“We need to get you into the operating room immediately. You’ll see her after. If you want me to go tell her what’s going on while they get you ready, I can.”
“Please.” I squeezed my eyes closed, hot tears spilling out.
He was gone before I even realized he’d pulled away from me. Nurses came rushing in.
I was wheeled back out of the room, down a long hallway.
I was cold now, shivering.
Somebody put a warm blanket over me, and I burrowed into it.
“I need your arm, Ms. Parrino,” one of the nurses said.
I gave it to her, gasping as another wave of pain started.
“I’m adding this medicine to your IV. It won’t hurt for much longer.”
Another two seconds was too long, but I managed to nod. “Will somebody call my parents? Ryder?”
“We can have one of the emergency room nurses call.”
“No!” Panicked, I shook my head. “No. Have my friend Stella…make her…make her call.”
“Okay. We can do that. The medicine is in now. You’ll start to feel better…”
Oh, if only…
But then a blurred, disjointed feeling settled over me.
“Is that better?” the nurse asked.
I nodded. “Thank you…”
Another voice joined in.
I blinked and tried to focus on the woman’s face as she bent over me. “I’m the anesthesiologist,” she told me. “They’re going to take you into the operating room now. I’ll be in there with you the whole time, okay?”
I closed my eyes. “Okay.”
When I opened them again, we were in a different room.
The woman from earlier was there again. “Okay, we’re going to get you settled so we can start. I’m giving you…”
I didn’t hear anything else.
I woke to utter silence.
The bright light shining in on me had me blinking, and I looked around, trying to figure out what was going on.
I went to push myself up, but my limbs were weak, and even that faint movement sent pain blasting through my mid-section.
“Hey, hey…” I wheeled my head around searching for the source of that voice. A woman, unknown to me, appeared at my side. “Easy there, Ms. Parrino,” she said. “You don’t want to go moving around just yet.”
“Why not?” I asked.
She smiled, apparently unfazed by the question. “You had surgery a few hours ago. Do you remember?”
I blinked, confused.
Surgery…?
But then memory was trickling back in. It wasn’t a flood. Instead, I grasped one memory and then from that I moved to the next.
“I was cramping,” I said softly. “It hurt so bad…”
Her eyes were gentle as she reached up to cover my hand. “You were pregnant. It was an ectopic pregnancy – a tubal pregnancy. Do you understand what that means?”
Something ghosted through my mind, but I couldn’t latch onto it.
“I’m pregnant?” I whispered. But as soon as I said it, another memory rose up. The doctor bent over me and talking to me in an urgent voice.
The nurse started to talk, but I held up a hand, silencing her.
“I know what it means. The doctor told me. The baby…I mean, the pregnancy…we didn’t stand a chance.”
“No. I’m sorry.” She covered my hand with hers, and desperate for the comfort, I turned mine over and laced our fingers together. She squeezed my hand gently and stood there in silence as I processed what had happened.
“The doctor…” I tried to grab another memory. It hovered just out of reach, but finally, I was able to grasp it. “He said they had to do surgery. Something about a rupture?”
“Yes.” Gentle blue eyes held mine. “Once a tubal pregnancy gets so far along, this happens. You were on the verge of rupture when you got into the emergency department. They had no choice but surgical intervention.”
Tears leaked from the corners of my eyes. I’d been pregnant, and I hadn’t known.
“What happens now?” I asked, my voice shaking.
“Now…you rest and heal up. They were able to perform a laparoscopic surgery…you only have a small incision. If you do well today, you can go home tomorrow and rest…heal. You will need to take a couple of weeks off work.”
I groaned. I’d already been off for a week. While some part of me already knew that Lukas would understand, the very thought of spending time alone just then was intolerable.
“Your mother and father are already here.” She gave my hand one more, gentle squeeze. “Would you like to see them?”
“Yes.” I nodded, desperate just then to see my mother.
“Okay. Your friend Stella has been waiting too.” The nurse offered me a smile. “She hasn’t left since she brought you in.”
“I want to see her too.”
“Very well.” She did a quick exam and asked if I felt up to going to the bathroom.
Until that moment, I’d been unaware of the pressure in my bladder, and I gave her a grateful look.
“We’ll get that taken care of first then,” she said, lowering the bedrail on my right.
She helped me sit up. I wasn’t sure I would have been able to do it without her, and even with her assistance, I sat on the side of the bed with my head spinning.
“Think you can make it?” she asked. “If not–”
“I can make it,” I said resolutely. I wasn’t going to not make it.
Ten agonizing minutes later, I was back in bed. She had left while I was in the bathroom, and when I came back out, she told me she had some pain medicine for me.
I took it gratefully and nodded when she asked if I was ready for my visitors.
No sooner had my mother stepped into the room, with Stella’s arm wrapped around her shoulders, did I start crying.
Ryder had been calling.
