
You have to stop stalking me like this.”
The deep, familiar voice roused Samira from her doze, and she opened her eyes to find Manish grinning at her, looking dapper in his white coat and stethoscope draped around his neck.
“What are you doing here?”
She struggled into a sitting position and glanced around the room, looking for Kushi.
“I sent your mom to the cafeteria for something to eat. She looked pale and tired.”
“It’s been a long night.” She winced. “I had a miscarriage scare.”
His smile vanished as he nodded, grave. “I saw your notes. You came through the ER, and I always go through last night’s cases for handover.”
“Ah, right,” she said, feeling oddly comforted that she’d chosen the hospital where he worked to check in last night.
It hadn’t really registered at the time, but it had the best reputation in Melbourne, and it had seemed like the natural choice. In a way, she was glad he hadn’t been on duty in the ER last night, because that would’ve been too weird. Friendship and medical emergencies didn’t mix.
“You’re feeling okay?”
“Yeah, but only slightly less terrified than last night.”
He nodded. “We’re going to discharge you shortly, but come back if you’re worried at all.”
He laid a hand on her lower leg. “Or better yet, call me.”