Warrior (First to Fight #1)(16)
I try to discern the abnormality they’re looking for, but every body part looks perfect to me. As the doctor shifts the wand I see two arms, two legs. The outlines of fingers and the shape of the baby’s head. It’s so beautiful and perfect that it makes me want to cry.
Then the doctor pauses and says, “There seems to be an abnormality in the development of your baby’s heart. I want to order a fetal echocardiogram, just to be sure.”
My own heart skips a beat. “Abnormality? What’s wrong?”
“I can’t say for certain without more tests to confirm, but I’m concerned about the size the left side of your baby’s heart. At this stage it would be larger than it is which leads me to believe he may have hypoplastic left heart syndrome, which simply means the left side of the heart is underdeveloped. It’s a serious condition so I’m going to have you schedule an echocardiogram before you leave. We have an excellent cardiology and neonatal unit here at the hospital.”
I can barely speak but I force the words out. “Is—is it fatal? Is my baby going to die?”
“With early detection and care, there is a good chance of survival. If the echo confirms HLHS, he’ll need several surgeries after birth to redirect the blood flow of the heart. I don’t want you to worry about this until we do the echo and confirm. In the interim, I recommend that you take good care of yourself. Make sure you get enough rest and stay healthy. I know this isn’t easy news to face, but you are in excellent care.”
After a few more words and recommendations from the doctor, Jack and I are left alone. I immediately crumple into a heap of tears on the exam room table.
This is supposed to be one of the happiest moments of my life and it’s probably horrible that I spend it mourning the baby I am still carrying. As tears wet the shoulder of Jack’s shirt, I cry for the healthy, happy baby I’d dreamt of for the past four months. I wish for a magical clock to turn back time to the night I told my dad I was pregnant and that joy that I felt when he was so excited to learn he was going to be a grandpa.
Jack holds me through it all. He hears the deepest, darkest of my fears and allays them with quiet murmurs and a strong hand rubbing my back. He exchanges dark words with a nurse who asks when we’re going to leave the room for the next appointment.
I don’t know how much time passes before I’m able to staunch the flow of grief. By the end of it, my eyes feel swollen shut and my nose won’t stop running. Jack offers a handful of tissues and I take them gratefully.
“You know I love you, right?” Jack says, his hand cupping my raw face. “No matter what happens, we’re here for you. We’re a team.”
I sniffle into the tissues. “I love you, too, Jack. I’m so glad you came.”
He grins, but I can see the redness in his eyes, the evidence of his own tears. “Of course you are.”
The nurse knocks impatiently on the door and I turn to look. “We better get out of here before they call the cops or something,” I tell him.
“Take all the time you need, Liv. I’ll take care of them if I need to.”
“No, it’s okay. I need to go tell Dad. Do you think you can call and have him meet us at my house?”
He kisses my brow. “Anything for you, sis.” He turns to head out while I collect my things and to wipe the gel from my stomach, but he stops by the door, turns and says with a grin, “You notice that the doctor said ‘he,’ right? You’re having a baby boy.”
So like Jack to play games and make jokes, even during a serious moment, and then wiping away all the pain by reminding me of the joyous parts.
“When is the next whatchamacallit?” Dad says a few hours later.
“Echocardiogram,” I supply, having researched the hell out of it when I got home. “And it’s in three weeks. Apparently Child’s has a neonatal unit and one of the best cardiology departments in the state. From what I understand, they’ll use the echo to get a better look at the heart and see what we’re dealing with.”
Dad palms my head and face plants me in his chest. “Whatever the results, you know Jack-boy and I will take care of you.”
“I know,” I say, my voice thick with emotion.
“I’m sorry, baby girl.”
“Me, too.”
“What happens after the echo?” he asks.
I sit up and wipe my puffy face with the back of my hand. “There’s nothing really they can do until the baby is born. Most of the fetal procedures right now are experimental and I don’t like the thought of them doing an experimental surgery. After he’s born there will be a series of surgeries to redirect the blood-flow from the smaller left section of his heart to his lungs.”
“He’s a Walker,” Dad says. “He’s a fighter. He’ll make it through all the damn surgeries.”
“That reminds me…” Jack plops down on the chair across from where Dad and I are sitting on the couch. He has a beer in hand and a bowl full of chips and dip in the other. “Since you found out it’s going to be a boy, have you thought of any names. Personally I think Jack’s a winner, but that’s just me.”
“Over my dead body,” Dad retorts. “She promised your mother when she was fifteen that she would name any son she had after me. Henry Arthur Walker. He’ll be the best looking kid in the state of Florida. I guarantee it.”