I’d told Stella that I didn’t want him to know where I was or what had happened. I was still trying to come to grips with it myself, and every time I saw his number flash up on my cell phone, I had to remind myself that I still needed to talk to him.
He had the right to know, didn’t he?
But I wasn’t ready to talk about it, either, and every time his number came up, instead of answering the call, I ignored it.
I knew I wouldn’t be able to do it forever.
But I still wasn’t ready for the inevitable discussion.
One of my fallopian tubes had been removed. The embryo had been fertilized in my right fallopian tube, and it had been on the verge of rupture when they got me into the operating room. If we’d realized what was going on earlier, they might have been able to save that tube, but as it was, there had been nothing the doctors could do.
A grim-faced doctor had already been in to talk to me once.
Apparently, a pregnancy test had been done while I was in the hospital following the crash, but for some reason, the results had gotten lost, and nobody had followed up on it.
I couldn’t help but wonder if we had known sooner, would it have been possible to change what had happened?
The doctor had assured me that no matter when they found out about the pregnancy, nothing would have changed the outcome of that pregnancy. Ectopic pregnancies only ever ended one way – no baby could grow in a fallopian tube.
I’d been doing some reading up on my phone during my more lucid moments, and I had some vague grasp on what had happened, but it was a distant sort of knowledge, like it was all happening to somebody else.
I wanted to be away from all the people who kept coming into the room – nurses, aides, housekeeping staff, people asking me what I wanted for lunch or breakfast.
How could I even think about eating now?
I was brooding over the food that had been brought in for my lunch when I heard a knock at the door. I was startled to see my gynecologist there but managed to offer a weak smile.
“Hi, Dr. Bergstrom,” I said, meeting the kind eyes of the
middle-aged woman.
She closed the door behind her and came to stand at the side of my bed. “How are you feeling?” I closed my eyes and shook my head. “It’s been a rough couple of days for you,” she said, taking my hand.
“Yeah.” I nodded stiffly. “I guess the hospital called you?”
“Yes. My partner was the one who performed your surgery last night. How is your pain level. More manageable now?”
“Yes.” I licked my lips, then dragged my gaze over to meet hers. “They had to remove one of my tubes, they told me.”
“Yes.” She grabbed a chair and pulled it up closer to the side of the bed.
The expression on her face had a hard, cold knot settling in my belly, and I wanted to tell her to leave. Whatever it was she had to say, I didn’t want to hear it.
But the words locked inside my throat.
“Unfortunately, with your endometriosis, tubal pregnancies are more of a risk.” She studied me as if trying to make sure I understood what she was saying.
“I’ve been reading up on what happened,” I said hesitantly. “I lost one tube, but there’s still the other one.”
She lowered her gaze.
“Dr. Bergstrom.” Her name was a bare whisper when I finally managed to push it out.
She looked back at me but didn’t speak right away. Instead, she took my hand and squeezed gently. “You’re young, and you’re healthy. You’ll recover from this without a problem.”
“Why do I hear a but in your voice?”
She smiled at me sadly. “I’m afraid there is a pretty significant but.” She continued to hold my hand. “The ultrasound that was done revealed something…concerning.”
“Concerning how?” I demanded, my voice sharp. I cleared my throat, then said, “I’m sorry. Would you…just tell me, okay?”
She nodded, but it took her a few moments to start to speak. “You understand that the right fallopian tube is gone. There was no way to salvage it. Unfortunately…” She hesitated a moment before continuing. “the tube on your left is…not normal.”
“What does that mean?”
“Just that. It’s formed oddly.” She pulled a notebook out of her pocket and flipped it open.
Dully, I watched as she sketched something out. “This is what a normal fallopian tube looks like – your right tube was normal.”
I stared at the sketch, committing it to memory. She’d drawn a thin tube that rounded out, an oblong C shape, in a way.
“This is what your left tube looks like.” She did another sketch then presented it to me.
The crooks and curves she displayed meant little to me. But I understood what she was saying. My left tube wasn’t formed right.
“Can we…” I licked my lips, aware that my throat had gone terribly dry. “Can we fix it?”
“No.” She put the notepad back in her pocket. “You were born this way. There’s nothing you did or could have done that caused this.”
I blew out a slow, shaky breath and nodded, the image she’d shown still flashing through my mind.
“What does this mean?” I asked.
It had to mean something, or she wouldn’t look so grim.
“I’m afraid it means you will likely never be able to conceive children,” she said gently. “Not naturally, at least.”
She looked away then.
“What else?” I demanded, my throat threatening to close up on me. “There’s more, isn’t there?”
“Yes.” She gently touched the back of my hand. “Unfortunately, with your endometriosis, even more alternative methods such as in vitro fertilization could be problematic.”
I would have thought there would be tears. But I blinked eyes that were almost painfully dry.
Slowly withdrawing my hand so that she could no longer touch me, I twisted the sheets in my hands as I stared at the wall in front of me.
