At First Sight (21 page)

“I don’t see anything.”

“Exactly,” she said. “That’s how we know it’s a girl.”

Lexie laughed, and Jeremy leaned toward her. “Say hello to Misty,” he whispered.

“Hush! I’m trying to enjoy this,” she said, squeezing his hand.

“Okay, let me get a few measurements here, to make sure the baby’s developing on schedule, okay?”

The technician moved the hand piece again, hit one button and then another. Jeremy remembered her doing the same thing the last time they were here. “She’s right on schedule,” the technician added. “It says here she’s due October 19.”

“So she’s growing okay?” he asked.

“Seems to be,” said the technician. She moved the hand piece again to measure the heart and femur, then suddenly froze. Instead of pushing the button, she moved the hand piece away from the leg, zeroing in on what seemed to be a white line stretching toward the baby, something that looked almost like static or a flaw in the screen. She frowned slightly as she zeroed in on it. All at once, she began moving the hand piece more quickly, pausing frequently to examine the new image. She seemed to be checking the baby from every angle.

“What are you doing?” Jeremy asked.

The technician seemed lost in concentration. “Just checking something,” she murmured. She continued trying to zero in on the image before shaking her head. She raced through the rest of the measurements, then went back to what she’d been doing before. Images of the baby from every angle appeared and disappeared. Again, the technician zeroed in on the wavy line.

“Is everything okay?” Jeremy pressed.

Her eyes were still focused on the screen as she drew a long breath. Her voice was surprisingly steady.

“I see something that the doctor might want to have a look at.”

“What does that mean?”

“Let me get the doctor,” she said, rising. “He’ll probably be able to tell you more than I can. Stay where you are and I’ll be right back.”

Perhaps it was the measured sound of her words that made the blood drain from Lexie’s face. Jeremy suddenly felt her squeeze his hand again, this time hard. A series of dizzying images flashed through his mind, for he knew exactly what the technician had meant. She’d seen something unusual, something different . . . something bad. And in that instant, time stopped as his mind raced through possibilities. The room seemed to close in as he tried to make sense of the fuzzy line he’d seen.

“What’s going on?” Lexie whispered. “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” Jeremy said.

“Is something wrong with the baby?”

“She didn’t say that,” Jeremy said as much to steady himself as her. He swallowed through the sudden dryness in his throat. “I’m sure it’s nothing.”

Lexie seemed on the verge of tears. “Then why’s she getting the doctor?”

“She probably has to if she sees something.”

“What did she see?” she asked, almost pleading. “I didn’t see anything.”

He thought about it again. “I don’t know.”

“Then what is it?”

Not knowing what else to do or even what to say, he scooted his chair closer. “I’m not sure. But the baby’s heartbeat was fine, and she’s growing. She would have said something earlier if something was wrong with the baby.”

“Did you see her face? She seemed . . . scared.”

This time, Jeremy couldn’t respond. Instead, he stared at the far wall. Despite the fact that he and Lexie were together, Jeremy suddenly felt very much alone.

A moment later, the physician and the technician entered the room, forced smiles on their faces. The technician took her seat as the doctor stood behind her. Neither Jeremy nor Lexie could think of anything to say. In the silence, Jeremy could hear his own breathing.

“Let’s take a look,” Dr. Sommers said.

The technician added a bit more gel; when she placed the hand piece on Lexie’s stomach, the baby came into view once more. When the technician pointed to the screen, however, it wasn’t toward the baby.

“Can you see it?” she said.

The doctor leaned forward; so did Jeremy. Again, he saw the wavy white line. This time, he noticed that it seemed to be coming from the walls encircling the baby in the surrounding dark space.

“Right there.”

The doctor nodded. “Has it attached?”

The technician moved the hand piece, and various images of the baby came into view. She shook her head as she spoke. “When I was looking earlier, I didn’t see that it had attached anywhere. I think I checked everywhere.”

“Let’s make sure,” the doctor said. “Let me take over for a minute.” The technician rose, and the doctor took her place.

The doctor was silent as he moved the hand piece again; he seemed less adept at the machine, and the images appeared more slowly. Like the technician, he leaned toward the screen. For a long time, no one said anything.

“What is it?” Lexie’s voice trembled. “What are you looking for?”

The doctor glanced at the technician, who quietly left the room. When they were alone, the doctor brought the white line into view. “Do you see this?” he asked. “This is what is known as an amniotic band,” he said. “What I’ve been doing is checking to see if it’s attached to the baby anywhere. If it does attach, it’s usually on the extremities, like the arms and legs. So far, though, it seems that it hasn’t attached, and that’s good.”

“Why? I don’t understand,” Jeremy said. “What do you mean by band? What can it do?”

