On the Plus Side

Page 78

It wasn’t supposed to be happening for me. All the specialists I had gone to when I was younger swore it would never happen. In my mind something was wrong and if something wasn’t wrong, something would be. I couldn’t have been that lucky.
I tried not to think about it until after my appointment. There was no need to get my hopes up or make Devin crazy for no reason. He’d hate me. I’d promised him that it was impossible. We’d had unprotected sex because conceiving wasn’t something that would ever happen for me and yet, there was a little pink line on a stick that said it had.
Later that night Devin came over and we lounged in bed and watched TV. He attempted conversation with me so many times, but I didn’t feel like talking.
“Are you feeling OK, baby? You’ve been quiet all night and you barely touched your dinner. Are you still having stomach problems?”
“Something like that,” I responded.
“You can talk to me about anything, you know?” He smiled down at me.
“I know. I’m really OK.”
I wanted to tell him so badly. I wanted him to hold me and tell me that everything would be alright, but a tiny voice in the back of my head kept repeating that I could never have a baby. My body couldn’t and if I was really pregnant, I’d lose it. Devin had entirely too much going on in his life, I didn’t want to add that to the list.
On appointment day I lied about having to work. It was something I wanted to do alone. I sat in the waiting room and did something I never did, I bit my nails. When the nurse called me back I got a bad case of anxiety. Something deep down was telling me that the doctor would have bad news.
When Dr. Dandridge came into the small examination room I was sitting on the exam table in a paper gown. My fingers were starting to hurt from squeezing them together so hard and even though the room was warm, I felt like I was freezing all over.
“Long time no see, kiddo,” Dr. D said with a big white smile.
I had started seeing him when I was younger, right after the big traumatic teenage mob attack. He was the only doctor that I went to that didn’t make me feel like I’d die within the hour if I didn’t suddenly lose fifty pounds. I always felt very comfortable with him.
He was a younger doctor and very friendly—tall and skinny with big, blue eyes and salt and pepper hair. Shannon came with me on my last appointment and she’d had a crush on him ever since.
“So, what’s new?” he said as he tapped his pen against his clipboard.
“Um, I haven’t had a period in three months. I took a pregnancy test and it was positive. I’m kind of thinking there might be something wrong.” I nervously cracked my knuckles.
“Hmmm, well, let’s have a look and see what’s going on, shall we?” He continued to smile, but I could see a small hint of worry in his eyes.
He knew my situation. He knew that a baby wasn’t a possibility.
He did a vaginal exam first. I kept peeking down at him and every now and again I’d catch the perplexed look on his face.
Something was definitely wrong.
“Well, Lilly, your cervix is definitely different.”
What the hell did that mean? Was that bad? Was my cervix covered in cancer and I’d be dead in ten hours? The Facts man! I needed facts! I had stuff to take care of. I had to make sure Devin and his family were a part of my will and I needed to say my goodbyes.
I was in the throes of a very massive panic attack and he was leaning back like he was on a Caribbean cruise. All he needed was a fruity drink with a freaking umbrella sticking out of it and a pair of sunglasses.
He pulled down my paper gown to cover me and then he rolled back on his stool and removed his plastic gloves.
“Let’s do an ultrasound,” he said as he rolled over a large piece of machinery with a tiny TV screen on the front.
He covered the bottom of me with another sheet before pulling my paper gown over to reveal my chubby stomach.
The clear jelly he squirted on my stomach felt warm and then he was gliding a little white wand over the surface.
The black and white screen lit up with a fuzzy picture. It looked like the screen that popped up when you forgot to pay your cable bill. There was nothing there, just a mass of black reminding me that my stomach would never house a child and then, there it was.
The profile of a baby—it’s overly large head and tiny nose. Two arms and two legs sprung from its tiny center. It was hard to make it out on the screen, but it was definitely a baby.
I looked away from the screen and down to my stomach as if I needed to make sure that these pictures were definitely coming from me and that he didn’t sneak and stick the little wand on another patient who had accidently walked into the wrong room.