The Empty Jar(36)

This—this moment, this day, this man—assures me that I made the right decision in waiting to tell him. It didn’t hurt anything, but had things gone a different way, it would’ve saved him enormous heartache. I suspected it all along, but I can see now that I was right. And I’m glad. The last thing I want to do is bring him anything except happiness.

The sun has long since set by the time we plop down onto the couch to enjoy the flickering lights of our handiwork.

“Go stand in front of the tree for a sec,” Nate suggests, taking my phone from the table beside him.

Without question, I do as he asks. He turns on the camera and aims it at me, triggering the record button when he’s happy with his view. “Welcome to your first Christmas, Grant spawn,” he begins happily. He’s speaking to our child, but he’s watching me on the screen. I can see his eyes. I can feel them, too. On me. Always one me. “This is your dad. It’s Christmas day, and you’re still a polka dot in your mom’s belly.” He smiles when I raise my hands to lovingly stroke my stomach. “I wanted you to see how beautiful she is, how beautiful life is with her. See how the lights sparkle a little brighter, how the tree stands up a little taller when she’s around? That’s all because of your mother. She makes everything around her better, and I hope you get all the very best parts of her. I love her. And we both love you. Merry Christmas.”

Nate looks beyond the screen to the real me, not just my image. He meets my eyes and brings a smile to play around the edges of my mouth. He nods to me, indicating it’s my turn to speak to the baby.

I clear my throat and smile wider.

“Hello, my gorgeous baby. I’d give anything to be able to hold you right now, to sit with you under the Christmas tree. Enjoy the lights and the fire. With your father by my side. But having you at all is the best Christmas gift I could ever ask for. I want you to know that you’ve made this year, this very hard year, the best of my life. You’ve made all this worth it. Kiss your daddy every day for me. And he will kiss you for me. I love you. I love you both. So much. Merry Christmas.”

********

Nate



I tap the red button to stop the recording. As I lower the phone, I wonder if I’ll ever be able to watch these films without feeling like the biggest part of me is missing.

And never coming back.





Thirteen

I’d Die for You

Lena



Despite the jovial holiday celebration Nate and I enjoyed, I’m uneasy. I know my husband well enough to know that he feels the same way. Beneath all the laughs and cute videos and tender moments, he’s nervous. I can tell. I don’t think either of us will feel comfortable about the pregnancy until I see Dr. Taffer again.

And today is that day.

Although I told Nate every word spoken between Dr. Stephens and me, he wants to go to my appointments with me. And I completely understand. I wouldn’t have seen my obstetrician by myself had I not been trying to protect Nate until I had some answers. Now, there’s no way in the world I would exclude him, good news or bad. We are one hundred percent in this together.

On the drive to the oncologist’s office, the car is filled with anxiety, and neither Nate nor I say much.

From a professional standpoint, I have a boatload of questions to ask, but from a personal standpoint, only one of them really matters. It’s the same question I know Nate wants answered as well.

It’s the one filling the car with the thickest of tension.

Can I carry this baby?

That’s the million dollar question, one only God Himself knows the answer to, but I’m willing to put enough faith in my doctors to at least ease my mind about it.

Dr. Stephens will be consulting Dr. Taffer, my oncologist, about me so they can manage the pregnancy together. I know, however, that considering the holidays and the short time period, it’s highly unlikely they’ve exchanged calls, notes, or test results yet. If they had, I’d know. I would’ve gotten a call from Dr. Taffer. But since I haven’t, I can only assume my visit today will be the first she’s hearing about it.

Her expertise will be extremely important. Only my oncologist will know how the cancer will affect my body, which in turn will affect the baby. That is what I’m most concerned about. That is what I want her to tell me today—that this is manageable. That my baby can survive.

Nate takes my hand as we sit, side by side, in the chairs inside the small examination room at the cancer center. His grip is tight, tighter than usual. I know without a doubt that he isn’t even aware of it. It’s merely an outward sign of how frightened he is, how out of control he feels. I know that to be true because I feel exactly the same way.

Rallying the best that I can, I muster a stiff smile for Dr. Taffer when she walks in.

“So, how was Europe? How are you feeling?” the doctor asks right off the bat, patting the paper-covered examination table, a silent invitation for me to hop up there.

I remain seated. I know there is going to be a lot of discussion before an actual examination takes place, and I don’t waste any time getting right to the point “Europe was amazing. I was sick for a few weeks right in the middle, but it wasn’t related to the cancer.”

Lheanne Taffer’s brow pleats for only a moment before it smooths out and she rolls on her stool to be closer to me. “No? What was it, the food?”