The Color of Joy (11 page)

“Do you mean the fact that I’m having a baby?”

Sylvie looked away. “Yeah. It kind of rubs salt in the wound—you know what I mean?” She took a moment to gather her thoughts. “I still want to be a mom, but I’m not sure that’s ever going to happen. I still feel like I’m being punished or something, that I deserve this.”

I nodded in understanding.

“I’m sorry if I’m not being supportive enough,” Sylvie added, “but I’m doing my best.”

“You’re doing
great
,” I replied in my usual manner of always making an effort to build up her self-confidence. “And maybe what we argued about yesterday wasn’t your fault. Mom also told me you were trying out some medications. Is it possible they might have some strange side effects that cause unusual behavior or blackouts?”

She darted an accusing glance my way. “You’re suggesting that I smashed your honeymoon photo and don’t remember doing it?”

“It’s possible. Maybe you should ask your doctor.”

She raised her smoothie and sipped through the straw. “Fine, whatever. I’ll ask,” she replied bitterly. “But I don’t want to have this conversation again, all right? Let’s just move on.”

Regarding my sister in the harsh noonday light, I wished there was a way I could take away her pain, somehow reverse time to when she was sixteen and convince her to keep her baby—or at the very least put it up for adoption.

“Okay,” I said, not wanting to torment her any further.

We both looked up when a small boy screamed in pain after landing on his face in the sand at the base of the slide.

“Did you see that?” Sylvie said. “He went down head first.”

“Poor little guy.” I noticed a woman on another bench run to help him. “That must be his mom.”

The woman picked him up, propped him on his feet, wiped the dirt off his face and hugged him. He continued to wail, regardless.

“I think he’s okay,” Sylvie said, rising to collect my garbage from lunch. She carried everything to the trash can on the other side of the play structure while I sat and watched the mother tend to her son.

A moment later I found myself rising to walk over to the baby carriage she had left behind at the bench. I peered inside at a tiny infant dressed in pink, sleeping soundly.

“Aren’t you beautiful,” I cooed, reaching down to touch her soft cheek with the tip of my finger. She stirred and let out an uncomfortable gurgle, then squirmed and grunted. “Do you have a sore tummy?” I asked. The next thing I knew, I was reaching in to pick her up and lift her over my shoulder. I bounced at the knees and patted her on the back as I started walking back to the bench. “Sounds like you need to burp, that’s all.”

Suddenly, a woman shouted from the play structure. “
Hey! Hey!
”

I was shocked when the mother of the little boy who had fallen off the slide grabbed hold of my arm and glared at me with venom. She tried to snatch the baby from my arms. “Let go of her!”

“Be careful!” I cautioned as I maneuvered to hand the child over.

“Are you crazy?” the woman asked with wild eyes. The baby was now screaming and her son was crying, gripping at her jeans.

Sylvie came running. “What’s going on?”

Without a word, the mother turned and stalked off with her two children, pushing the carriage bumpily over the grass.

“Did you pick up her kid?” Sylvie asked in horror.

“She seemed uncomfortable,” I replied. “Like she had a gas bubble or something.”

Sylvie frowned and scolded me harshly. “You can’t just pick up people’s babies in playgrounds.
What’s wrong with you
?”

“I was only trying to help,” I argued.

Sylvie shook her head at me. “Whatever. I have to get back to school. See you at home.” She, too, stalked off, leaving me standing alone.

“I was just trying to help,” I said to no one but myself as I headed back to work.

November 8

“I thought it would be Sylvie sitting beside me for this,” I said to my mother. “Thanks for coming with me.” We sat down in the waiting room in the obstetrics unit. I’d just reached the twenty-week mark and had come in for a scheduled ultrasound. “I really wanted her to be a part of this. I thought it might help her work through her feelings, but here we are.”

“You two still aren’t talking?” Mom asked.

