Epiphany (12 page)

The ride to the doctor the hospital referred us to is
quick, not more than ten minutes—the joys of living downtown. Thankfully, the clinic
is on the first floor and I can drop Mira off right at the entrance.

After I park the car, I walk into the office to find Mira looking over a stack of
paperwork and fidgeting with a pen, clicking it rapidly against the metal clipboard.
Pondering an answer, she jots something down and moves down the list.

I take the seat next to her and pick up one of the pregnancy magazines lying on the
table. Not exactly what I would like to peruse, but it’ll have to do. It would be
nice if these doctors would have reading material for the dads, too. I’m sure I’m
not the only guy that doesn’t want to read about pregnancy hormones, getting your
pre-baby body back or ‘How Old is too
Old to Breast Feed’. Get a magazine about cars, bikes or some other manly shit?

Mira barely has time to finish filling out the papers before the nurse is calling
her back to an exam room. Taking a deep breath, I follow close behind her, ready
to grab on and push her through if she tries to bolt.

“If you can change into this gown, the doctor will be in shortly,” the young nurse
tells Mira before closing the door behind her.

“Do you want some privacy?” I’m feeling a little awkward here. I’ve seen Mira naked
hundreds of times, but this seems so ... clinical.

“Don’t you dare leave me.
Sit in that chair,” Mira whisper yells, pointing at the plastic chair just behind
the exam table, which is really just half a table with some kind of torture device
attached to the end.

A few minutes after Mira’s situated in her paper gown, someone knocks on the door
softly and then walks through without waiting for a response. Oh. Okay. That’s
how they do things here. What if she was still naked?
“Oh, I’m sorry, I thought your vagina was covered?”
Get outta here.

“Hello, Mira. I’m Doctor Banas.” The woman says, putting her hand out to Mira, which
she takes with a little hesitation. “I assume you’re the husband?”

“Fiancé,” I correct.
“Skylar.
It’s nice to meet you.”

“Well, let’s get down to business. I usually schedule an appointment before your
first exam to get some questions out of the way. Since we’re not in a typical situation
here, I’m going to go over the questionnaire with you. Are you okay with Skylar being
in the room for this?”

“Of course.
There’s nothing about me he doesn’t already know.” That’s my girl.

“Alright.
First set is going to be about your sexual history,” the doctor says, looking at
me from the corner of her eye. I’m sure the doc is waiting for me so start squirming
in my seat, but she doesn’t know the kind of relationship Mira and I have. There’s
nothing that I don’t know.

“Age of your first period?”
So, there’s a slight shift in my seat. Not enough to consider squirming, I don’t
think.

“Thirteen.” Well, they say you learn something new every day. Don’t know when I’ll
actually be able to use this handy piece of information, but I’m sure it’s something
that not many people know.

“Are your periods regular? Come at the same time of the month?”

“Typically, yes. Except …” Mira stares down at her lap. Did she realize she was
late? Should I pay more attention to this stuff?

“The age you became sexually active?”

“Eighteen.” My stomach turns, knowing exactly who the man was that took her virginity.
I can’t really say anything about it. I should have stepped up back then, and I could
have been her first; her only.

“How many sexual partners have you had since then?”

“Only two.”
How I wish she would be able to say just one.
You can’t consider sweating squirming, right?

“Have you ever been exposed to any sexually transmitted diseases?”

“No.”
Damn right, no.
Poor Mira, sitting on that table having to answer questions that she shouldn’t ever
have to—like her entire life and sexual history is on display. Who knew having a
baby would be so … invasive?

“Do you have a family history of miscarriages or stillbirths?”

“My mother had a difficult time conceiving me. I’m not sure about stillbirths,
that’s
not something we ever talked about, but miscarriages, yes. I think my mom told me
that she had three before giving birth to me.” The sadness in Mira’s voice tears
at my heart. I’m not sure if there is some kind of genetic thing that makes it harder
for some women to get pregnant, but I know it’s weighing on Mira’s mind. Also, if
the doctor has it on her checklist, it has to be important somewhere down the line.

