CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Hamish: You’re very distracting
Olive: How so, Mr. Tyler? You haven’t seen me for 3 days.
Hamish: I need to work and I can’t stop thinking about you.
Olive: Mmm. I guess a picture would make things worse?
Hamish: Don’t tease me. You’re already driving me crazy.
Olive: I’ll just have to make it up to you on Friday night.
Hamish: I can’t wait! x
Grinning from our text message conversation, I place my phone down on my side table and fix myself a hot chocolate. Despite it being a hot and humid night, and my brain telling me I would much prefer an icy cold drink, my pregnancy cravings are insisting on hot chocolates. And lots of them. Lately I’ve been drinking three to four a day. It’s crazy! I don’t understand cravings at all. Oh, and cheese… I can’t get enough of it. My favourite is a vintage cheddar I found in the deli section at the store a few days ago. I’ve almost finished the entire 350 gram block already.
“Yoo-hoo, you home, chicky?”
“Kitchen,” I call back to Aubree. “You want a drink?”
“I’ll grab it.”
I take my plate of cheese and my large mug out into the lounge room. We decided to have a night in and watch a DVD I picked up the other day. How to Be Single. It looks super funny. Plus, Rebel Wilson is in it. Need I say more?
“I swear you’re going to be so constipated, Olive. That much cheese cannot be good for your bowels,” Aubree tells me through her laughter.
I sigh. “It’s a risk I’m willing to take.”
“Well, I’ve got M&M’s and Cheese Twisties. Oh, and microwave popcorn, too.”
“Yum.” I grab the remote. “Ready?”
She nods, and I hit play.
Girls’ nights in are the best.
Some days you get out of bed on the wrong side, and your straightener burns your hair, you spill coffee on your blouse, and your stiletto snaps on your walk to work, causing you to kiss the pavement and end up with three stitches in your chin. You know by nine a.m. your day is going to be shit.
Other days, you wake up feeling relaxed and confident that the day will go smooth. The sun shines bright, a soft breeze blows, and the Starbucks barista makes your hot chocolate just right, and even gives you a jumbo cookie for free as she smiles adoringly at your pregnant stomach.
The latter was how my day began, but as I stare intently at the screen in front of me, I realise things are about to turn really bad.
I move my probe around on my client’s stomach, attempting to gain a better angle.
“Bethany, I’ll get you to stand up and walk around a bit. See if we can get baby to move,” I say.
She’s twenty-four, newly married, and fourteen weeks pregnant.
I can’t find the heartbeat.
My own baby kicked and rolled inside me, a constant reminder I was carrying a healthy baby, and yet I was about to break Bethany’s heart.
“Okay, hop back up on the bed.” I squirt some more warm gel onto her stomach and move the probe around. I tap a few buttons on my state-of-the-art machine and zoom in further on the lemon-sized foetus.
Two arms. Two legs. Eyes. Nose. Lips. Ears. Perfectly formed. Just the right size.
I swallow the lump in my throat. No contractions of the heart muscle.
“Can you see the sex yet? My husband doesn’t want to know, but I do.” Bethany’s excited yet nervous tone breaks the silence in the room.
“Uh, it’s probably a little too early right now,” I say as I move the probe again, hoping to get a better angle. Hoping I finally see a tiny flutter in the chest area. “Just relax here for a moment. I’ll be back in five.”
I exit the room, softly closing the door behind me, and make my way three doors down to the office of Doctor Genevieve Dunn. I rap twice on the door before I hear her tell me to come in.
“Hi, Doctor, I have a client in room B, and I’m having trouble finding the heartbeat of the baby.”
She stands immediately and rounds the desk. “How far along is she?” she asks quietly as we walk toward my examination room.
“My measurements show fourteen weeks exactly.”
We enter the room and I give Bethany a gentle smile. “Bethany, this is Doctor Dunn. I just needed her assistance.”
“Hi, Bethany, nice to meet you. Just relax there for me.” Genevieve takes the probe and places it on Bethany’s lower abdomen. The grainy black and white image of her unmoving baby appears on the screen, and I watch as Genevieve attempts to find a heartbeat.
“Let’s try colour mapping,” Genevieve suggests softly. “If that doesn’t work, we could try transvaginal.” It’s a last-ditch effort. I know it. She knows it. And even though the inevitable is staring us in the face, we are both still determined to exhaust every possibility.
“Is everything okay?” Bethany asks. She’s starting to panic.
“We’re just having a little trouble gaining a clear picture of bub.” I try to give her a reassuring smile, but I fear I fail.
A few minutes pass and Genevieve’s shoulders slump as we both stare at the lifeless baby on the screen.
Turning toward me, Genevieve says, “Maybe you should go and call her doctor from my office.” She glances at my stomach, and my hands immediately go there, cradling my child. Protecting. Shielding.
I know she’s thinking that hearing such devastating news from another pregnant woman might make things worse for Bethany, and I agree.
My heart aches for Bethany as I enter Genevieve’s office and make the call to Doctor Samuels, Bethany’s obstetrician.
Ten minutes later, Genevieve appears. Her eyes are glistening with unshed tears. In situations like these, it’s almost impossible to keep your emotions at bay.
“Is Bethany okay? Her husband’s at work, does she need someone to sit with her?” I ramble.
“She’s still in the examination room, waiting for her husband to arrive. They’ll go to the hospital together.”
I swallow, and then blow out a heavy breath. “God, this is awful.”
“Devastating,” Genevieve agrees on a whisper. “I have a patient waiting and a meeting scheduled, so could you check in on her please?”
“Of course.”
My heart feels like it’s in my throat as I push open the door and step inside the darkened room. Bethany sits on the end of the bed, her head hung, her arms cradling her stomach. Her shoulders are shaking and soft sniffles fill the room.
“Bethany, it’s Olive. May I come in?”
She makes an unintelligible sound, but nods her head imperceptibly. I enter and move the chair from the corner until it is closer to her. Then I sit down.
“Can I get you anything? A glass of water maybe?”
“No,” she croaks.
“I’ve contacted Doctor Samuels, and he’ll meet you at the hospital when you’re ready.”
“Why did this happen?” she whispers. “I would’ve been a good mum.”
“I don’t doubt that for a second, Bethany. I think you’ll make a fantastic mother. I’m sorry you’re going through this,” I reply softly. I have no idea what to say. I give her knee a squeeze. We sit in silence for a while longer, until the door opens behind me, casting a light into the room.
A tall man with distraught eyes rushes in and sweeps Bethany into his arms.
“Husband,” Genevieve mouths.
I nod, and we quietly leave the room.
The rest of the afternoon passes by quickly, overshadowed by the ache in my heart and constant thoughts of Bethany. She will be induced at the hospital across the road, and will then have to give birth to her tiny, lifeless baby. My only hope is that she is surrounded by people who will love and support her and that those people will carry her through this awful time.
“Olive, any chance you’ve got an answer for me regarding the Pine Creek clinic position?” Eligh asks as he falls into step beside me.
“Uh, yeah, sorry,” I ramble, willing my brain to catch up with the conversation. I was so immersed in my thoughts about Bethany that it takes me a second to concentrate. I stop walking and face Eligh. “Yes, I’d love the position. Thank you for thinking of me and organising this. I appreciate it.”
“My pleasure.” He checks his watch. “Why don’t you stop by my office in the morning before you begin seeing patients. We’ll go over the finer details.”
“Thanks, Eligh.”
I exit and walk through the parking garage. The second I’m alone inside my car, I pull out my phone.