“You’re telling me I’ll probably never be able to have kids,” I said woodenly.
“I’m afraid that is true.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block out what she had just told me. But the words wouldn’t go away.
I would never be a mother.
“Is there anything I can do for you?” Dr. Bergstrom asked softly. “Do you want me to get your mother? Or the friend who brought you in?”
“No,” I said, having to force the word out. My throat was so tight, so constricted. “No. I just want to be left alone.”
28
Breanna
It was snowing outside.
I sat curled up in my favorite chair and stared out the window.
I had a book in my lap, but although I’d been trying to read, I kept having to stop and go back to the past few lines, and by the time I thought I knew what was going on, I’d have to stop and back up all over again.
I couldn’t concentrate.
I didn’t want to concentrate, if I was honest.
Concentration required thinking and thinking just then sort of…sucked.
Everything sort of sucked.
My phone chimed, and I picked it up listlessly, already knowing who had just texted me.
It was, indeed, Ryder.
I’d finally told Stella yesterday after she brought me home from the hospital that she could tell Ryder that I had been sick and had to go to the hospital. But she hadn’t elaborated on why.
I still needed to tell him.
But the very thought of talking about what happened left me feeling cold and empty inside.
I read his text.
Breanna, please let me come over. I want to see you. I need to know that you’re okay.
I swallowed and lowered the phone. I shouldn’t keep putting him off, but I didn’t know how to tell him what had happened. I also didn’t know how to tell him what would never happen.
So instead of telling him he could come by, I sent him an emoji, the little sleepy-faced guy, then a text.
I’m still tired. It’s hard for me to stay awake. Let me get some energy back first. I don’t want to fall asleep on you.
He sent back another text almost immediately.
Fall asleep on me. I don’t mind. I just need to see you.
Tears burned my eyes, but I wiped them away.
We’ll see how I’m feeling tomorrow.
He didn’t text back.
After a few more minutes, I eased myself upright and made my way into the kitchen. I wasn’t even remotely hungry. I hadn’t had an appetite since they released me from the hospital.
But I was thirsty, and I wanted to take my pain medicine. When I took that, it helped me to rest, and I was so achingly tired.
I didn’t even want to dream, and the pain medicine helped with that too. It was only when I was awake and clear-headed that it was possible to really think. To brood.
And I didn’t want to think yet.
I wasn’t ready.
In the kitchen, I found the bottle of narcotics they’d prescribed and tapped one of them out into my palm.
I washed it down with milk – I’d already learned the hard lesson on taking that stuff on an empty belly. I wasn’t going through that again.
After rinsing out my glass, I made my way into my bedroom and slid into bed. I wasn’t ready to sleep yet.
But if I closed my eyes and practiced some deep breathing, I could clear my mind.
And that was something I desperately needed just then.
“Have you told Ryder yet?”
I sat in my chair once more. Phone cradled on my shoulder, I told Stella, “No. I just…” I sighed and brushed my hair back. “I don’t know how. This all just hurts so much, Stel. I can’t think about it.”
“Do you want me to come over?” she offered.
“No.” She’d been the one who held me when I finally started to cry in the hospital. I knew she wouldn’t mind offering another shoulder, but I wasn’t ready to give into the grief yet either. “You’ve got your hands full taking over my workload for the next week already.”
I’d told her the doctors had recommended I take another week off. She’d told me she’d clear it with Lukas, then insisted I rest.
A bouquet of lilies had arrived at my doorstep less than an hour after I’d gotten home. Included had been a card from the ad agency. It had read simply:
Take all the time you need. We’re here for you.
It had made me sniffle, and I tucked the card away inside my dresser drawer.
More flowers arrived.
From my parents, my brothers and sister. Two dozen roses were delivered, and the card inside had read simply, Ryder.
He’d already called me again, and I had ignored the call – again, letting it go to voicemail, then deleting it without even listening to what he had to say.
There were other messages, from my brothers and siblings, other friends from work.
Only my family and Stella knew what had really happened, and I had to delete any number of messages and texts from well-meaning friends who kept asking for more information and if I was going to be okay.
Okay. Was I going to be okay?
I honestly didn’t know.
I’d cried myself sick so many times, it was a miracle I had any tears left.
But just when I thought I might be past the worst of it, a new wave of grief would rise to swamp me.
Finally, around midday, the day after I’d been released from the hospital, I made my mind stop running in circles.
My phone had once more started to ring, then gone silent and I knew it was Ryder.
I couldn’t keep ignoring his calls.
I couldn’t keep ignoring him.
I understood the reasons behind my avoidance, but that didn’t make it any easier.
As clear as if it had just happened, I could hear DeLaria’s voice.
She’d told me that Ryder had always dreamed about a big family.
At some point, I’d wanted the same.
But now I knew the truth of it.
I’d never have a family. Well, outside of the one I created with friends and the bonds I had with my parents and siblings.