‘Which is why they want to do the scan. Impact on the developing foetus isn’t inevitable, but high anxiety could lead to reduced blood flow to the baby, which could result in low birth weight or premature labour.’
The words pounded down on him.
‘Premature labour? That can’t happen. So from now on do you need bed rest?’ he demanded.
‘Not bed rest, exactly,’ sh
e countered. ‘But they may suggest some activity restrictions.’
A low sound rumbled in his chest. ‘I need more than that, zvyozdochka. Tell me precisely what restrictions.’
‘It’s not definite yet,’ she hedged.
‘Saskia.’
The warning was clear, but still she blinked at him before capitulating.
‘Fine. Light exercise is fine, but lifting heavy weights, housework, for the moment they’re off limits.’
‘Work?’ he pushed.
‘Let’s see what the scan shows,’ she countered shakily.
He knew he should let it go and give her some semblance of feeling that she was still in control.
But he couldn’t.
‘I can’t imagine they left that open to interpretation when, as a doctor, you’re constantly running around a hospital—a highly stressful environment.’
‘Lots of pregnant women work.’ She narrowed her eyes at him. ‘Some even work in hospitals.’
‘And they don’t end up here,’ he said trying to keep the dark, terrible thoughts at bay. ‘Afraid for their baby.’
‘We don’t know anything yet,’ Saskia repeated, but there was no strength to her words. Only thinly veiled fear. ‘I can’t just take the next five months off for a panic attack.’
He softened his voice, taking her hand. ‘This is about the baby. Our baby. And your health. If it’s about the money, I can cover any expenses.’
‘It isn’t about the money!’ she cried, but she didn’t try to pull her hand away. ‘This is about letting down the hospital, my patients, my colleagues.’
A savage fury swept through him in that moment, but he couldn’t reply. He couldn’t even speak.
And then suddenly she shot him a desperate look.
‘I don’t even know if anything is wrong.’
It was like a fog lifting.
‘You feel responsible for them,’ he realised abruptly. It was a sensation that he knew only too well, and she didn’t need him judging her or condemning her. She needed him to understand and take control.
‘I...yes.’
‘But this isn’t about them. It’s about you and it’s about our child. And you won’t be going through this alone.’ Malachi dropped his voice. ‘I will look after you, zvyozdochka.’
She dragged her eyes up to him, searching, imploring. And then she stopped and offered the briefest of nods, her fingers gripping his hand tightly, as though she was never going to let it go.
There was so much more to say. So many ways to reassure her. But at that moment Saskia’s consultant returned and, after a brief introduction, led them to an available ultrasound room.
The same one they’d been in for that first scan. It almost felt like fate—if Malachi had ever believed in such things.