Suzanne's Diary for Nicholas (13 page)

After Daddy goes off to work and I have you fed and dressed, I still don't feel right.

It is an odd feeling. Not too bad, but definitely not too good. I am lightheaded, and more tired than usual.

So tired, in fact, I have to lie down.

I must have fallen asleep after I tucked you into your crib, because when I opened my eyes again, the church bells from the town were striking.

It was noon already. Half the day was gone.

That's when I decided to find out what was going on.

And now, I know.

Nicholas,

After Daddy put you to bed tonight, the two of us sat out on the porch and watched the sun set on the ocean in a blaze of streaking oranges and reds. He has the most amazing touch and was patiently stroking my arms and legs, which I love more than almost anything on the planet. I could let him do this for hours, and sometimes I do.

He is very excited about his poetry lately. His great dream is to have a collection published, and suddenly people are interested. I love the excitement in his voice, and I let him talk.

“Matthew, something happened today,” I finally said, once he had told me all his news.

He turned on the couch and sat up straight. His eyes were full of worry, his brow creased.

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry.” I soothed him. “Something good happened today.”

I could feel Matt relax in my arms and also saw it on his face. “So what happened, Suzanne? Tell me all about your day.”

The nice thing is that your daddy really wants to hear about these things. He listens, and even asks questions. Some men don't.

“Well, on Wednesdays I don't go to work unless there's an emergency. There wasn't any today, thank God. So I stayed home with Nick.”

Matt put his head in my lap and let me stroke his thick, sandy brown hair. He likes this finger combing almost as much as I like his tickling. “That sounds pretty nice. Maybe I'll start taking Wednesdays off, too,” he teased.

“Isn't it lucky?” I said, “that I get to spend Wednesdays with Nicky?”

Matt pulled my face to his and we kissed. I don't know how long this incredible honeymoon of ours is going to last, but I love it and don't want it to end. Matthew is the best friend I could have ever wished for. Just about any woman would be lucky to have him. And if it ever, ever came to that--another mommy for you--I'm sure Matt would choose wisely.

Suzannes Diary for Nicholas

“Is that what happened? You and Nick had a great day together?” he asked.

I looked deeply into Matt's eyes. “I'm pregnant,” I told him.

And then Matt did just the right thing: He kissed me gently. “I love you,” he whispered. “Let's be careful, Suzanne.”

“Okay,” I whispered back. “I'll be very careful.”

Nicholas,

I don't know why, but life is usually more complicated than the plans that we make. I visited my cardiologist on the Vineyard, told him about the pregnancy, had a few tests. Then, on his recommendation, I went to Boston to see Dr. Davis again.

I hadn't mentioned the checkup to Matt, thinking it might worry him. So I went to work for a few hours, then I drove to Boston in the afternoon. I promised myself that I would talk to Matt as soon as I got home.

The porch light of the house was on when I pulled into the driveway at about seven that night. I was late. Matt was already home. He had relieved Grandma Jean of her baby-sitting duties.

I could smell the delicious aroma of home cooking: chicken, pan potatoes, and gravy warming the whole house. Oh, my God, he made dinner, I thought.

“Where's Nicky?” I asked as I entered the kitchen.

“I put him to bed. He was exhausted. Long day for you, sweets. You're being careful?”

“Yeah,” I said, kissing him on the cheek. “I actually only saw a couple of patients this morning. I had to go to Boston and see Dr. Davis.”

Matt stopped stirring the gravy. He stared at me and didn't say another word. He looked so hurt that I couldn't stand it.

“I should have told you, Matthew. I didn't want to worry you. I knew you would, and I didn't want you to; I knew you'd want to come to Boston with me.”

It was a nervous, run-on thought, my attempt to explain what I had done. It wasn't right, but it wasn't wrong, either. Matt decided to leave my decision at that.

“Well?” he said. “What did Dr. Davis have to say?”

My mind traced back to Gail Davis's office, back to the edge of the examining table, where I had sat so tenuously, in a blur of emotions: What did she say? What did she say?

“Well, I told her about the baby.”

“Right.”

“And she was . . . she was very concerned. Gail wasn't pleased.”

The next few words locked in my throat, nearly closed off my breathing. I almost couldn't speak. Tears flooded to my eyes, and I started to shake.

“She said it was too risky for me to be pregnant. She said I shouldn't have this baby.”