The doctor exhaled slowly. “Okay, this band is made up of the same fibrous material as the amnion-the sack that holds the baby. See it here?” He ran his finger in a roughly circular manner over the sack, then to the band. “As you can see, one end of the band is attached here to the sack, the other end is floating free. This free-floating end can attach to the fetus. If that happens, the baby will be born with amniotic band syndrome, or ABS.”

When the doctor spoke again, his tone was deliberately neutral. “I’ll be perfectly frank: If that happens, it greatly increases the odds of congenital abnormalities. I know how hard this is to hear, but that’s why we really took our time examining the images. We wanted to be sure that the band hasn’t attached.”

Jeremy could barely breathe. From the corner of his eye, Jeremy saw Lexie bite her lip.

“Will it attach?” Jeremy asked.

“There’s no way to know. Right now, the other end of the band is floating in the amniotic fluid. The fetus is still small right now. As it grows, the likelihood of attachment increases, but true amniotic band syndrome is rare.”

“What kinds of abnormalities?” Lexie whispered.

It wasn’t a question the doctor wanted to answer, and it showed. “Again, it depends on where it attaches, but if it’s true ABS, it could be serious.”

“How serious?” Jeremy said.

He sighed. “If it attaches to the extremities, the baby could be born without a limb, or with a clubfoot, or with syndactyly, which is webbing between the fingers. If it attaches elsewhere, it could even be worse.”

As the doctor answered, Jeremy found himself growing dizzy. “What do we do?” he forced out. “Is Lexie going to be okay?”

“Lexie will be fine,” he said. “ABS doesn’t affect the mother in any way. And as for what to do, there’s really nothing we can do except wait. There’s no reason for bed rest or anything like that. I will recommend that we get a level two ultrasound, which will create a clearer image, but again, all we’ll be looking for is to see whether the band has attached to the fetus. And again, I don’t think it has. After that, we’ll do serial ultrasounds-probably one every two or three weeks, but that’s all we can do for now.”

“How did it happen?”

“It wasn’t anything you did or didn’t do. And keep in mind that so far it doesn’t look like it’s attached. I know I’ve said that before, but that’s important to understand. So far, there’s nothing wrong with your baby at all. Her growth is fine, her heartbeat is strong, and her brain is developing normally. So far, so good.”

In the silence, Jeremy could hear the steady, mechanical hum of the ultrasound machine.

“You said it could get even worse if it attaches elsewhere,” he said.

The doctor shifted in his seat. “Yes,” he admitted. “It’s unlikely that it will, though.”

“How much worse?”

Dr. Sommers slid his file off to the side, as if deciding how much to say. “If it attaches to the cord,” he said at last, “you could lose the baby.”

At First Sight

Seventeen

T hey could lose the baby.

As soon as the doctor left, Lexie broke down, and it was all Jeremy could do to keep his own tears in check. He was drained and speaking on autopilot, reminding her again and again that so far the baby was fine and she would probably stay that way. Instead of calming her, his words seemed to make her feel worse. Her shoulders heaved and her hands trembled as he held her; by the time she finally pulled back, Jeremy’s shirt was soaked with her tears.

She said nothing as she dressed; instead, the only sound in the room was the raspy intake of her breath, as if she were trying not to cry. The room felt unbearably close, as if all the oxygen were being sucked away; Jeremy was unsteady on his feet. When he saw Lexie buttoning her blouse over the rounded bulge of her belly, he had to lock his knees to keep from falling over.

The fear was suffocating and overwhelming; the sterility of the room struck him as surreal. This couldn’t be happening. None of it made sense. The earlier ultrasounds had picked up nothing. Lexie hadn’t had so much as a cup of coffee since she’d found out she was pregnant. She was healthy and strong, she got enough sleep. But something was wrong. As he stared, he could imagine the band floating in the amniotic fluid like the tentacles of a poisonous jellyfish. Waiting, drifting, ready to attack.

He wanted Lexie to lie down, to cease all movement, so the tentacle wouldn’t find its way to the baby. At the same time, he wanted her to walk around, to keep doing what she had been doing, since the tentacle was still floating free. He wanted to know what to do to increase the chances that their baby would be okay. The air in the room was almost gone now, and his mind was going white with fear.

Their baby might die. Their little girl might die. Their little girl, the only one they might ever have.

He wanted to leave this place and never come back; he wanted to stay here and talk to the doctor again to make sure he understood everything that was happening. He wanted to tell his mother, his brothers, his father, so he could cry on their shoulders; he wanted to say nothing, to carry the burden with stoicism. He wanted his baby to be okay. He repeated the words over and over in his mind, as if willing her to stay away from the tentacle. When Lexie reached for her purse, he caught sight of her red-rimmed eyes and the image almost broke his heart. None of this was supposed to have happened. It was supposed to be a good day, a happy day. But the joyous anticipation was gone now, and tomorrow would be worse. The baby would be bigger, and the tentacle would get closer. And every passing day would increase the danger.

