Grip Trilogy Box Set - Kennedy Ryan Page 0,322

into un-mendable pieces.

“Ance-what?” Grip’s eyes don’t leave Dr. Wagner’s face, but his hand bridges the small space between us until our fingers twist into a knot of solidarity. “What is that? How do we fix it?”

“An-en-sef-uh-lee,” Dr. Wagner sounds out slowly. Her face still wears that impassive mask, but her hands clutch the brochure like she’s steeling herself to say what needs to be said. “And you don’t . . . well, you don’t fix it. Anencephaly is a terminal diagnosis. I’m so sorry.”

The word “terminal” multiplies, flying around my brain over and over until my mind is a hive of bees swarming, stinging. I struggle to pluck one lucid thought from the buzzing in my head.

“But . . . but how can you know?” My voice emerges from its hiding place high and thin. “You just look at the screen and hand down a terminal diagnosis? That can’t be right. There have to be tests or—”

“Yes, we’ll run an amniocentesis as a . . .” Discomfort crinkles Dr. Wagner’s face. “As a formality, but I’m certain, Bristol. It’s apparent even in the ultrasound.”

I can’t even cry. My arms clasp my little belly protectively and my hands shake. My extremities have frozen like I’m in shock. How could I not be in shock when she just ripped the rug, the floor—the earth from under my feet? I don’t have a leg to stand on.

“What exactly is this condition?” Grip’s voice doesn’t sound like it belongs to him. He has one of those voices, so warm it draws you in, but right now, there’s distance, distance and desperation. “You said it’s terminal, but we don’t know anything about it yet.”

“Yes, of course.” Dr. Wagner allows sympathy into her eyes.

“Anencephaly is a serious birth defect in which a baby is born without parts of the brain and skull. Normally, as the neural tube forms and closes, it helps form the baby’s brain, skull, spinal cord, and backbone. Anencephaly occurs if the upper part of the neural tube does not close all the way, thus leaving parts of the brain permanently unformed.”

The compassion deepens in Dr. Wagner eyes and she licks her lips, presses them together before continuing.

“This often results in a fetus being born without the front part of the brain, the forebrain, and the thinking and coordinating part of the brain, the cerebrum. The remaining parts of the brain are often not covered by bone or skin.”

“Not covered by skin and bone?” The words forcibly eject from my mouth. “What does that mean?”

“It’s why we can tell from the ultrasound that the fetus has anencephaly. Let me show you,” Dr. Wagner says, turning the screen around for us to see. “Here, we can see that the top of the head and the brain are . . . missing, and there is only a thin membrane covering that portion, no skull or scalp.”

A moan slices into her explanation, and I’m startled to realize it came from me. I cover my mouth, but I can’t cover my heart. I can’t silence the scream ricocheting in the chambers of my soul. It’s piercing. It’s painful.

“Many are stillborn.” Dr. Wagner presses on despite flicking a concerned look my way. “Those who are delivered as live births will live minutes or hours, in rare cases, a few days.”

“No,” I mutter under my breath. “This can’t be right. A test—there has to be a test, a second opinion.”

“Yeah,” Grip pipes in. “A real test, not just a blurry picture telling us our baby might have this condition.”

“Like I said, we’ll perform the amniocentesis, certainly,” Dr.

Wagner agrees.

Her pause drops heavily into the waiting quiet.

“I know this is a lot to take in,” Dr. Wagner says. “But we’ll need to discuss your options.”

“We have options?” I ask, a harsh laugh cutting the inside of my jaw.

“Yes, options.” Dr. Wagner looks from Grip to me and back again. “Decisions.”

The word “decisions” sends a chill up my spine. Oh, God, no. She can’t seriously be asking me to do that.

“More than ninety percent of parents with this diagnosis terminate the pregnancy,” Dr. Wagner says quietly. “I know that’s hard to process, but the fetus—”

“Stop saying fetus,” Grip snaps. “It’s our baby. Call it our baby.”

Dr. Wagner nods, meeting the frustration and naked pain in Grip’s eyes head on.

“I understand,” she says, her tone simultaneously soft and firm. “But you will have to deal with these decisions sooner rather than later. We are . . . well, certain options are time-sensitive.”

My fingers