Matt's eyes filled with tears now, too. He took a breath. Then he spoke, splitting the silence between us.

“Suzanne, I agree with her. I couldn't bear to risk losing you.”

I was crying, sobbing terribly, still shaking badly. “Don't give up on this baby, Matt.”

I looked at him, waiting for some comforting words. But he was too quiet. He finally shook his head slowly. “I'm sorry, Suzanne.”

Suddenly I needed to breathe some fresh air, to escape, to be by myself. I left the house in a spin. I ran through the tall sea grass until I reached the beach. Shaken, winded, fatigued. There was a loud roaring noise in the space between my ears. It wasn't the sound of the ocean.

I lay down in the sand and wept. I felt awful, so inconsolably sad for the baby inside me. I thought about Matt and you waiting for me back at the house. Was I being selfish, headstrong, foolish? I was a doctor. I knew the risks.

This baby was a precious and unexpected gift. I couldn't give it up. I held myself and rocked with that feeling for what seemed like hours. I talked to the little baby growing inside me. Then I looked up at the full moon, and I knew it was time to go back to the house.

Matt was waiting for me in the kitchen. I saw him in the mellow, yellow light as I trudged up from the beach. I started to cry again.

I did a strange thing, then, and I'm not exactly sure why. I knocked on the door, then knelt on the first step. Maybe I was tired and drained from the long, stressful day. Maybe it was something else, something more important, something I still can't explain.

Maybe I was remembering the English king who had knelt in the snow hoping not be excommunicated, to be forgiven by Pope Gregory.

I had been hurting badly out on the beach, but I also knew I had acted selfishly. I shouldn't have run away and left you and Matt alone at the house.

“Forgive me for running off like that,” I said as Matt opened the screen door. “For running away from you. I should have stayed and talked it out.”

“You know better,” he whispered, and gently stroked my hair. “There's nothing to forgive, Suzanne.”

Matt pulled me to my feet and into his arms. A feeling of relief swept through me. I listened to the strong beating of his heart. I let him snuggle the top of my head with his chin. I let his warmth seep into me.

“It's just that I want to keep this baby, Matt. Is that so terrible?”

“No, Suzanne. That isn't terrible. It's losing you that I couldn't bear. If I lost you, I don't think I could live. I love you so much. I love you and Nicky.”

Oh, Nicky,

Life can be unforgiving sometimes. Learn that lesson, sweet boy. I had just gotten home from a couple of hours at the office. Routine really, nothing unusual, nothing stressful. Actually, I was feeling pretty chipper.

I drove back to the cottage to take a catnap before seeing one more patient in the afternoon. You were at Grandma's house for the day. Matt had a job over in East Chop.

I was going to take it easy, catch a nice, healthy, restful snooze. I had an appointment to see Connie in town the next day--about the baby.

I fell onto the bed, feeling dizzy suddenly. My heart began to pound a little. Strange. I felt a headache coming on, out of nowhere.

It was about to rain buckets, and the barometric pressure had dropped. I sometimes get headaches when that happens.

My appointment with Connie was the next day, but I was deliberating over whether I should wait until then. Maybe I would feel better in an hour, or when the rain finally came.

I was so nervous about staying healthy that I was driving myself into neurotic symptoms, for God's sake.

Easy, Suzanne, I told myself. Lie down and close your eyes and tell every part of your body to relax.

Your eyes, your mouth, your chest, your belly, your arms, your legs, your feet, your toes.

Relax them all and slip under the blanket, the Golden Fleece.

All you need is an hour, a break, and when you wake up, it will all feel better.

Just fall asleep, fall asleep now, fall . . .

“Suzanne, what's the matter?”

I turned over on the daybed at the sound of Matt's gentle whisper. I still didn't feel too good. He leaned in closer, and he looked concerned. “Suzanne? Can you talk, sweetheart?”

“Seeing Connie tomorrow,” I finally said. This was strange. It took all my strength just to get those few words out.

“You're seeing Connie right now,” Matt said.

When we arrived at Connie's office, she took one look at me and said, “No offense, but you look less than stellar, Suzanne.”

She took my blood pressure, then blood and urine samples, and finally an EKG. All through the tests, I was in a daze. I felt hollow inside, and more than a little worried.

