An older woman in pink scrubs gloves up and then starts to explain to Violet about the internal ultrasound. I bristle when she rolls a condom on a scope attached to the machine beside Violet’s bed and then I hold my wife’s hand while she winces at the intrusion happening below the blanket.
I feel fucking powerless, and it makes me want to rip the walls down in here.
“Calm down, Daddy,” the older lady reprimands, giving me stink-eye. “You can be a calming force for your wife, or you can be the opposite and make it worse. Stress is the last thing this mommy-to-be needs.”
Daddy. Fuck.
I empty my lungs and take a beat to calm myself down.
I inhale and then empty them again and look at my wife, whose hand is gripping mine tight while she stares at the monitor, a monitor whose picture makes no sense to me.
A moment later, the woman in the pink scrubs pulls the scope from under Violet’s blanket and removes the condom from the machine, tossing it in a bin.
“I’ll be right back.”
“What?” I demand.
“One moment, Mr. Coulter.”
I look at Violet, who is biting her nails and still staring at the monitor.
“It’s gonna be okay,” I assure her.
She swallows hard, saying nothing.
Dr. Anderson returns an eternity later and clasps her hands. “It’s early, but everything looks fine. Your cervix is closed, so that’s good news. Bloodwork came back and HCG levels are consistent with early pregnancy, so I’d say congratulations, you’re pregnant, and everything looks like it’s on track based on your dates.” She smiles.
Violet exhales. So do I.
“There’s no promises that there aren’t complications brewing, but it’s too early to tell, though we see nothing of concern. Could be implantation bleeding but some women simply have a bit of spotting. Take it easy for a bit, and if the bleeding continues, gets heavier, or you start cramping, it might be cause for alarm. Have you seen your family doctor yet?”
“Not yet,” Violet says.
“Well, all he or she would’ve done is tell you what I’m about to tell you. Make an appointment for no later than twelve weeks gestation. You’re about five and a half weeks along right now based on your dates and the lab work. We’ll forward a report. Start on prenatal vitamins.”
“I already did.”
“Are you having nausea or vomiting?”
“I threw up a lot yesterday and this morning. And again tonight.”
“Believe it or not, that’s a good sign. It’s a sign things are happening the way they’re supposed to. I’m not at all worried about your hormone levels. If you want your mind put at ease, get in to see your doctor in a couple weeks and they should be able to pick up a heartbeat and schedule your first ultrasound. Minimizing stress is always a good thing.” She smiles. “Any questions?”
“I don’t think so,” Violet says.
“Thank you,” I say.
She nods. “I’ll have your nurse here in a few minutes with the discharge papers and a pamphlet that’ll help with questions. Best of luck to you. Don’t worry too much if you can’t keep food down through the nausea. Stay hydrated and take those vitamins. This is all par for the course for the first trimester.”
“Thanks,” Violet breathes.
20
Violet
“I guess take me to my grandfather’s,” I say as he pulls out of the hospital parking lot. It’s just about eleven o’clock and obviously, Mom, Dad, or Cody would’ve taken him home by now.
“Not about to try to get you upset here. More stress is the last thing I want for you, the absolute last thing, but I do not fucking think so. I’m taking you home with me.”
“Killian-” I start.
He lifts a finger to halt me, then his hand returns to the steering wheel and his knuckles are white, he’s gripping it that hard. “Do not argue with me, Violet. I’m taking you home and I’m looking after you. I’m looking after the both of you.”
My throat clogs at the same time as my heart flares at both his words and how he says them.
We stop at a red light and when his eyes hit mine, I see determination and emotion in them. So much emotion, I can’t even form words. Or coherent thoughts. Or tear my eyes away from his.
He swallows thickly and looks back at the light as we wait for the light to change.
I sit quietly, processing.
Processing the guilt most of all.
I don’t know if I’ve stressed myself out to the point of putting my baby in jeopardy or not, if I would’ve had this bleeding anyway, but regardless – this was a wake-up call. This baby is my priority. I am determined I’ll pull my shit together.
I can’t begin to process Killian’s reaction to all this right now. It feels too … too raw. All of it.
***
He’s carrying me again. Refusing to let me walk from the car to the elevator.