“Including this pregnancy, how many times have you been pregnant?”

“This is my first pregnancy.” Oh fuck. No. No, it’s not. Shit. Again, as much
as I wish that I would have been the only one to get her pregnant, Danny hit that
mark first as well. Wait? Did Danny never tell her about the miscarriage? If this
could have an impact on her treatment and the care of the baby, I have to say something,
right? I’m going to kill Danny for putting this shit on me. He’s dead.

“Two,” I whisper. Mira’s head, as well as the doctor’s, whips around to face me.
Crossing then uncrossing my legs, I think it’s fair to say I’m officially squirming,
wishing I wouldn’t have been in here for that doozy.

“What did you say?” Mira asks, confusion swirling in her eyes. He never told her.
She lost a baby and he didn’t think it was important enough to tell her.

“This is your second pregnancy,” I say louder this time. “You were pregnant before
the accident and
miscarried
the baby. I don’t know why Danny never told you.” So much rage is coursing through
my veins. The fact that nobody informed Mira and
add
on top of that the fact I’m not the first man to impregnate her, I’m a ticking time
bomb trying to keep myself in check. This isn’t my time to be riled, it’s Mira’s.
She has every damn right to be.

“Why didn’t anyone think to tell me? Not Danny … you … my doctors? How can everyone
know something so personal about me and I don’t have the slightest clue?” Mira turns
around. I wish I could see her facial expressions, try to read what she’s thinking.

“Skylar, can you please explain this miscarriage to me? If you know what happened?
I’m probably going to need to pull the medical records anyway, but some information
right now is better than none if I’m going to treat Mira and your unborn baby.” The
doctor puts her hand on Mira’s bouncing knee, trying to offer her the comfort that
I’m not able to.

Sucking in a deep breath, I watch Mira slump forward, knowing I’m going to talk about
the accident and give her a piece of herself. Something she never knew she was missing.
Fucking Danny and his omitting important details ass.

“Last year, Mira was involved in a motorcycle accident. She was injured pretty badly
and spent a month and a half in the hospital in a coma. When she was brought in,
the doctors realized that she was pregnant, about four or five weeks along. While
Mira was still asleep, they tried to save the baby, but her injuries were too much.
She miscarried the next day.”

Mira’s shoulders rack violently, but no sounds come from her. Ignoring the doctor’s
unspoken request to stay in my seat, I climb on the table and wrap my arms around
her. The silent crying doesn’t stop for a few minutes. Once she composes herself,
she leans back, looking in my eyes.

“I didn’t know you were never told. I just thought you didn’t want to talk about
it. I understood and wanted to give you your privacy. This was something between
you and Danny. I never wanted to get in the middle of it. Please understand that,
Mi. I never knew you didn’t know. I swear.”

“I believe you. It just hurts. I know a lot was going on at that time, but I had
a baby inside of me. Danny and I conceived a baby. I don’t know if he grieved the
loss of our child. I don’t know anything. He should have told me and been the one
to hold me while I cried. That was his job then. I’m so sorry you were put in this
situation, Sky.”

“No apologies. How about we finish up here and then when we leave, we’ll pay Danny
a visit? Hash this out with him so the doctor can get back to her exam.”

“That sounds like an excellent plan,” Mira says, voice spiked with irritation.

I climb off the table and take the three steps back to my seat. The doctor and Mira
finish their question and answer segment, only to move onto the most uncomfortable
stuff. The doc’s words, not mine, although, I can’t see anything being more uncomfortable
than the invasion of privacy.

“Lie back and scoot your bum all the way to the edge of the table for me and put your
feet in the stirrups,” the doctor requests and Mira obliges.

When Dr. Banas pulls a tray toward the table with some very strange looking devices
on top of a sterile cloth, my head swarms with the images of exactly what she could
do with that stuff. She plans on putting that inside Mira?

