“Don’t you have to get to the gym?”
“I do, but Chase is there today, so I have some time.”
“Are you sure?”
“Definitely.”
“You know, I’ve been thinking about what you said about moving. I think we’re good where we are, for now at least. We’re settled, and the thought of moving right now stresses me out.”
“I’d take care of it, but I agree with you. I want to get her room all set up, so you can start your nesting.”
“What?” Her giggle fills the cab of my truck.
“Nesting. The book I read said that new mothers begin to nest closer to delivery. I want to have the room ready, so you can do that.”
“What am I going to do with you?” Her voice is muffled with laughter.
“Marry me?”
“We’re getting there.” She smiles.
“Yeah?” I ask her, because more and more she’s hinting that she might be ready.
“I just want to make sure we do this for the right reasons.”
“There is only one reason, Winnie. We love each other. I think we both learned what not to do the first time around, well, except for Peanut.” I reach over and rest my hand on her belly. “We definitely need to do that again.”
“Let’s bring this little one into the world, and then we can see about siblings.”
“Deal,” I agree, parking my truck. We make our way inside, and before we are done signing in, a nurse is calling her name.
“You’re going to see Dr. Taylor later. First we’re going to start your glucose test,” the nurse explains. “You’ll have an hour before you see the doctor, so you can leave and come back. Just check in with the receptionist when you get back so we know.” She twists the lid off a small clear bottle filled with orange liquid. “I need you to drink all of this, and then in an hour, we’ll check your glucose reading.”
“How bad is it?” Winnie asks the nurse.
“Meh, not too terrible. We keep it cold, which makes it easier to take. My suggestion is to just get it over with.”
“Here goes,” she says, placing the bottle to her lips. She takes a big drink and then cringes. “It’s sweet.” She scrunches up her face. I watch her as she takes a few more large gulps and finishes it off. “Ugh, that was nasty.”
“What next?” I ask the nurse.
“Now we wait. I’ll check back in with you in an hour and draw some blood. Dr. Taylor will see you after.” She gives us a wave and is out the door.
“That was bad,” Winnie makes a face that tells me she did not enjoy consuming that little bottle of liquid.
“I’m sorry, babe. So, we have an hour,” I say trying to get her mind off of it.
“How are things at the gym?”
I go on to update her with the progress of all of our new locations, and how in the back of my mind I’ve thought of branching out even further. “More of a franchise,” I tell her. “So I would sell the name and the operation procedures, but we wouldn’t be running the facilities.”
“All Fit is your baby, you sure you want to do that?”
“No, this,” I reach over and lay my hand on her belly. “Is my baby, you are my wife, and I’m not willing to take on more and take more time away from either of you.”
She smiles. “We’ll work it out, Harrison.”
We chat about our parents, and how they’re taking to being grandparents. To say that they’re excited is an understatement. We talk about the possibility of her staying home full time with the baby. Time flies as we can an hour just for us. We both know the communication is important and what it can do to a relationship if you lose it.
“How long does it take to get your results from this test they have to do today?” I ask her.
She shrugs. “Twenty-four to forty-eight hours, but she said very rarely is it longer than the next day before they get the results. Depending on how busy the lab is.”
A knock sounds at the door before Dr. Taylor is pushing it open. “Good morning.” She smiles warmly. “How are you?” she asks Winnie.
“Good,” she says brightly. Way too brightly. “Aside from that nasty tasting drink.”
“It’s definitely not a fan favorite. How are you feeling otherwise?”
“She’s been tired a lot,” I chime in. Winnie turns to look at me, but I can’t read her expression. “She’s also thirsty all the time, and she seems to have to pee more frequently, but she tells me that the baby is lying on her bladder.” I spill everything that I’ve observed since our last visit.
“Harrison, I’m fine,” Winnie protests.
“Babe, it’s better to ask just to make sure. We’re both new at this, and we need to make sure everything is okay.”
“He’s right,” Dr. Taylor says, lifting her eyes from the computer screen. “You’ve gained eight pounds since the last visit. We talked about gestational diabetes, and from what Harrison is telling me, your symptoms go hand in hand. Have you been watching your diet, and getting plenty of water and exercise?”
