The emotional grief she’d have from this loss would last far longer than pregnancy.
As her sobs softened, I carried her to the bedroom and gently laid her down. I ran my hands through her hair until her breathing evened out. After I snuck out, I dialed the number that was still up on my cell and made an appointment for the next morning with Dr. Hough.
She needed to hear all sides, learn the risks and deathly consequences she would be dealing with. Once she did, she’d understand and see what we were facing. As much as I’d love to see Lailah as a mother one day, it couldn’t be like this, not in a way that would risk her life.
I wouldn’t allow it.
Tensions were high the next morning as we worked around each other, showering and getting ready for Lailah’s appointment—the one I’d made without consulting her first, the one she’d found out about an hour ago. It had immediately ceased all communication between us.
When I’d slowly grazed my thumb over her cheek and whispered her name, coaxing her from sleep that morning, I’d known my bold move wouldn’t go over well. Last night, I’d carried my crying wife to bed as she lay helpless in my arms, and this morning, in her mind, she felt betrayed by my actions.
Honestly, her hurt feelings were okay by me as long as it would get her into that doctor’s office.
My fear, the undercurrent running rampant in my system, was that this news would grow. I could see the idea already festering inside her head. Like an infection, it would spread wildly through her thoughts, taking over her ability to think logically.
I needed her clear, focused, and on a truly straight path, the path that would lead to us traveling down a happy life together.
That life could only happen if she was willing to give it a chance.
When I allowed myself to venture down the long winding road where she was round with my child in her belly, it looked bleak, dark, and completely unknown.
Cold, eerie silence followed us as we left the apartment and walked down the hall toward the elevator. I sighed in relief when I reached out to touch her hand and felt her fingers curl around mine. As we entered the elevator, I turned toward her, seeing an entire mountain of emotions sitting on her tiny shoulders.
“I’m sorry about the doctor’s appointment,” I finally said.
She nodded, stepping forward to burrow her head in my chest.
“I just feel completely out of control, Lailah. It’s like our world is spinning on its axis, and you’re ready to go along for the ride with no knowledge of what might lie ahead.”
Her head turned upward. “I didn’t say no to the doctor. I just wish you had allowed me to do it on my own. I’ve had too many years of people organizing my life.”
My eyelids fell in shame. “You’re right.”
“But none of that matters now,” she urged, grasping my face in her palms.
Our eyes met, and in her pale blue irises, I saw everything I felt in that moment, everything I’d been feeling since the moment I walked in that door and the small little planet we called life detonated before my eyes.
She was just as scared as I was, which meant there was still hope.
“Come on. Let’s go,” she said softly as the elevator doors opened into the lobby.
I let her lead me toward the entrance.
The doorman greeted, “Good morning,” to us.
Snow fell lightly on the streets, covering everything in a silvery white glow. It was as if the city had been born anew overnight while I felt drained and dizzy.
I gladly took the doorman’s offer to hail us a cab. Wrapping an arm around Lailah, I stood with her under the awning for shelter.
In less than a minute, we were on our way toward the hospital. No words were spoken between us, but our hands clung to each other like an unbreakable chain holding us together, even when it felt like we were oceans apart.
We made our way into the hospital, a united front, moving swiftly from the entrance to the elevators to the floor that held the office suites. Lailah squeezed my hand, a tear trickling down her cheek.
“It’s going to be okay. I promise,” I said.
She nodded her head, remaining silent, as her gaze stared straight ahead toward the doors as they peeled open. I let her lead once again as we entered the office, and then I held back, allowing her to sign in. It was early, and we were the first to arrive. The smell of coffee lingered in the air, and laughter rang in the distance as coworkers caught up on the latest gossip and discussed TV shows and family. My knee nervously bobbed up and down as I listened to them casually enjoying themselves while I was out here, feeling like my head would implode at any God-given moment.
It was the same exact way I’d felt in the days after I walked away from Lailah. Life had moved on, and people had existed around me, yet I had been left silently screaming in a virtual vacuum of my own demise.
I looked down at Lailah. Would that be my life again?