Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 71348 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71348 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
Bodie and I exchange guilty looks.
“Let’s do another vaginal ultrasound just to check the heartbeat. As long as that looks good, there’s really nothing to do.”
“Bed rest?” Bodie asks. I nod my head up and down enthusiastically over this suggestion. I’ll sit on my ass in a bed for the next five months if I have to.
Dr. Anchors chuckles. “Most likely not. Let’s see what the ultrasound shows, and then we’ll make a plan.”
♦
Bodie and I walk out of Dr. Anchors’ office, our hands clasped tightly together. I’m not sure at what point we joined them together, but it feels natural and necessary. We walk silently to his truck.
My heart rate has come down somewhat, and while I don’t have the panic of impending grief bubbling inside of me, I’m still not quite assured.
Even though Dr. Anchors did his best to make us feel better. The baby’s heartbeat is strong. There are many benign things that could cause spotting. Like he said… polyps, sex, the ultrasound wand. He told us that spotting of that amount was really not something to be worried about, but that I should take it easy for a few days and keep watch. He told me to return or go to the emergency room if I started cramping or bleeding heavily.
He gave me a pointed look when he described what he meant by heavy bleeding, because he knows I know exactly what that means since I’ve miscarried before.
“You okay?” Bodie asks as we reach the passenger side of his truck.
“Not really,” I reply glumly. “That scared the shit out of me.”
“Me too,” he admits and for the first time, he allows me to see how this affected him. Prior to this moment, he was a rock. Solid to the core and exhibiting all the strength that would be needed for the worst news we could potentially get.
Bodie releases my hand to open the door, but I don’t turn to get in. Instead, I look down at the pavement for a moment before I get up the nerve to look him in the eye. “Can I… um… think I can stay with you for a few days or you stay at my house? Just in case… you know… something happens?”
“Fuck yes,” Bodie says on an expelled breath of relief that I’d ask such a thing. “Of course. I’m not going to leave you alone. Would you prefer to stay at my house or yours?”
“Mine if that’s okay with you?” My voice is whisper soft. Fatigued even.
“Then that’s what we’ll do,” he says as he takes my elbow to help me in the truck.
We go back to Bodie’s house, and it takes him all of ten minutes to pack up a bag that will get him through the next few days. He’s set to go on a security detail on Monday, but that’s five days away. We agreed if all was fine with me, he’d go.
At my house, Bodie asks me if I’m hungry and surprisingly, I am. He takes charge of my kitchen and makes us breakfast. It’s just a simple scrambled eggs and bacon meal, but I find myself so thoroughly drained from the stress of this morning that I do nothing more than sit at my kitchen island and watch him work.
While we eat, I take stock of the last few hours. I pay particular attention to the range of emotions that totally played havoc on me, and I realize something very, very important.
The depth of fear I felt today is the clearest of indications that I am attached to this baby. That knowledge is troubling, because it means my decisions have to be reevaluated. When I told Bodie I’d carry the baby and then he could raise it, it was because I hadn’t felt much in the way of a bond. But that’s certainly not the case now. I’m not even sure when it happened, or if it’s just been building, but I knew I was in for a big spiral downward if I lost the baby today.
“What’s wrong?” Bodie asks softly, and I look up at him. When I do, I feel a tear run down my cheek and realize I’m crying.
I drop my fork, and it clatters on the table. Pressing my face into my hands, I take a shuddering breath. I can hear Bodie’s chair scrape along the floor, and then he’s squatting by me.
When he gently pulls my hands away, I’m forced to look at his warm brown eyes filled with abject worry.
“What’s wrong?” he repeats again.
I dash my tears away and suck in air through my nose. When I let it out, I bring Bodie into my circle of trust. “I’ve been pregnant before. And I miscarried. It was thirteen years ago.”
“Oh, Rachel,” Bodie breathes out with so much sorrow I can barely stand it. He takes my hands in his, and gives me a gentle squeeze. “I’m so sorry.”