Karma Kameleon. Stephanie Haefner

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СКАЧАТЬ a cab, my underwear was soaked through. With blood. Intense cramping continued to hammer at my abdomen, in waves, like labor.

      Forty-five minutes later, we sat in the ER exam room waiting for the on-call obstetrician to come in. But my pains had slowed considerably. That had to be a good thing, right?

      A stout man with graying hair came in, followed by a woman wheeling a machine. I recognized it immediately–an ultrasound machine.

      He didn’t say much, aside from “Hello. I’m Dr. Leiman,” and after sticking his hand inside me, asked if it hurt when he pressed on my stomach. It didn’t.

      The ultrasound tech lubed the wand and inserted it. She moved it around and fiddled with the machine, and I struggled to interpret the grainy screen. It was dark and blank and silent. I didn’t hear the whump whump whump of a baby’s heartbeat. Maybe this ultrasound machine didn’t have sound.

      The doctor turned to me. “I’m sorry Ms. Marshall. You’ve lost your baby.”

      “No, that can’t be right. The pains have weakened. I feel better now.”

      “I think you’re through the worst of it.” He turned to the screen and pointed to a gray blob. “See this here?”

      I nodded.

      “That’s most likely the fetus. But there’s no heartbeat.”

      I strained my eyes, praying for something on the screen to move or blink or do something so this nightmare would end.

      “You’ll continue to bleed for at least a week, maybe longer. And you’ll most likely expel some clots.”

      Rich squeezed my hand so hard I thought he might break it.

      The doctor removed his gloves. “We might need to wait a few days, but I don’t see the need for a D and C.”

      “What’s that?” I wasn’t all up on the miscarriage lingo.

      “It stands for dilation and curettage. Basically, if the tissue isn’t expelled, we need to go in and scrape your uterus.”

      “Oh.” It sounded horrific.

      “You said you were only eight to nine weeks. That’s very early in a pregnancy. We’ll do a blood test to check your HCG levels, but I want you to follow up with your OB. They’ll probably do more bloodwork to make sure the levels are decreasing like they should be. Take it easy a few days.” He stood and fidgeted with his white coat–his name embroidered in blue across the left side. “Do you have any questions?”

      I shook my head. I couldn’t form even one cohesive thought. My body and brain were shutting down. Even my tear ducts had stopped working. Complete numbness had taken over and it wouldn’t even allow me to cry.

      “Why did this happen?” Rich asked. His voice was strained, the way someone sounded when they were trying to talk and hold back sobs at the same time. The sight of his water-logged eyes jolted mine into perfect working order.

      “I wish I had an answer,” the doctor said. “Most likely a genetic abnormality. Sometimes these things just happen. But many women go on to have healthy pregnancies after a miscarriage.”

      He left, with the ultrasound tech right behind, and the room became eerily silent. How could an ER exam room be this crypt-like? On TV there was always some kind of drama, someone running around and breaking the silence.

      Rich pulled the chair to the bed and sat down, laying his head on my lap. I stroked his hair as he cried, feeling utterly helpless. Tears cascaded down my own cheeks, but I felt the need to try and be strong. I couldn’t let myself break into a million pieces.

      “It’s my fault,” he said through his misery, his body shaking.

      “What? You heard the doctor. It’s nobody’s fault.”

      He looked up at me. “We shouldn’t have had sex last night. I should have stopped.”

      “Sex doesn’t cause miscarriages.”

      “How do you know? What if I went in too deep?”

      I really didn’t know.

      “I’m so sorry, Lexi.”

      I pulled him to me and we cried together.

      “I loved our baby so much.”

      * * * *

      While we waited for the blood test results, I called Marcus. Thank God the party had ended and everyone had gone home. But not without asking a million questions as to my whereabouts.

      “Lex, I didn’t know what to tell everyone. What happened?”

      I struggled to find the words. “Um, the baby…”

      “Is everything okay?”

      “No.” My hand shook the phone against my ear and fresh tears trickled down my cheeks. “It’s gone.”

      “Oh, Lexi. I’m sorry. What can I do?”

      “Give Preston lots of kisses and tell him Mommy loves him. And please make sure he’s in bed before we get home. I don’t want him to see me like this.”

      “I will. I love you and we’re here for anything you need.”

      “I know. Thank you.”

      The phone beeped when I pressed End, a piercing sound in such a quiet room. Rich returned, having run to the cafeteria for some strong coffee. His eyes, while dry, still held their red hue and the puffiness from crying.

      “Nurse said the results should be back any minute, then we can get out of here.”

      He just nodded and my heart broke. I wanted to pull him to me and tell him everything was going to be okay, though I wasn’t sure I believed it myself. But as devastating as the loss of our baby was for me, it had to be so much more for him. I had Preston at home, a baby I could hug and kiss and snuggle. This would have been Rich’s first child–a baby who would only call him Daddy.

      The nurse came in with some paperwork. “Your blood work came back. The HCG level, which is the hormone produced during pregnancy, is lower than that of a normal healthy pregnancy. It should continue to decrease over the next few days until it’s at zero.” She gave a sympathetic smile. “I’m so sorry.”

      I stared at her puppy dog scrubs and the vision began to blur. I’d held onto a small spark of hope that maybe the OB had been wrong. The ultrasound machine had been broken. I wanted the nurse to tell me my levels were exactly where they should be for this stage of my pregnancy. But she didn’t. She just confirmed what we already knew.

      “I have your discharge papers here. You can leave whenever you feel up to it. No rush.”

      She left and we were alone again.

      Rich stood and tossed his empty Styrofoam cup into the trash. “We should get going.”

      “Yeah. Can you grab СКАЧАТЬ