“Oh, we talk,” I replied as I leaned forward to pick up a magazine. “About the weather and how her day went at school. She asks me if I need anything at the grocery store when she goes, and I offer to throw some of her laundry in the machine with mine when I’m doing a load, but as a whole, it’s pretty icy in the house, if you know what I mean.”

Mom touched my shoulder. “You’ve always been very forgiving with her, Jenn, but she crossed the line when she broke your honeymoon picture, didn’t she? No wonder she won’t admit to it, not even to me.”

“We’ll get over it,” I said, waving a hand. “I’m not going to keep banging on that door. She’s in therapy so that’s all I could ask for.”

The nurse appeared with a clipboard and called my name. Mom stood up with me.

“You have the video camera?” I asked over my shoulder as I followed the nurse to the examination room.

“I do. Right here in my purse. You’ll be able to show it to Jake tonight.”

*

“I hope you don’t mind if my mom films this,” I said to the nurse as I raised my feet into the exam table. “My husband’s out on some kind of mission right now, otherwise I’d have him on a live video feed.”

“We’ve done live feeds many times,” the nurse cheerfully replied, smiling up at the camera my mother held. “Sometimes couples just can’t get their schedules to match up.”

“You don’t have to record anything yet, Mom,” I whispered to her. “Wait until the doctor comes.”

“Oh. Sure.” She fumbled with the device and lowered it to her lap.

Just then, Dr. Matthis entered the room and set my chart on the counter. “Hi, Jenn,” she said.

“Hi, Dr. Matthis. This is my mother, Patty.”

They shook hands. “Nice of you to come.” She gave me a playful look. “A little bird tells me you want to know the gender today.”

With my hands folded protectively over my belly, which still seemed very flat to me, I turned my head to the side to watch Dr. Matthis take a seat on the rolling stool. “Yes, we definitely want to know. Mom, you can start filming now.”

My mother raised the camera again while I did my best to ignore it. I didn’t want to come across as awkward or self-conscious.

Meanwhile Dr. Matthis picked up the gel bottle and squirted it noisily onto my belly. “How’s the morning sickness been lately?” she asked in a more serious tone.

“Much better,” I replied. “I haven’t thrown up since… I’m not sure. It’s probably been awhile.”

“That’s good news. No doubt you have some calories you need to catch up on.”

“For sure. It was pretty bad in the beginning, but my appetite’s finally come back.”

“And you’re still working full time?” she asked as she slid the probe in a small circle just below my navel.

“Yes.”

“Great.” She seemed distracted as she watched the screen, then turned the volume up on the fetal monitor to listen for the heartbeat. Static filled the room.

“How have you been feeling otherwise?” she asked, leaning away from me to press another button on the machine.

“Really good,” I replied.

She continued to move the probe around while I watched the video screen with bated breath. Turning to look into the camera, I whispered to Jake, as if in private: “I can’t believe we’re going to know if it’s a boy or a girl today. It’s crazy, isn’t it?”

I slid my gaze back to the screen and waited for the doctor to settle on the image. Since we’d done this before, at ten weeks, I had a pretty good idea what we were looking for.

Static from the monitor continued. The doctor moved the probe further to the left and right.

Time slowed to a surreal pace. Why was this taking so long? My heart began to pound.

Eventually, Dr. Matthis leaned forward and shut off the machine. She turned to face me, pulled a tissue from the dispenser and wiped the gel off my stomach. “Are you sure you’ve been feeling all right since I saw you last?”

“Yes.”

“Have you noticed any spotting?”

“No,” I replied with obvious concern in my voice.

Dr. Matthis wet her lips and stared at me uneasily for a few seconds. “I don’t know how to tell you this, Jenn.” She covered my hand with hers. “I’m afraid you’ve lost the baby.”

Suddenly I was panting as if I’d just run an uphill marathon. I shot a quick gaze at my mother and spoke curtly. “Turn the camera off.”

She immediately lowered it and fumbled to find the stop button.