“Wait.” I stand and walk to the exam table where Winnie is sitting, wringing her hands together. “You talked about diabetes? Where was I?” I’m running the details of our last visit through my mind, and nothing stands out to me.
“At Gwen’s last visit.”
“I don’t remember that,” I admit. Surely, I didn’t forget something as important and critical as this?
“It was before you got here,” Winnie confesses.
Fucking Gina. “Why didn’t you tell me?” I question. “I could have been helping you. I thought we were in this together?” I’m stunned that she’s kept this from me. I thought we were past that. I thought we were no longer hiding our feelings. “Winnie?”
“I’m sorry,” she says, her voice breaking. “You were upset that you were late, and I know how much stress you’re under with the gym, and the new locations. I did everything that Dr. Taylor suggested I do.” Her eyes are glassy with tears, and those tears tug at my heart.
“Baby.” I cradle her face in my hands. “I’m never too busy for you and our baby. Never. I know I used to let work come between us, but I promise you that’s not going to happen this time. You have to tell me these things. How am I going to take care of you if I don’t know what’s going on?”
“I’m sorry,” she says again, this time a single tear rolling down her cheek. I capture it with my thumb.
“We should have the blood results back tomorrow. I see here there is still a trace of sugar in your urine, not more than your last visit, but something to watch.”
“What does that mean?” I ask her. I place my arm around Winnie’s waist, where she sits on the exam table.
“The blood test will tell us more. Lots of women acquire gestational diabetes, which means the issue resolves with delivery.”
“So she’s okay? What about the baby?”
“Mom and baby are both safe. We typically see higher birth weight in babies of moms who have been diagnosed with gestational diabetes. It’s important to eat a healthy balanced diet, drink plenty of water, and get some exercise.”
“What kind of exercise? What’s safe?” I’m already thinking of a workout I can design for her that’s safe for both her and the baby.
“Walking is the best exercise.”
“Treadmill? Elliptical?” I ask.
“Yes to both. A recumbent bike, swimming, and yoga are a few others that are completely safe. Nothing vigorous, and everything within moderation. You don’t need to exercise all hours of the day. Thirty minutes a day, with your heart rate up five times a week, is what we recommend.”
I nod. “We can do that.” I’m already working through a low-impact routine for her in my mind.
“What happens if the test comes back high? Then what?” Winnie asks. I reach out and take her hand, and her grip tightens. She’s worried.
I hate she’s been handling this alone. Sure, it’s only been four weeks, but that’s four weeks that I could have helped carry some of the burden. It makes sense to me now why she’s stopped drinking her beloved chocolate milk.
“If you fail the one-hour glucose, the test you took today, we then have you come back in for an extended glucose test. It’s a three-hour test, where we draw your blood once every hour for three hours. You will have to be fasting for this one, and the drink is the same orange delicacy.” She chuckles.
“Okay,” Winnie says, straightening her shoulders.
My hand is gripping hers as the real fear of something happening to Winnie or the baby takes hold. I’ve never met our baby, but I love her all the same. And Winnie, she’s been my world since the night we met all those years ago. I’ll do everything I can to help her through this. To fight to keep them both healthy and here with me.
“Now, let’s see how you’re doing.” She asks a few more questions, and I step back so that Winnie can lie back on the table and the doctor can get measurements. “Measuring bigger than you should be at this point, but that’s okay. It’s nothing that causes a red flag currently,” she assures us.
We get to listen to the heartbeat, and my own thunders just as loudly. I love this baby. This tiny piece of me, and of Winnie. This tiny human that we created out of love. Please, God, let them both be okay. I send up a silent prayer.
“Everything sounds great. I’ll call you tomorrow with your results, and we can take it from there. If need be, we’ll schedule you in the next week or so for the three-hour fasting glucose test.”
“Thank you, Dr. Taylor,” I say, offering her my hand to shake. She takes it then offers hers to Winnie.
“You’re welcome. You and your baby are in good hands. We see this all the time. What’s important is you doing your part with diet and exercise. Do you have any more questions?”
I look at Winnie who’s already looking at me. “No.” I turn back to Dr. Taylor. “But that doesn’t mean I won’t think of more,” I admit.
She smiles. “When you do, call us. That’s what we’re here for.” She stands and walks to the door. “I’ll call you tomorrow, and we’ll take it one day at a time.”