In the hallway, the technician immersed herself in paperwork as they passed on their way to the doctor’s private office. As they sat across the desk from the doctor, he showed them the printouts from the sonogram. He walked them through the same descriptions, told them the same things about the amniotic band. He liked to go over things a second time, he said. Most people didn’t really hear him the first time around because of the shock. He emphasized again that the baby was doing well and that he didn’t think the band had attached. This, he said again, was good news. But all Jeremy could think about was the tentacle floating inside his wife, drifting, moving close to the baby, and then veering away. Danger and safety, playing a deadly game of tag. The baby growing, getting larger, crowding the sack. Could the band float freely then?

“I know how hard this is to hear,” the doctor said again.

No, Jeremy thought, he didn’t. It wasn’t his baby, his little girl. His little girl in pigtails and kneeling by a soccer ball was smiling in a picture frame atop the doctor’s desk. His daughter was fine. No, he didn’t know. He couldn’t know.

Outside the office, Lexie broke down again and he held her tightly. They said almost nothing to each other on the ride home, and later Jeremy barely remembered the drive. At home, he went straight to the Internet and searched for information on amniotic band syndrome. He saw pictures of webbed fingers, stunted limbs, missing feet. He was prepared for those; he wasn’t prepared for the facial deformities, abnormalities that made the baby look barely human. He read about spinal and intestinal deformities in those instances where the tentacle attached to the body. He closed the screen, went to the bathroom, and ran cold water over his face. He decided to say nothing to Lexie about what he’d seen.

Lexie had called Doris the moment they got home, and the two of them were now sitting in the living room. Lexie had cried when Doris came to the door, and she cried again later as she sat on the couch. Doris began crying as well, even as she assured Lexie that she was sure the baby would be okay, that there was a reason the Lord had blessed them, that Lexie should continue to have faith. Lexie asked Doris not to tell anyone, and she promised not to. Nor did Jeremy tell his family. He knew how his mother would react, how she would sound on the phone, the regular calls that would follow. But even if his mother believed she’d be supporting Jeremy, to him it would feel the other way around. He couldn’t handle that, couldn’t imagine having to support someone else right now, even his mother. Especially his mother. It was hard enough to support Lexie and keep his own emotions in check. But he had to be strong, for both of them.

Later that night, as he lay in bed with Lexie beside him, he tried to think of anything but the tentacle that was waiting to ensnare the baby.

Three days later, they went in for the level II ultrasound at East Carolina University Medical Center, in Greenville. There was no excitement when they checked in or filled out the forms; in the waiting room, Lexie moved her purse from the end table to her lap and back again. She walked toward the magazine rack and picked one out but didn’t open it once she returned to her seat. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and glanced around the waiting room. She tucked another strand behind her other ear and looked at the clock.

In the preceding days, Jeremy had learned everything he could about amniotic band syndrome, hoping that by understanding it, he would no longer fear it. But the more he learned, the more anxious he felt. At night he tossed and turned, sick not only at the thought that the baby was in danger, but at the knowledge that more than likely this would be the only pregnancy Lexie would ever experience. This pregnancy wasn’t supposed to have happened, and sometimes, in his blackest moods, he found himself wondering whether it was the universe’s way of paying him back for breaking the rules in the first place. He wasn’t meant to have a child. He’d never been meant to have a child.

He said nothing about any of this to Lexie. Nor did he tell her the complete truth about ABS.

“What did you find out on the computer?” she’d asked the night before.

“Not much more than the doctor told us,” Jeremy said.

She nodded. Unlike him, she was under no illusion that knowledge would lessen her fears.

“Every time I move, I wonder if I’m doing something I shouldn’t.”

“I’m not sure that’s how it works,” he said.

She nodded again. “I’m scared,” she whispered.

Jeremy slipped his arm around her. “I am, too.”

They were led into the room, and Lexie pulled up her shirt when the technician entered. Though the technician smiled, she could sense the tension in the room and went straight to work.

The baby appeared on the screen, and the image was much clearer. They could see the baby’s features: her nose and chin, her eyelids and fingers. When Jeremy peeked at Lexie, she squeezed his hand with painful intensity.

The amniotic band, the tentacle, hadn’t attached yet. There were ten weeks to go.

“I hate waiting like this,” Lexie said. “Waiting and hoping and not knowing what’s going to happen.”

She said exactly what Jeremy was thinking, the words he refused to utter in her presence. A week had gone by since they had received the news, and although they were surviving, that’s all it seemed they could do. Survive and hope and wait. Another ultrasound was scheduled in less than two weeks.

“It’s going to be okay,” Jeremy said. “Just because the band is there doesn’t mean it’s going to attach.”

“Why me, though? Why us?”

“I don’t know. But it’s going to work out. Everything’s going to be fine.”

“How do you know that? You can’t know that. You can’t promise me that.”

