The Battered Heiress Blues - By Laurie Van Dermark Page 0,58
the male bashing. Let’s focus on getting you to the hospital quickly.”
“Sirens?”
“You bet.”
We made our way downstairs and told Ms. Martin what had happened. She hugged me tightly and reminded me not to borrow trouble. Who was she kidding? Trouble always found me. I tried to keep a positive outlook for the baby’s sake and was comforted that I wasn’t hurting and the bleeding had stopped. Somehow, I figured pain would come with a miscarriage. I would be starting my third trimester soon and anyway, I felt fine.
Gabe pulled up to the emergency department and insisted on getting a wheelchair which I dismissed as ridiculous. When he disappeared into the hospital, I simply got out of the vehicle and started walking on my own. I managed to clear the sliding doors before he rolled up with the chair. His look said it all. I think he’d grown accustom to my stubborn nature. He pointed to the chair and insisted that I comply with his request. I shot him my best annoyed smile and conceded to his wishes. The nurse triaged me and took me back straight away. Gabe asked if I wanted him to remain in the waiting room, but I didn’t want to go through everything alone so he willingly accompanied me.
We waited for Dr. Brandon who arrived shortly after us. He reiterated that I shouldn’t panic and asked whether I wanted Gabe to stay for the ultrasound. I grabbed Gabe’s hand and told him to proceed with the scan. The baby’s heart was strong. We smiled at each other as the thumping sound filled the room.
“Your baby girl looks strong,” said Dr. Brandon.
“A girl,” I said delighted, squeezing Gabe’s hand tighter.
“Sorry. I forgot that you wanted it to be a surprise. It’s the late hour,” he offered apologetically.
“Why am I bleeding then?”
Dr. Brandon pushed the machine away as the nurse cleaned the gel off my abdomen. He looked serious. He looked like a killjoy- the deliverer of bad news. I wouldn’t allow my fears to trespass on this happiness. My baby girl was alive and well.
“We need to talk about something. A complication has developed.”
“What are you saying? You said she was strong. That’s why my appointments have been less often.”
“She is. I’m worried about you.”
“What does that mean?” Gabe said as he sat on the bed next to me, putting his arm around my back.
“You’ve developed a complete placenta previa. Typically, we wait to diagnose a previa, hoping that the placenta will continue to migrate up towards the fundus of the uterus, with the progression of the pregnancy, but that hasn’t happened in your case.”
“English, please.”
“Your placenta is completely covering the cervix.”
“That’s bad, then?” Gabe inquired.
“Having a vaginal delivery would be life threatening. You’ll need a C-section.”
“What did I do wrong?”
“Nothing, Julia. Your previous uterine surgery made you more susceptible to a situation like this. Your bleeding was the best possible thing that could have happened- it revealed the previa. If you went into labor on your own, the outcome would be poor. We know what we’re up against now.”
“What do I do?”
“The best case scenario would be to get you to thirty-eight weeks, but I’d be thrilled with thirty-six. We’ll be doing more ultrasounds. I’m concerned about intrauterine growth retardation which is just a fancy term for the baby’s growth lagging behind. The tech will do a biophysical profile each time you come for a scan. As far as you’re concerned, you’ll be on strict bed rest for now. That means that you can do limited walking to the bathroom and around the house, but no more. I’d like you to limit the time that you’re out of bed. As long as the baby is doing well, I won’t order complete bed rest at the hospital.”
“You might as well order complete bed rest, doc.” Gabe knew me too well.
“Very funny,” I shot back.
“I’m serious Julia. You have to do your part. Keep your stress level low. Take your blood pressure every day. As we get closer, I’ll use steroids to help mature her lungs. You’ll require a planned C-section and perhaps a transfusion.”
“And? There’s more. I can tell by your facial expressions that gloom and doom is on its way.”
“And… I must also tell you that a hysterectomy is a distinct possibility, given the complexity of your current situation and past uterine surgery. I won’t know until I open you up and see where we’re at. I just want you to be prepared.”