“Wait. Is it safe for the baby for you to be putting that kind of stuff all up in
there? I mean, if we’re trying to prevent a miscarriage and all, it would make sense
not to shove metal objects into her vagina, right?” In my mind it’s a legitimate
question, but Mira and Dr. Banas don’t seem to think so.

The doctor laughs softly and Mira’s shaking her head back and forth. “Everything
will be fine. This just lets me check on Mira’s cervix and take cultures. I promise
this is perfectly safe for the baby.”

Relaxing back into my seat, I take a deep breath. When the doctor begins the examination,
Mira winces and my respite is abruptly interrupted. Stretching out my arm, I rub
Mira’s shoulder, offering her whatever I can to take her mind off the things going
on below the belt.

Every time Mira flinches, the Dr. Banas is swift to apologize for the pain and allow
Mira a moment to catch her breath. Even though it seems like hours, the physical
probing lasts only minutes. Once all of the swabs are packaged up, to be sent to
the lab I assume, Dr. Banas offers Mira her hand, assisting her in sitting up straight.

“How’s everything look so far?” Mira asks, uncertainly.

“From what I’ve seen, it looks good. I’m going to keep with the plan of the cream
prescribed to you by the ER. I’m going to take you into the ultrasound room to get
a look at your womb. With the accident and your injuries, I am a little concerned
about scar tissue and your family history of miscarriages. An ultrasound will also
help me gauge your due date a little better than going off your last period.” I guess
all that history Mira gave is important. As scared as I am to lose this baby, I’m
more concerned with Mira’s mental health at the moment.

“Okay,” Mira sighs. When the doctor walks out of the room, she instructs Mira to
get dressed and meet her in the hallway, where she’ll take her to the next room.

“Are you alright?” I ask, wanting to gauge Mira’s emotional state.

“Yeah, I guess. I’m probably in a little bit of shock still, but I’ll be okay. I
don’t know if I want to see the baby, Sky. If I see him or her, it’s going to make
this real, and if something happens …” I cut her off midsentence.

“If something happens, we’ll try again. And keep trying. Let’s not worry about things
we can’t control. We’re gonna go see our baby and then we’re going to go home so
you can call Kylee.”

“No, I don’t wanna tell anyone else, yet. Not until I know it’s safe.” Shrugging
into her shirt, Mira rejects my idea, but I’m not playing into this. She not going
to bottle
all of this up, and if something bad
does
happen, have nobody to talk to. No. Not on my watch.

“Listen. You’re going to tell Kylee. She’s the closest thing you have to a sister
and she loves you. Good or bad, she’s going to want to hold your hand through this,”
I say, adamantly. “Can you imagine the kind of shit fit she’ll throw if she finds
out and you weren’t the one to tell her? I want no part of that argument,” I joke,
trying to lighten the mood and her spirits.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. When we’re done, I’ll call her. She’ll be this baby’s
Godmother anyway.” Shouldn’t I be involved in this decision?

“We’re picking Godparents already? I thought we weren’t doing anything baby related
until after the first trimester. Did you change your mind already?” I’m not sure
if it’s because I’m a first time dad or what, but I want to do all the baby stuff.
Right now.
I wanna pick names and colors for the nursery. Shit! We’ll have to move to a bigger
apartment—or a house. Somewhere out of the city, he’ll need a good school district.
He
.
I could have a son.

“Slow down, babe. We’re not doing anything baby related, yet. Kylee and I made promises
to each other when we were ten years old that when we had babies, I would be Godmother
to hers and she would be to mine. It’s just a juvenile promise—one I intend on keeping
unless she gives me an out. No more baby talk today. I can practically see your
mind spinning with all the things you want to do. As long as we’re good in a few
weeks, we can do everything. I promise.” Mira’s hand comes up to rub my cheek and
makes its way into my hair, pulling me to her for a kiss that has me wanting to do
all kinds of things to her …
not
baby related.

“I’ll need to ask the doctor about sex,” I whisper in her ear, lightly tugging on
the lobe with my teeth.