“That can’t be true,” I said to the doctor. “I’ve been sick in the mornings, but otherwise, I’ve been fine. I would have noticed if there was bleeding. There wasn’t.”

“Are you sure?” she asked. “There would have been significant cramping as well.”

I shook my head. “No, nothing. Can you try again? With another machine? Maybe this one’s broken.”

Dr. Matthis regarded me with sympathy, then instructed the nurse to bring in another ultrasound machine.

A moment later, we were repeating the same procedure with a smaller, portable unit. I kept waiting for the beautiful, rapid whirly thrum of the baby’s heartbeat, but heard only a steady stream of static. The doctor searched and searched, moving the probe over my belly until I began to weep quietly.

“I don’t understand,” I said, pressing my palm to my forehead. “I thought we were fine.”

The doctor shut everything off again. “I’m so sorry, Jenn.”

The walls seemed to close in all around me. I felt like I was losing my breath. My mother moved to hold me in her arms while I struggled to grasp the heart-crushing fact that I’d lost the baby I’d wanted so desperately. The baby I’d loved and dreamed about.

Heaven help me. How would I ever tell Jake?

That night, while I lay in bed in total darkness and silence, hugging a pillow and staring at the wall, my mother baked cookies in my kitchen. It was a generous but regrettably hopeless attempt to offer comfort because I was convinced that nothing could ever pull me out of this funk.

I still didn’t understand how any of this could have happened. That very morning, barely eight hours earlier, I’d been sitting at the kitchen table with my hand on my belly, waiting eagerly to feel the baby kick for the first time, which I’d expected to happen any day.

A gentle knock sounded at my door. My body seemed made of lead. Somehow I managed to roll onto my back. “Come in.”

The door opened and light spilled across the floor. I squinted as my pupils adjusted.

“Hey,” Sylvie said. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I’ve been hit by a truck. And I have a pain in my head. Right here.” I pointed at my forehead.

She nodded with understanding. “Mind if I come in?”

“As long as you promise not to turn on the light,” I replied. “I don’t want to look at the world. It hurts.”

Sylvie entered but left the door open a crack. Sitting down on the edge of my bed, she stroked my hair away from my face. “I’m sorry, Jenn. I know there’s nothing anyone can say to make it better. I just want you to know that I understand and I’m here for you, whatever you need.”

“Thank you.” I swallowed over a painful lump in my throat that rose up out of nowhere.

“I don’t know what to do,” I confessed. “I feel so lost. It’s like somebody just ripped my heart out and stole my whole life, my future, right out from under me.”

Sylvie shifted slightly. “Would you like me to tell Jake for you? If you’re not feeling up to it?”

“Tell him what?” I asked, glancing at my alarm clock. “We usually chat at midnight.” That was two hours from now. I sat up against the headboard, ran my fingers through my hair and took a deep breath. “I feel gross. I can’t let him see me like this. I should take a shower.”

“You look fine,” she assured me while staring at me intently. “And no one expects you to be a hundred percent right now. Not after what you’ve been through.”

Wringing my hands together on my lap, I said, “What I’ve been through…? That’s right. Oh God.”

The baby
… I inched down on the bed and covered my face with my hands.

“How am I going to tell him? I know what he’ll say. He’ll say, ‘See? I told you this would happen.’ And I don’t want him to think he has to carry me emotionally. He went through that before with his first wife. She couldn’t get over losing their baby. She got really depressed and blamed him, and I don’t want to be pathetic like that. You’re pathetic like that, too.” I stopped myself. “Oh, God, did I just say that? That was so insensitive.”

What was wrong with me?

My sister looked down at her hands. “Yeah.”

Neither of us said anything for a moment or two. Then Sylvie’s eyes lifted. “Depression’s not something you can control, you know. Sometimes it’s a chemical imbalance or it’s hormonal. It can happen to anyone at any time. Even to you, Jenn.”