Following my examination, she sat down with Matt and me. Connie didn't look happy. “Your blood pressure is up, but it will be a day or so before we get your blood work back. I'll put a rush on it. In some ways things are steady, but I don't like how you were feeling today. Or how you look.I'm inches away from admitting you. I agree with Dr. Davis about the abortion. It's your decision, of course, but you're putting yourself at grave risk.”

“God, Connie,” I said, “short of stopping my practice altogether, I'm doing everything else right. I'm being so careful, so good.”

“Then stop working altogether,” she said without missing a beat. “I'm not kidding, Suzanne. I don't like what's going on with you. If you go home and make your number one priority absolute rest, then we have a chance. Otherwise, I'm checking you in.”

I knew Connie meant what she said. She always did. “I'm going home now,” I mumbled. “I can't give up on this baby.”

Dear Nicholas,

I am so sorry, sweetie. A month has passed and you have kept me busy. I am also tired, and I haven't had a chance to write. I'll try to make it up to you.

At eleven months, your favorite words are Dada, Mama, wow, watch, boat, ball, water (wa), car, and your very favorite is LIGHT. You are crazy about lights. You say, “Yight.”

You are like a windup toy these days. You just keep going and going and going and going and going.

I was in the middle of giving you my “be a good boy” rap when the phone rang. It was Connie Cotter's nurse, who put me on hold for the doctor.

It seemed to take forever before Connie got on the line. You came over and wanted to take the phone away from me. “Sure. Why don't you talk to Dr. Cotter,” I said.

“Suzanne?”

“Yeah, I'm here, Connie. Taking it easy at home.”

“Listen . . . we got your most recent bloods back. . . .”

Oh, that awful doctor's pause, that search for just the right wording. I know it only too well.

“And . . . I'm not happy. You're heading into the danger zone. I want to check you in right away. Start you on fluids. I'll show you the results on your bloods when you get here. How soon can that be?”

The words roared through my head with the force of a gale, taking all my strength with it. I was devastated. I had to sit down immediately. With the phone still to my ear, I lowered my head between my legs.

“I don't know, Connie. I'm here with Nicky. Matt's at work.”

“Unacceptable, Suzanne. You could be in trouble, sweetie. I'll call Jean if you won't.”

“No, no. I'll call her. I'll do it right now.”

I hung up, and you held on to my hand like a strong little soldier. You knew just what to do--you must have learned it from your daddy.

I remember tucking you into your crib and pulling the cord on your music box. “Whistle a Happy Tune” begins to play. It's so beautiful--even in my nervous state of mind.

I remember turning on your night-light and closing the curtains.

I remember that I was on my way downstairs to call Grandma Jean, then Matt.

That's all I remember.

Matt found me lying as limp as a rag doll at the bottom of the stairs. I had a deep gash alongside my nose. Had I fallen down the entire flight? He called Grandma Jean and rushed me to the ER.

From there, I was transferred to the Critical Care Unit. I awoke to a whir of frantic activity around my bed. Matt wasn't there anymore.

I cried out for Matt, and both he and Connie were at my side in seconds. “You took a bad fall, Suzanne.” Matt was the first to speak. “You passed out at the house.”

“Is the baby okay? Connie, my baby?”

“We have a heart rate, Suzanne, but the situation isn't good. Your pressure is off the charts, your proteins are skyrocketing and . . . ”

She paused long enough for me to know there was another big and.

“And what?” I asked.

“And you have toxemia. That could be why you passed out at the house.”

I knew what this abnormal condition meant, of course. My blood was poisoning both the baby and me. I had never heard of it occurring this early in a pregnancy, but Connie couldn't be wrong.

I was hearing what Connie was telling me in disjointed sound bites. I wasn't able to form whole sentences in my head. I felt as if I were being lobotomized. I thought I could actually feel the toxic blood swelling up inside me as if I were a dam about to break.

Then I heard Matt being ordered out of the room, and an emergency team rushing in. Doctors and nurses were swarming all around me. I could feel the oxygen mask covering my nose and my mouth.

I knew what was happening to me. In layman's terms:

My kidneys were shutting down.

My blood pressure was dropping.

My liver was barely functioning as guardian against the poisons.

My body was beginning to convulse.

Fluids and medications were given through an IV to stop the convulsions, but then I started hemorrhaging.

I knew I was shutting down. I knew so much more than I wanted to. I was scared. I was floating out of my body and then falling into a dark tunnel. The passing black walls were narrowing and squeezing the breath out of me.

I was dying.