Page 118 of Sugar & Shadows

The room went completely silent except for the whooshing sound of the baby’s heartbeat on the ultrasound.

I closed my eyes, praying that everything would be okay.

“You will feel a strong tug.”

A sharp sting spread low through my abdomen.

And a moment later, she put the IUD into the metal pan with a plink.

“Okay. The device is out. Let’s check the baby.”

The nurse manipulated the ultrasound wand so that we could see the sac again, and eventually, after what felt like hours, the flickering heartbeat.

“Heartbeat looks good,” she said.

“Excellent,” Dr. Moss confirmed. “Very strong.”

I exhaled, and my head rushed. Shit. I’d been holding my breath for far too long. I put my head back against the table, staring at the ceiling as my brain tried to tell my nervous system that it was all okay. It was over.

But my heart still raced and my hands shook; I was still so damn scared.

“Remember,” Dr. Moss said, stripping off her latex gloves. “Rest for twenty-four hours and call me if you experience anything other than mild cramping or light spotting. The heartbeat is great, the gestational sac is in perfect position. Just take care of yourself.”

“We will. Thank you,” Gabe said, speaking when I could not.

“And while this pregnancy does come with a higher risk for miscarriage than average, many patients go on to deliver healthy babies after removal.”

My stomach couldn’t drop any farther. Higher risk?

My entire career had revolved around eliminating risk. I’d created an identity set around controlling outcomes and preventing damage.

Now I had to spend the next thirty-one weeks just hoping that everything was okay? There was no strategy for this. No game plan. No regimen of prenatal vitamins, green juice, or meditation that would fix this. I’d just have to wing it.

I was the queen of crisis. But I was already falling apart. And that terrified me more than any medical complication.

“Congratulations.” Smiling, she stepped out of the room.

When we were alone, Gabe looked down at me, smiling wide, his eyes still teary.

“That was the most amazing thing I’ve ever experienced.” He sniffled. “That heartbeat? You weren’t lying. Strong.” With a shuddering breath, he squeezed my hand. “Thank you for letting me be here.”

He was so handsome, even when his face was tearstained. But it took everything I had to force a smile. He looked so overwhelmed with joy, but wasn’t he terrified too?

On the way home, I reclined the seat a little and closed my eyes, attempting to process. He, on the other hand, chattered all the way back to Maplewood, going on about the maple cams, the recall, and a new tubing supplier for the farm.

“I don’t want you alone tonight,” he said. “We’ve got to keep an eye out for fever or heavy bleeding.”

“I’m not alone. I’m staying at my mom’s.”

“Can I stay too?”

Breath catching, I turned to him.

“On the couch,” he clarified. “I don’t want to intrude. I just…” He tightened his grip on the steering wheel. “I’d feel better being there. In case you need something. Or in case something feels wrong.”

My instinct was to tell him to go to hell. But I had a feeling my mother would tsk at me if I did.

The cat was out of the bag at this point, so there was no use hiding. And while I was technically capable of both self-reflection and honesty, those skills were just out of reach at the moment. The idea of being alone after this, of worrying and waiting for something terrible, was unbearable.