No, I can’t, Jeremy thought. “You’re doing everything right,” he said instead. “You’re healthy and you eat right and you take care of yourself. I just tell myself that as long as you keep doing those things, the baby will be fine.”

“It’s just not fair,” she cried. “I mean, I know it’s petty, but when I read the papers, I always come across stories about girls who have babies when they didn’t even know they were pregnant. Or have perfectly healthy babies and abandon them. Or smoke and drink and everything turns out okay. It’s not fair. And now I can’t even enjoy the rest of the pregnancy. It’s like I wake up every day and even if I’m not thinking about it specifically, I walk around with this sense of anxiety, and then boom! It hits me all at once and I remember and I find myself thinking that something inside me might kill the baby. Me! I’m doing this. My body is doing this, and no matter how hard I want to stop it, I can’t and there’s nothing I can do.”

“It’s not your fault,” Jeremy said.

“Then whose is it? The baby’s?” she snapped. “What did I do wrong?”

It was the first time Jeremy realized that Lexie wasn’t simply frightened, but felt guilty as well. The realization made him ache.

“You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“But this thing inside me-”

“Hasn’t done anything yet,” he said gently. “And part of the reason, I’m sure, is that you’ve been doing everything right. The baby is fine. That’s all we know for sure right now. The baby’s doing great.”

Lexie whispered so softly that Jeremy barely heard her. “Do you think she’ll be okay?”

“I know she’ll be okay.”

Again, he was lying, but he couldn’t tell her the truth. Sometimes, he knew, lying was the right thing to do.

Jeremy had little experience with death. But death had been Lexie’s companion throughout her life. Not only had she lost her parents, but she’d also lost her grandfather a few years back. While Jeremy claimed to empathize, he knew he was incapable of fully understanding how hard it must have been for her. He hadn’t known her then and had no idea how she’d reacted, but he had no doubt how she would react if their baby died.

What if they went through the next ultrasound and all was well? It wouldn’t matter, he thought, for the amniotic band could still ensnare the umbilical cord. What if that happened when she went into labor? What if they were a few minutes too late? Yes, the baby would be lost, and that would be heartbreaking. But how would Lexie be? Would she blame herself? Would she blame him, since the odds of another pregnancy were basically nil? How would she feel when she walked by the baby’s room in the new house? Would she keep the baby furniture or sell it? Would they adopt?

He didn’t know, couldn’t begin to fathom the answers.

What made him hurt, however, was something else. Amniotic band syndrome was rarely fatal. But abnormalities and deformities were the rule, not the exception. It was the unspoken topic between Lexie and himself, something that neither wanted to discuss. When they talked about their worries for the baby, it was always couched in terms of possible death instead of the more realistic scenario. That their baby would look different; that their baby would have serious abnormalities; that their baby would face countless surgeries; that their baby might suffer.

He hated himself for thinking that it would matter, because when it came right down to it, he knew he would love the baby no matter what. He didn’t care about missing limbs or webbing between her fingers; he would raise her and care for her as well as any father could. Still, when he thought about the baby, he couldn’t deny that he envisioned her in almost clichéd snapshots: wearing an Easter dress while surrounded by tulips, or splashing through the sprinklers, or sitting in the high chair, smiling broadly through the chocolate cake smeared on her face. He never imagined her with deformities; he never saw her with a cleft palate or missing a nose, or with an ear the size of a penny. In his mind’s eye, she was always perfect and bright eyed. And Lexie, he knew, imagined her exactly the same way.

He knew that everyone had his or her burdens, that no one’s life was perfect. But some burdens were worse than others, and despite the terrible way it made him feel about himself, he wondered whether death would be easier than their daughter living with a severe abnormality-not a missing limb, but something far worse-one that would make her suffer for the rest of her life, no matter how long that might be. He couldn’t imagine having a child for whom pain and suffering were as constant as breathing or the beating of her heart. But what if that was his child’s destiny? It was too terrible to contemplate, and he tried to force the thought from his mind.

Still, the question haunted him.

Time moved slowly the following week. Lexie went off to work, but Jeremy didn’t even attempt to write. He couldn’t find the energy to concentrate, so instead he spent much of the time at the house. They were in the final stages of the renovations now, and Jeremy took it upon himself to begin cleaning. He washed the windows inside and out, he vacuumed the corners of the stairs, he scraped paint splatters from the counters in the kitchen. It was tedious, mind-numbing work, but it served to clear his mind, to keep his fears at bay. The painters were finishing up the rooms downstairs, and the wallpaper for the baby’s room was already hung. Lexie had picked out most of the major pieces of furniture for the room, and when they arrived, Jeremy spent two afternoons putting everything together and finishing the room. After Lexie got off work, he brought her to the house. At the top of the stairs, he asked her to close her eyes and he led her to the doorway.